#and went “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck” the entire time

[lazarusrisingx]

they tried to call CPS on my mother while i was doing online school, labeled me a HABITUAL TRUANT, and tried to stop me from graduating because my dumbass teacher would mark me down as missing even after i explained IN DETAIL that i had appointments with an oncologist,hematologist,paulminologist,endocrinologist,psychiatrist,therapist,physical therapist, monthly transfusion appointments, COVID FOR 2 WEEKS THAT LANDED ME IN THE HOSPITAL FOR SEVEN DAYS FOR SUPPLEMENTAL OXYGEN AND PLASMA TRANSFUSIONS AND TO MONITOR ME FOR AGGRESSIVE SYMPTOMS.

take a breath cause it gets worse

he then told my mother that he was never informed of my lengthy medical history nor my IEPs,

take a breath cause theres more

despite missing 3 days of school a week i was an entire quarters worth of work ahead of everyone and was on track to graduate early at the top of my class. (i do not recommend doing what i did i would take my adhd meds lock myself in my room for 16 hours and pump out assignments to the point my mom had to come into my room take my laptop and make me eat or physically stop me from working)

take one more breath for me now

he then said that because they had no medical documentation my mother would have to attend parenting classes and i would have to go to the school in person in the middle of covid (i am extremely immunocompromised like i said before i was in the hospital from covid for seven days) to attend classes about being school on time.

now what did my mom do?

oh shes petty as FUCK!! she went into my chart and printed out every test, every doctors note, every after visit summary, every diagnosis form, every chart, EVERYTHING.

took that to the school it was two stacks of papers and handed it to the teacher herself and let them know neither me nor her would be attending any classes whatsoever.

my mom never played when it came to teachers and their bullshit with me. i have so many stories of schools trying to pull shit on me and my mother because i didnt ‘look’ sick (teachers would beg my mom to come pick me up from school because of how bad my coughing and breathing was but refused to listen when i told them i couldnt do specific shit)

[imsofreakingtired]

I am so so so so sorry if this is too close to nsfw (in my head it's very fluff/comfort but I apologise if it makes you uncomfortable bc I'm not sure), but thinking about Sevika w/ a partner who's been pressured by their ex's into doing things like sexually and her just reassuring them that like no baby I wanna hold you what r you talking ab I've been here all of 15 seconds I'm not tryna fuck calm down

And her partner who is so so surprised wdym ??? You just wanna spoon me isn't this the part where you grope my chest and Sevika is like BABY NO

I don't know I'm using her to cope this is so self indulgent I just wanna hear your thoughts on it

i love this idea, thank you for the request anon...and shitt this one was so personally relatable to me 😔

things i wanna say to you

content warning(s): mentions of trauma from past relationships, angst, hurt/comfort

"there's things i wanna say to you, but i'll just let you live like if you hold me without hurting me you'll be the first who ever did."

~~~

“Your beauty…it’s a blessing.”

It’s a sentence that returns and returns to you. It’s a truth you hold in your hands, or wear on your shoulders like a mantle you can’t take off. You have heard it, in one form or another, from the lips of lover to lover. They whispered it to you in the heat of sex, like a special confession only for you, and then vanished like a vapor. 

Your body is like a hotel, you think—a pretty room that people pass through and love only in the moment. When was the last time you were held without the other person’s hands hungrily seeking your breasts? When was the last time you were kissed without their hands roaming your body like an impatient, starved animal? 

Once, you had worked up the courage to confront them. You told them, “hands off.” You don’t exactly remember how the conversation went. But you know that it ended in them laughing in your face, suggesting you work at Babette’s if you wanted compensation for your body. 

When they were gone, you stood in the silent room and wondered if they were right. You wondered if it was your fault. If your body was the only good thing, the only worthy thing about you. If you were nothing more than a pretty face and a blank canvas waiting to be ruined. If you were asking too much when you asked for even just a shadow of respect. 

You stopped speaking after that. 

~~~

Shortly after you began to work for Silco as his record scribe, you met his henchwoman, Sevika. Immediately you knew she was different. She didn’t look at you the way others did—in fact, she barely looked at you at all. When she spoke to you she looked down at you over her hooked nose, her handsome, perfect nose, in a way that made you feel both insignificant and the only woman in the entire world. She didn’t give you flattery about your appearance, spoke bluntly when you made mistakes. 

Still you caught her staring at you from time to time when she thought you were too immersed in work to notice. But her face betrayed nothing. Her brows were always drawn together as if everything in the world annoyed her. You assumed she was only scrutinizing the way you worked. You wondered if Silco had ordered her to monitor you, assess your performance. You worked harder as a result, feeling oddly gratified to be watched for a reason other than your appearance. 

So one could imagine your shock when Sevika strode up to your desk one morning and said, “get your coat. Walk with me.” 

From that day on, you were hers. 

~~~

The first night you moved into her apartment had been a hard day at work. You had been at the desk all day without a single break, trying frantically to keep up with the endless flow of Shimmer shipment records and orders. Sevika had been on her feet from dawn to dusk—you hadn’t seen her for two consecutive minutes even though you worked in the same building. 

The night had deepened, the sky outside dusted with faint stars. You were undressing for bed. If you were tired, how exhausted must Sevika be? You paused in front of the mirror before you slipped the nightshirt over your body. Maybe she would want to let off some steam. Maybe she expected it from you. Hesitantly, you put the nightshirt on. You didn’t want to, but you felt like you owed it to her. Like she deserved it.

Sevika came in, her mechanical arm detached and water glistening on her face from a quick wash. She smiled slightly when she saw you waiting on the bed. “There’s my girl. C’mere.”

She sank into the bed you now shared with her, and obediently you crawled over and folded yourself into her embrace. Her right arm curled around you protectively. Her warmth, her strength, the tautness of her muscles against your skin. It was heavenly. 

She sighed into your neck, and it made you shiver slightly. The question tiptoed to the end of your tongue: can we…can we maybe just stay like this? 

But you feared she would say no. You feared she would be mad. And leave you. 

You waited for her to make the next move, to start pulling the shirt over your head, or turn you around so she could grope between your legs. When several seconds passed and she did nothing, you realized that maybe she was waiting for you. 

Reluctantly, you pulled yourself away and began to take off your shirt. 

Sevika sat up, confused. “What are you doing?”

You freeze in your movements. Your shirt falls back down over your chest. “I—you don’t want to…?”

She shook her head, lips curling in a bemused smile. “Baby, relax. I’ve been here fifteen seconds.”

Slowly, you returned to her, and she pulled you close once more. Sevika felt the shudder of relief that went through your body. Though you didn’t see it, her face creased with concern. She had noticed the apprehension in your eyes, nearly bordering on fear. And she made a mental note to herself to find whatever fucker had hurt you and made you so scared. 

~~~

[writeriguess]

i love your works and i have a request

bakugou x reader where the reader is the only one who can calm him down? he is arguing with kiri and she only has to look at him to calm him down and everyone is stunned by it

author's note: Thank you <3

Serenity

It was a normal day at U.A., or at least as normal as it could get with Class 1-A. Training had gone well enough, and everyone was winding down, gathering in the common room after dinner. That peace, however, didn’t last long—because Katsuki Bakugou and Eijiro Kirishima were at each other’s throats.

Again.

“You’re so damn stubborn, Bakugou!” Kirishima snapped, his usual easygoing demeanor nowhere to be found. His sharp teeth bared slightly, frustration clear in the way his brows furrowed. “Why can’t you just let someone help you once in a while?”

“I don’t fucking need help!” Bakugou growled, hands twitching at his sides as small explosions crackled from his palms. His crimson eyes burned with intensity, shoulders tense and jaw clenched. “I’m not some weakling who needs to be babysat, shitty hair!”

It wasn’t unusual for Bakugou to get like this. He had a short fuse, and sometimes, even Kirishima’s patience couldn’t keep up. The rest of the class had learned to steer clear when the blond was in one of his moods, but tonight, something felt different. His explosions were sparking closer to the ground, the air crackling with the raw energy of his anger.

“Dude, we’re your friends!” Kirishima pressed on, his voice rising to match Bakugou’s. “We’re not saying you’re weak, but—”

“I don’t need a damn pep talk!” Bakugou interrupted, his voice nearly a roar now. His fists clenched tightly, explosions bursting erratically at his sides. “I—”

You sighed.

You had been sitting on the couch, watching the argument unfold, but now, you decided it had gone on long enough. Without a word, you stood up and stepped between them, placing yourself directly in front of Bakugou.

And then—

You looked at him.

Not with fear. Not with exasperation. Just looked at him.

His breath hitched. The tension in his shoulders sagged almost instantly, and the crackling explosions from his hands flickered before fizzling out completely. His hands dropped to his sides, fingers flexing as though searching for something to do now that they weren’t radiating anger. His brows knitted together, his lips parted slightly, and a deep exhale left his chest as if he had been holding it in this whole time.

The entire room went silent.

The rest of Class 1-A exchanged glances, stunned beyond words.

Kirishima blinked, taking half a step back. “Uh… what the hell just happened?” he muttered, looking between you and Bakugou like he had just witnessed an act of sorcery.

“Did… did Y/N just calm Bakugou down?” Kaminari whispered, eyes wide.

“No way…” Mina breathed, leaning forward as if she needed to see it closer to believe it. “That’s impossible.”

Yet, it was happening.

Bakugou, who had been one second away from either blowing up the room or storming off in rage, now stood completely still, his face unreadable. His sharp, furious crimson eyes had softened, the tension in his body had drained away, and the only thing that had changed was that you had looked at him.

You tilted your head slightly, your eyes searching his, waiting for him to say something.

His jaw clenched. Then unclenched. Then, in a voice much quieter than before, he muttered, “Tch. Whatever.”

That was as close to an admission of surrender as anyone would ever get from him.

Your lips curled into the smallest of smiles, and that alone made Bakugou avert his gaze with a scowl, rubbing the back of his neck as if embarrassed.

The silence stretched, thick with disbelief.

Sero was the first to break it. “Holy shit,” he said, staring at you with newfound awe. “That was… insane.”

“Right?” Kaminari agreed, his mouth slightly agape. “I’ve literally never seen Bakugou calm down that fast in my life.”

“You might actually have superpowers,” Mina whispered, completely serious.

“Forget heroes,” Kirishima said, blinking at you. “You might be a damn miracle worker.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue. “Shut up,” he grumbled, though there was no bite to his words. His usual anger had dimmed into something else—something quieter. Something softer.

You simply shrugged, turning back to the couch and sitting down again like nothing had happened. “You guys overreact too much,” you said lightly, leaning back into the cushions.

“We overreact?” Mina scoffed. “You just tamed a whole-ass dragon with one look.”

Kirishima shook his head with a small chuckle. “Man, that was wild.” He crossed his arms, his frustration from before already forgotten. “But hey, at least it worked.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugou grumbled, rubbing his temples. He was still looking at you out of the corner of his eye, like he was trying to figure out exactly how you did what you just did.

The others continued murmuring about it, but you just shot Bakugou a small smirk before focusing back on your phone.

And despite himself, despite all the eyes on him, despite how infuriatingly obvious it was that you had some kind of effect on him—Bakugou didn’t look away.

He just sighed, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and sat down next to you, the tension completely gone.

Like it never existed in the first place.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Once when I was little, my mom set up a fire in our fireplace with the pinecones for a cozy winter night in, and then went to go make some calls before she settled in with me for dinner.

I kept coming to find her in the other room like "mommy" and she would say "not now, I'm on the phone sweetie" so I would leave for a while and then try again. This KEPT happening and she was getting annoyed because it's not like I'd never done this before but usually I didn't need to be redirected this often. She sternly tells me the next time "baby, I will come find you when I'm done, but you need to sit tight until then I'm busy." And this time it works so she's like whew thank fuck, what got into the kid today lmao, and goes back to her phone calls.

About 20min later the fire alarm goes off, and she BOOKS it into the living room which is FILLED with smoke because she forgot to open the grate while setting the fireplace, and while nothing is damgerously on fire, the entire front half of the house is filled with pine sap scented smog.

I am politely "sitting tight" on the couch, practically vibrating with anxiety and as soon as mom shows up I'm SO relieved and she's like "WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY???"

And this is the story of how my mother and her partner at the time spent the next four years dutifully attempting to teach me "key words" that I had to use BEFORE other words like "fire", "smoke", and "blood".

They were unsuccessful, but at least I'm calm under pressure ig????

I completely flooded the back of house today and everyone failed to react like a human. The person who noticed tried to alert me by standing directly behind me, pointing at the floor, and going ‘water’. And when I turned and looked, all I could muster was ‘oh thats cool.’ Really calmly.

And then my manager darted for the mop bucket like CAN YOU TWO DO SOMETHJNG PLEASE STOP JUST WATCHING IT

[vampiresbloodx]

I wonder how good your hands feel around my neck.

pairings: Vi x reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings/contains(18+ ONLY): smut, Vi loves her some tits, clubbing, tattoo artist!vi, innocent!reader, porn without plot/plot what plot, top!vi, dirty talk, flirting, daddy vi, fingering

You have the absolute filthiest thoughts that come to mind while getting tattooed. Some you really can’t control, they just appear and you end up fixated on them for hours, before you know it, your session has ended. 

Vi, short for Violet, is the first artist who’s ever tattooed you ever. With her pink hair, to her muscles that are covered in ink. You can’t help but wonder how strong she is, you know she’s talked about how she did boxing one time, she even tried karate, many forms where she gets to fight and use her hands. 

You know she’s good with her hands. 

When you first got your tattoo done by her, you focused on the way her fingers moved the entire time and how the art came alive on your skin, the needle not even bothering you. She was impressed at how long you can stay still. 

You were slightly surprised yourself. You didn’t mind the pain, the pain had slowly turned into pleasure meeting halfway. That’s what made it all worth it. 

You’d work more hours just to save more money so you could see her again, you thought at first you loved her style, how she worked, all that. But then you realised it was more than that. 

Almost you wanted to stop going to her, and you did for a while, focusing on other things in your personal life. Actually trying to hang out with your friends and go outside instead of only going to work and the few shops and stores you went to. It was nice for a while, you did miss her, which felt stupid when she didn’t know you at all. She was just a girl that gave you a few tattoos, some of your best. 

And then you saw her again. 

You went out with a couple of friends on a saturday night, you couldn’t describe the shock you were in when you saw a familiar pink haired girl who was at the same bar as you. Even in a big city, it's strange how you can see the same faces again. 

She was actually here. 

You couldn’t contain how much your heart was racing, you weren’t even paying attention to anything your friend was saying, she grinned when she saw who you were staring at. 

“Hey, is that-” 

“That’s no one,” you interrupted quickly, looking away.

She smiled more. 

“Just go and talk to her, it won’t be as weird since you two already know each other.” 

You shook your head, “that would still be fucking weird and you know it.” 

She shrugged, “maybe a little. But what if I told you she’s coming your way right now?” 

Wait, what? 

Before you could ask any more questions as you thought she was messing with you, it turns out she wasn’t. Just as you turned around to look where Vi was, she was really walking towards you, in your direction, maybe she might just walk past, not even notice you, maybe she saw someone else instead. 

And of course your friend ditched you. 

You heard your name being called. 

It never sounded so much nicer coming from her mouth. 

“Vi? Hey” you tried to act smoothly, as if you didn’t know she was already here. 

“I have to say, you look good, like really good.” 

Did she just?... 

Were you actually dreaming right now? 

“You look great yourself” you decided to say back, it didn’t seem like it would hurt if you flirted back a little. 

She really did though. She wore black ripped jeans, loose tank top that showed a bit of her abs that you couldn’t help but look at shamelessly. God you were obsessed with her. You had an issue. But right now all you could think about was how her hands would feel around your neck as she fucked you silly. 

You didn’t see how much closer she got to stand next to you, until your hands brushed against one another. You couldn’t focus. With the loud music blasting in your ears, the lingering touches. What did she want? 

“Where are your friends?” she asks, her eyes never leaving yours, as you bite down on your bottom lip. 

“She left, of course.” 

“She left a pretty girl like you all by yourself?” she hummed, tilting her head to the side. “Can I keep you company for a lil while? I can make it worth your time.” 

How could you ever deny her? 

You followed her back to her place, you haven’t gone home with someone in a while, you’re happier it was with her than any other stranger. 

She held your hand with a strong grip, leading you the way, making sure you were always with her. The silence between you both wasn't even uncomfortable, you actually enjoyed it. 

It was the thrill of her that was exciting to you, you craved more. 

You laughed with her as her hands roamed your body, touching you wherever she pleases and where you wanted her to be. You let her. And then you found yourself begging for more, it wasn’t long until she had you where she wanted you to be, on top of you as she teased you, slowly taking your clothes off. 

“I hate to take these pretty clothes off, but I think i’d be more happy to see your naked body” she licked her lips, you made a noise as she raised an eyebrow at you. “Someones getting needy.” 

“Please, just touch me” you whimpered.

She spread your thighs apart, keeping one hand a tight grip on them to make sure you don’t move as much. You liked it. The way she stared at you had you squirming. 

“But i'm already touching you?” she teased, and so easily, she slipped a finger inside your wet pussy, moaning at how well you fit her, she wanted to fill you up. 

“God baby, you’re soaking” she groaned, thrusting her finger in and out slowly on purpose, hearing you whine louder, she loved how vocal you got the harder and faster she fucked you. 

Her other hand played with your tits, as she groped you and fondled with them, you were on cloud nine, why didn’t you do this sooner? You both wondered. She really wanted to taste you badly. She wanted to make you cum on her face, make you ride her, hear just how loud you can get. 

She added another finger in and another, stretching you out as she imagined how fucking sexy you’ll look riding her thick strap on, as you cried sweetly. 

“Who knew you were such a slut, behind how innocent you showed yourself to others” she chuckled. She felt herself getting more turned on, getting off on how wet you are for her. “You gonna come for me, baby? Make a mess on my fingers? I want you to come.” 

You let out a sweet release of a beautiful cry, she wanted more. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as your body shook. Still you craved her touch. You didn’t just want it to be over, and she didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. 

“I hope you’re not thinking of leaving me.” 

“No, I need you.” 

“Good girl, now come use me as a seat, would you?.” 

[rosy-hollow]

Toji...underestimates his own strength sometimes.

And you know this - the man has probably broken the furniture in your house far more times than you can count (by accident of course) but it still never failed to amuse you.

The two of you had met while you were on a business trip to Japan - and immediately the two of you hit it off after the burly man had saved you from some random drunk off the streets of Okinawa.

However, you were in Japan for a business trip - and thus once your time there was up, you were forced to move back to America.

It was a strange dynamic the two of you had, not fully long distance because you two always tried to fly in and spend time with each other as much as possible - and as much of a hassle that it was, you made it work.

Eventually, Toji had decided to move in with you in the United States, and to say the very least... it was a major culture shock.

Learning English was one thing (seriously, how many sounds can 'ough' make?!) but American life was a stark contrast to the Japanese way of living that Toji sometimes found it difficult to wrap his mind around.

You made it easier though. He would never admit it- but the only reason he went through all of this was because of you.

It was strange, Toji never thought he'd get so attached to someone that he'd uproot his entire life and move across the world just to be with the one he loved, but you made it worth it.

Your laugh, your smile, your kindness, your witty banter - Toji would move planets if he could just be with you a second longer. You were like a drug - addicting and euphoric. No amount of rehab could get him over you.

But the main thing about America that captivated Toji's interest? (other than you)

Football.

And by football, I mean American football. To Toji's knowledge, football was what the Americans called 'soccer', but here, football was a whole different story.

You had put it on one day, for the hell of it - you weren't entirely into sports that much, but you understood the basics of the game. Toji at first thought it was stupid, why the fuck would he give a shit about big beefy men throwing around a deformed ball?

But begrudgingly, your boyfriend got oddly into it, going so far as to buy you both matching jerseys and keep tabs on the progressions of each game.

You thought it was cute - how into it he got, yelling and pouting at the screen in ways that he would deny later on as if the players on the TV could hear him.

Tonight was no different, Toji relaxing on the couch with you pressed up against him, reading a book, with the semi-finals of whatever football tournament he was following - when suddenly:

CRASH!

You blink momentarily, beer dripping down your shirt as Toji stares what used to be his beer can, the can now completely decimated by your boyfriend's death grip.

You gape at him in shock - your boyfriend turning uncharacteristically bright red.

"Did you just-"

"Shut up."

"Toji, that's the third time this week-"

"I know-"

"You're so lucky it didn't get on my book or you'd be so dead right now."

A/N: in honor of the super bowl heh - toji would so be a football dad (he probably bets on the games all the time too)

[poorrichardjr]

Ok, I can agree with both people here to some degree, though I think a few things should be brought up.

First, Gore actually won the popular vote in Florida. The Supreme Court stopped the recount that proved that Gore actually won, by a very slim margin. Second, instead of blaming Nader, as most mainstream democrats do, why don't they blame Jeb Bush for purging hundreds of thousands of people from the rolls who were alive and able to vote simply because their names corresponded to names of criminals in other states. This is still done btw every single election in republican run states.

Second, I don't blame all of the voters in the last election, republican or democrat. I don't blame the people who have no time to do the research because they work 60+ hours a week, have families to take care of and spend time with, or those who gladly lapped up the propaganda about Biden and Trump.

There is a caveat to that thought though. Being an informed voter is the responsibility of the people voting. Are you as a voter doing anything at all to learn about the candidates? Are you only getting your information from Fox and the like or RT or Sputnik or whatever? If so, you are slurping up that good ole propaganda and learning virtually nothing. Don't get me wrong, a lot of media outlets have some form of propaganda or slant to their news, but in aggregate, it isn't hard to determine some basic facts about a candidate even with all the partisan BS.

Believe it or not but Trump was not a normal republican president last time. He was crass, cruel, and tried numerous times to do things that his staffers said and warned him were illegal. He was impeached twice for doing things that no other president had done, especially inspiring the coup on January 6th. He also nearly led us into war with North Korea and Iran. We were on the brink of war with North Korea, and suddenly things changed when Russia spoke with both Trump and Un. What did they say that changed the heat? They probably told Trump that Kim wasn't really that bad and that he should be the bigger man and do some outreach, and they told Kim that all you had to do to get anything from Trump was flatter him, because he is an absolute moron.

Biden wasn't a great president, but honestly he really only did two terrible things. He appointed Merrick Garland to oversee the DOJ, and though he was a great prosecutor, he moved far too slowly and initially only focused on the foot soldiers of the insurrection. He never even went after all the congress people who were also deeply involved. Other than that, Biden did what he has always done his entire career and that is to support Israel. He would not use his presidential influence to curb what was happening in Israel, and that turned a lot of good people away from him.

Kamala wasn't really in the running long enough to get a good footing, and she didn't try to differentiate herself from Biden that much, simply because much of what Biden was doing worked. Jobs were up, the economy got much better than the rest of the world, and actual wages were going up for the first time in nearly thirty years.

In the end if you listened to Trump for a single hour and Kamala for a single hour their demeanor, ideas, and temperament should have been enough to get people to do the right thing, but it wasn't. The blatant racism and cruelty espoused by Trump wasn't enough. The knowledge that Trump would support anything Israel wanted in Gaza wasn't enough. The constant lying and whining about 2020 wasn't enough. In the end, if you couldn't guess that some of what is happening now and what could be happening soon was on the table, then you were a fucking idiot or so deeply into a partisan whole that you really didn't care.

Americans failed in their responsibility, and now they will be paying the price for their inability to take this seriously.

Just to be a clear, I am not a democrat, and yet I have voted for them in the last three elections because only a god damn moron couldn't see what Trump is. I hated Hilary because she was untrustworthy, despite my same opinion that she was probably the most qualified candidate for that position in decades. I hated Biden because he really is part of the reason we have many of the problems we have today, and he has been out of touch with a lot of America for years. I had no problems with Kamala, except that she was embracing the right-wingers who gave us Iraq and the quagmire that was Afghanistan and didn't do enough to try and get democrats to vote for her. You can criticize Trump all day, but republicans don't care and are going to vote for him anyway. She needed to rebuild the coalition that was disintegrating because of Gaza and the DOJ's inaction.

[manicmanuscription]

Selfishly Late

This is the the second part to unapologetically selfish!!

I have literally rewrote this piece like five fucking times no joke. It's still not perfect in my eyes and there's definitely going to be a part three but I needed to post this before I went insane.

Thank you all for your patience and support I love you <3

Word Count: 1554

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, suggestive, possessive Azriel.

Summary: Azriel has you running a little late to your introduction with his family. But he just can't seem to keep his hands off you.

divider by @strangergraphics-archive

You took one last look in the mirror before scoffing. 

Azriel had absolutely covered you in hickies. On any inch of skin he could reach, paying extra attention to your throat and collarbones. You gave him a pointed glare as he finished dressing behind you in the mirror but he was too busy fixing the cuff of his sleeves to notice. With a roll of your eyes you reached down for the scarf, draping it over your neck and brushing your hair back from underneath. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”  Azriel asked, slightly appalled as you adjusted your scarf and hair to cover some of the more egregious bruises.

He crossed the room in a few strides before standing directly behind you as you sat at your vanity. You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he pulled the scarf away from your neck gently and pinned your hair up with the jeweled metal hairpin he had gotten you last year as a birthday present, perfectly showing off the hickies.

“Azriel!” You exclaimed, turning in your seat to face him and his eyes gleamed at the yellowing dots decorating your bare skin. “I can not show up to your family’s house like this!” 

His brows furrowed slightly, the only sign of confusion you’d read off the usually stoic male. “But you look so pretty like this my love.” He murmured, reaching down and brushed his fingertips against the tender skin, his breath tickling your ear as he pressed another biting kiss to the juncture of your throat. 

Everyone told you once a mating bond snapped the males got unusually possessive, of course you believed them but Azriel was something on a whole different level. When you first met him he explained Illyrians were more territorial, all the instincts heightened. You couldn’t remember the exact sciences on it why but it made you feel so safe, loved and incredibly turned on. 

You gave him an exasperated look through the mirror, one he promptly ignored. His hands curling tighter around your shoulders. This had been going on for years. Every attempt at an introduction was thwarted by Azriel’s skilled persuasive abilities and intoxicating touch.

You did your best to stay strong this time, trying to ignore the way your entire being electrified at his close proximity, sparks running along every expanse of skin he touched. Your toes curled and you let out a soft breathy moan. One that Azriel had still heard and a victorious smile graced his lips. He hid his face in your neck so you didn’t see it. 

But you still did and it was enough to -barely- break you out of his spell. You stood up out of your chair and he rose to full height with you, towering over you slightly. “Azriel!” You reprimanded. “We are going to be late.”  

“We’re already late, what’s an extra five minutes?” He smirked, his shadows swirling around his shoulders as if in agreement. You scoffed, letting out a few curses under your breath. He had been pulling this all morning. 

You didn’t have to be a Spymaster to know Azriel was dragging his feet, first holding you tighter in bed so he could keep using your stomach as a pillow, spilling coffee on the outfit you’d picked out so you’d have to spend another 15 minutes trying to create a new one and now this hickey situation.  

You knew the High Lord or Lady was yelling at him too if any of the occasional winces and rubbing his temples were anything to go by. 

“I’m going to be making such a bad impression already!” You protested, holding your palm out for your clothing back. “Now give me my scarf so we can go please.” 

Azriel just looked at the light brown fabric still wrapped in his hands as if it committed a grievous act against him. “You’re so obsessed with this scarf.” 

You groaned, this time you were the one soothing your head with your fingertips. You knew he struggled when you were gone for long periods of time, both of your work schedules making it endlessly hard to actually have time to be husband and wife, mates, and life partners it drove you crazy too but you’d have to find a compromise because there was no way you were showing up to the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court’s estate covered in hickies. 

You told him as much and he paused, finally noticing your nerves of the event. Years after missed dates and scheduling conflicts and getting distracted by Azriel’s sly touch was all coming to an end, you were finally meeting his family, it loomed over your head and nerves pumped violently through your bloodstream.

It was a bittersweet feeling and you just wanted everything to go well, Azriel wouldn’t stop talking about how amazing his family was. His love for them ran deep and if they somehow didn’t like you….

Azriel begrudgingly passed the scarf over, your comfortability and safety would always come first and he tamped down those raging instincts telling him to whisk you and mark you more thoroughly and reclaim you over and over again especially after your long time apart. He instead pressed a comforting kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t worry love, we are completely mild compared to the crazy shit I’ve seen or heard my brother’s get into with their mates.” He shuddered and you laughed a little bit, pressing yourself closer to him so you could give him a quick hug and a soft peck to his lips, hearing a mumbled “Gods you’re killing me.”  Before sitting back down at your vanity. He sent a wave of reassurance through the bond and you returned it. You've dined with High Lord’s before this would be fine, you were fine. It had to be fine. 

“He’s not coming.” Mor said with finality. Looking over at the golden watch on Amren’s wrist. “I mean they were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago.” The ancient female pulled her hand away from the blonde sharply, giving her an even harsher look of disdain.

Cassian eyed the clock nervously and shot Mor a warning glare. It was incredibly important to him that this went well, you were a major part in his brother’s life and he wanted to not only make a good impression but also make sure you were good enough for Azriel, he recognized it as a silly thought you’d been mated for many years (unbeknownst to him) -and he’d definitely be having some words with Azriel about not being there for his mating ceremony later- but he wanted to make sure Azriel felt loved and cherished, taken care of with all the shit he’d already been through in his lifetime. 

Rhysand just let out a soft sigh, swirling the orange juice in his glass, desperately wishing it was something stronger. He’d assumed his dear brother would be late based on his previous patterns and the little reunion they’d witnessed last night but not this late and he was giving the Spymaster five more minutes before he winnowed the entire family, and their dining table to his living room torches all ablaze and pitchforks raised.

Although he couldn’t help but let out a soft smile at the thought of the usual strict and punctual Shadowsinger was willing to abandon his rigid routine for someone. 

“He’ll be here.” Feyre assured on her mate’s behalf, although her own confidence in him was waning, he did have a habit of simply not showing up when an introduction was planned. 

“You’re sure the female you saw wasn’t an illusion or a paid actress or-?” Mor started but suddenly the lighting in the room dimmed, shadows moving briefly across the edges of the floorboards before the sunlight streamed through the windows once again. An unfamiliar female’s voice rang throughout the large house as she laughed and Cassian’s heart flooded with relief at the sound, anxiety simultaneously  pumping in his chest, he wanted everything to go perfectly.

 “-are absolutely ridiculous.” “Yeah, yeah.” The shadowsinger muttered, the leftover pieces of conversation barely reaching the Inner Circle’s ears. 

Two sets of footsteps echoed across the floorboards, getting closer and closer to the dining room.

 Mor whispered a shocked. “No way.” Another step. “No way.” Another step. “No way.” 

She whispered it after every movement made until finally the couple came into view, standing in the open doorway and she couldn’t even make a sound, her mouth dropping at the sight of you. 

There was a few stunned moments of silence. 

The Inner Circle was staring at you as if you were a foreign creature and you shifted a little bit under their gaze, your mate had prepared you for an endless stream of questions but not the wide eyes and open mouths although you guess it was to be expected and Azriel tightened his hold on your shoulders protectively. 

“Surely you have better manners than this?” He bit out a little harsher than originally meant after a few more uncomfortable moments of stillness. 

You gave them a bright smile and a timid wave, breaking them out of their trance and all of a sudden they erupted with movement pulling you in for hugs and shaking your hands. Not so subtly inspecting you all the while bombarding you with questions.

This was going to be quite the breakfast. 

[princesseilish]

BLOOD MOON .3

Vampire!Paige x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, stalking, obsession

Synopsis: paige's obsession with you is starting to crack, will you let her bite you?

chapter three, the end of the blade

Paige had been alone for a long time.

She had learned how to keep people at arm’s length, how to blend in, how to disappear before anyone got too close.

She had spent years perfecting the act of control, of restraint, of inhuman patience.

And now, standing here, with Y/N’s eyes locked onto hers—expectant, searching—

She felt all of it slipping through her fingers.

Y/N wasn’t just curious anymore.

She was determined.

Paige could see it in the sharpness of her gaze, in the way she didn’t move, in the way her pulse—steady and strong—didn’t spike in fear.

Y/N wasn’t afraid of her.

And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

Paige took a slow breath, feeling the air shift, feeling the night press in around them. “You should stop asking questions.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Because I don’t have the strength to lie to you anymore.

Because if you look any closer, you’ll see everything.

Because once you know the truth, I won’t be able to let you go.

Paige clenched her jaw, forcing a smirk. “Because I’m a very boring person.”

Y/N huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You stalked me two nights ago, vanished into thin air, and now you’re standing outside my building like it’s just another Tuesday. You don’t get to call yourself boring.”

Paige’s stomach twisted.

She should leave.

She needed to leave.

But then Y/N tilted her head again—her signature move, the one that meant she was figuring something out—and before Paige could even prepare for it, she said,

“You don’t blink a lot.”

Paige stilled.

Her blood ran cold.

Y/N’s lips pressed together, her gaze flickering over Paige’s face, like she was putting the pieces together. “And you never check your phone. You don’t fidget, and you always disappear right before sunrise.”

Paige forced a laugh, but it was thin, fraying at the edges. “You think I’m a vampire or something?”

It was meant to be a joke. A way to turn the conversation, to make Y/N roll her eyes and drop it entirely.

But Y/N didn’t laugh.

She just stared.

And then, so quietly that it nearly knocked the breath from Paige’s lungs—

“I don’t know what I think yet.”

Yet.

Paige’s pulse—fake as it was—pounded against her ribs.

She needed to stop this before it went too far. Before Y/N saw past the cracks in her carefully built mask.

But then—

A flicker of movement.

Something fast.

Something deadly.

Paige barely had time to react before a presence appeared behind Y/N, smooth and silent as a shadow.

Azzi.

Y/N hadn’t noticed yet, hadn’t even sensed the shift in the air, but Paige had.

And her stomach dropped.

Azzi wasn’t supposed to be here.

She wasn’t supposed to know.

But she was standing there now, just a few feet behind Y/N, expression unreadable, her eyes locked onto Paige’s with something that made Paige’s breath catch.

Warning.

Paige’s hands curled into fists.

This was bad.

This was really bad.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, frowning. “Paige?”

Paige’s jaw tightened.

Azzi hadn’t made a sound. Hadn’t even breathed.

And yet—

Y/N had felt something.

Paige had never been more certain that she was going to lose her in the worst possible way.

Because Y/N wasn’t just close to the truth anymore.

She was standing on the edge of it.

And Azzi?

Azzi was here to make sure she never stepped over that line.

Paige had been in fights before.

She had faced creatures far older, far stronger than herself. She had battled in wars humans never knew existed, had seen blood paint the streets long before civilization built itself around the graves of those who had fallen.

She had survived.

But standing here, caught between the weight of Y/N’s gaze and the silent warning in Azzi’s, she felt something she rarely ever did.

Powerless.

Azzi hadn’t spoken a word, but Paige could hear what she was saying.

What the fuck are you doing?

She knows too much.

Fix it.

Y/N, oblivious to the silent tension crackling between them, shifted slightly. Paige could hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, could feel the warmth radiating off of her, could smell her—

And she realized, too late, that she had taken a step closer.

That was all it took.

Azzi moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

Not towards Y/N, but in front of her, placing herself between them like a shield, like a silent threat.

Y/N frowned, caught off guard by the sudden shift, and took a step back, her gaze flickering between them. “…What’s going on?”

Paige’s stomach dropped.

Azzi’s jaw tightened. “You should go home, Y/N.”

It was the first thing she had said, her voice smooth but sharp, carrying the weight of something unspoken.

Something dangerous.

Y/N hesitated.

And Paige saw it—the way her shoulders tensed, the way her fingers curled into the fabric of her jacket, the way her breathing changed.

She wasn’t just curious anymore.

She was uneasy.

Not quite afraid, but closer than ever.

And it killed Paige.

Because Y/N had never looked at her like that before.

She had never been nervous in Paige’s presence.

But now?

Now, with Azzi standing between them, with tension thick enough to suffocate, she was finally seeing it.

Finally realizing that something wasn’t right.

Paige swallowed hard, forcing her voice to stay even. “Azzi’s right. Go home.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed deeper. “No.”

Paige winced.

Of course she wouldn’t.

Of course she would stand her ground, because Y/N wasn’t the type to back away from something that didn’t make sense. She was too smart, too stubborn, and Paige had spent too much time watching her, knowing how her mind worked, knowing that pushing her away like this was only going to make her fight harder to understand.

“Y/N.” Paige took a slow breath, voice softer, more desperate. “Please.”

Y/N froze.

Because Paige never begged.

Never sounded like that.

Like she was breaking.

Like she was standing at the edge of something irreversible.

Paige watched as something flickered in Y/N’s eyes—uncertainty, hesitation, maybe even fear—but before she could say anything else—

Azzi moved again.

This time, it was too close.

Just enough to tip the balance.

And Y/N—who had spent her life studying human behavior, studying every micro-expression, every unconscious shift in movement—noticed.

Paige felt the moment it happened.

The moment Y/N’s entire perception of them cracked.

Because Y/N took half a step back, eyes flickering between them, realizing something wasn’t right, sensing that Azzi had moved in a way no human should.

Then—slowly, carefully—

“What are you?”

Paige’s heart stopped.

Azzi went completely still.

And in that moment—under the flickering streetlight, with the cold pressing in, with Y/N looking at them like she was finally seeing the truth—

Paige knew.

She had lost.

Because there was no taking this back.

No pretending Y/N hadn’t noticed.

No undoing the way she had just looked at them, like she was seeing monsters where people had once stood.

For the first time in her existence, Paige felt something worse than hunger.

She felt true, absolute fear.

Not for herself.

For Y/N.

Because now that she knew—

She wasn’t safe anymore.

Paige had imagined this moment before.

Not like this, not with Y/N standing in front of her, wide-eyed and frozen in the dim glow of the streetlight. But she had thought about it—what it would mean for Y/N to know, for her to look at Paige and see her for what she really was.

She had imagined it in nightmares where Y/N screamed and ran.

She had imagined it in daydreams where Y/N whispered, I don’t care.

But she hadn’t imagined this.

The silence.

The way Y/N’s fingers twitched at her sides, gripping the edges of her jacket, grounding herself in the weight of what she had just said.

The way Azzi didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, waiting for Paige to handle it—waiting to see if she would.

And Paige—Paige wasn’t sure she could.

Y/N had asked the question, had taken the first step past the point of no return, and now Paige was standing at the edge of the cliff with her, staring down at the inevitable fall.

Lie.

Deny it.

Turn away before it’s too late.

But then Y/N shivered, just slightly, her breath coming out in a slow, visible exhale in the cold night air—

And Paige was so aware of the fact that her own didn’t.

Her hands clenched at her sides.

Azzi still hadn’t spoken.

That was a warning in itself.

Paige needed to be careful.

She needed to choose her words precisely.

She swallowed, voice quiet. “What do you think we are?”

Y/N’s gaze flickered over her face, analyzing, dissecting, reading her the way she always did.

Paige wished, for once, that she was harder to understand.

Y/N tilted her head slightly—Paige’s fatal tell.

Then, slowly, carefully—

“Not human.”

Paige flinched.

She hadn’t expected it to hurt, but it did.

Y/N had never looked at her like this before.

Like she was trying to make sense of her.

Like she was looking at something she shouldn’t be able to comprehend.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Azzi shifted slightly, her body still angled between them, ready to step in if Paige did something stupid.

But Paige wasn’t sure what the right move was anymore.

Her mind was scrambling, running through the possibilities.

If she denied it, Y/N wouldn’t let it go.

If she confirmed it—

That was dangerous.

That was the kind of mistake people died for.

Y/N exhaled slowly. “Paige.”

Her name sounded different now.

Like it was balancing on the edge of something fragile.

And Paige—against her better judgment, against every instinct screaming at her to stop this before it went too far—

Took a step forward.

Y/N’s breath hitched.

Not in fear.

In realization.

Because Paige had moved too smoothly, too fast, too unnatural.

And she knew.

Paige could see it in her eyes, in the way her fingers curled slightly, like she had just confirmed something in her own head.

Paige should have stopped.

But she couldn’t.

Because there was something in Y/N’s expression, something Paige wasn’t expecting—

Curiosity.

Not fear.

Not disgust.

Just—understanding.

Like she had already figured it out before she even asked.

And that was worse.

Because now Paige couldn’t take it back.

Couldn’t erase the way Y/N was seeing her now.

Paige swallowed hard. “You should be scared of me.”

Y/N didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Then—softly, honestly—

“I don’t think I am.”

Paige felt that.

Deep in her chest, deep in the space where her heart should have been beating.

And just as she was about to say something—anything—

Azzi moved.

Quick. Sharp. Dangerous.

“Go home, Y/N.”

Not a suggestion.

A command.

Paige winced.

Y/N’s expression flickered—something dark, something uncertain—before her lips pressed together.

And then—without another word—she turned and walked away.

Paige didn’t breathe until she disappeared into her building.

Then—

Azzi turned on her.

The silence between them was heavy, suffocating, pressing down like a weight Paige could barely hold up.

Azzi’s voice was calm, steady, but deadly.

“She knows, Paige.”

Paige knew.

And worse—

So did Y/N.

Paige didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

She could still hear Y/N’s footsteps fading, the soft rustle of fabric, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat as she disappeared behind her apartment door.

She was gone.

But the damage was already done.

Azzi turned to her, slow and deliberate, the way only someone with time could move.

Paige wasn’t sure if she had ever seen her this angry before.

“She knows,” Azzi said again, like she was testing the weight of the words, seeing how they felt rolling off her tongue. “Do you get that, Paige? It’s over.”

Paige exhaled sharply, trying to shove down the panic rising in her throat. “She doesn’t know—”

“Don’t,” Azzi snapped.

Paige flinched.

Azzi’s voice had never had that edge with her before.

Not like this.

Not like she was barely holding back something dangerous.

“You think she’s just going to drop it?” Azzi continued, stepping forward, forcing Paige back against the streetlight’s cold glow. “She’s smart, Paige. Too smart. She’s already put it together, and you just stood there and let her.”

Paige clenched her jaw, trying to keep her breathing steady, even though she didn’t need to breathe. “She didn’t run.”

Azzi froze.

And for a moment, something flashed in her expression—something almost like…

Fear.

“That’s the problem,” Azzi muttered, running a hand over her face.

Paige didn’t respond.

Because she already knew.

Y/N should have run.

She should have turned away and never looked back.

But she hadn’t.

And now, that meant something dangerous.

Azzi shook her head. “You have to end this.”

Paige stiffened. “What?”

“You have to,” Azzi repeated, voice quieter now, but heavier. “Before someone else finds out.”

Paige’s stomach dropped.

Because she knew exactly what Azzi meant.

This wasn’t just about them anymore.

This was about the others.

The ones who wouldn’t hesitate.

The ones who would see Y/N as a loose end, as a threat, as prey.

Paige’s throat felt tight. “She’s not in danger—”

“Yes, she is,” Azzi cut in, voice sharp. “Because you made her important.”

Paige swallowed hard, but it didn’t help the sinking feeling in her chest.

“I’ll handle it,” she murmured.

Azzi didn’t look convinced.

But she didn’t argue.

She just gave Paige one last unreadable glance, then turned and disappeared into the night.

Paige stood there for a long time, staring at the empty street.

At Y/N’s building.

At the single, dimly lit window on the third floor.

She didn’t move until the light went out.

And even then, she still couldn’t convince herself to walk away.

Because she knew the truth.

She wasn’t going to let Y/N go.

Even if it destroyed them both.

[moonchild1]

okay so the first thing that caught my eye was the warning yoon why????? a whole jk and ady warning i can't i don't think i can make it through them fucking 😩😩😩 like oc and nel i can handle but jk and ady ugh nooooooo our boy our prince not her please anyone else i can take but not her (i just realized the hate train towards ady is strong damn my loyalty to oc ain't cracking) so i am just going to power through that part and take the angst that comes with it (which I welcome) i did notice that subtle hint at of using someone and the fantasies uhmmmmm ok that must be the upside... I honestly wonder why oc isn't mentioning her friendship with jk I honestly love it it's giving me little tingles, i don't think i mentioned it but uhm this slow burn is everything its freaking burning and i think oc is definitely feeling it now that jk is with someone, the little encounter at the cafe and the texting they are just adorable and fluffy my face hurts from the smiles... I just love how they have these opinions about each other's partners like the red flags they each see but they are all about each other's happiness, oc held back with ady but oooh jk isn't 😂 you go boy you tell her gosh i love his character in that scene.... oc and nel's scene had me pausing cause i literally went why the heck is she thinking about jk at a time like this and then she said it too it was epic oh oc you give me the giggles😂

wait what she didn't finish?!?!??!?!?! THIS IS MY ACTUAL REACTION IT'S LIKE OC IS IN MY HEAD ANSWERING ALL MY QUESTIONS OC BABYGIRL NO DIDN'T YOU LITERALLY GIVE YURI ADVICE ABOUT HER DATE AND NOW THIS 😩😩😩

and we jump straight into jk's horror I can't help it this back to back is amazing, not me shouting no through out his entire scene why jk why, here's oc is having trouble and ady on her fourth whyyyyyyyy he better have oc on his mind

i love how jungkook says nels name in full i can literally picture the disgust and the face he would pull (cue oc eye roll) italics and all..

i am writing this as i read so everything scene/sentence i go to write something on my notepad so i hope it all makes sense and let's just say when he shut her up the scene was better to read ugh jungkook likes oc he likes her fuck can they get together already i am dying here this chapter was perfect (even if ady was in it) like the build up and their thoughts both being on each other oh that tension is building i love the progression between them and the next chapter is gone be golden ahhhhhh lemme run over

yoon you beautiful genius you have my heart this fic is everything and it's getting more and more captivating as it goes along i can't wait to see what more you do in this series seriously yoon with every update i go back and re-read everything again and I am in awe every single time and your talent, like this should be printed like i want a physical copy when it's done you are brilliant and such a star for coming up with this ily yoon i hope you know that 🥹🖤

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 6 | M

Title: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Nel's here for the week and you couldn't be more excited!! Jungkook's another story though...

Warnings: M, fluff, smut, swearing, drinking, pining, angsstt, slight boundary pushing (not sexual), unwanted/ unneeded overprotectiveness, jealousy, lying, [reader eats bacon and eggs but it's not specified what kind or where it's from, just bacon and eggs, so whether that means veggie, vegan or normal is up to you], intentional pissing off of Nel, a little spat between major characters, sex as a plot device.

Mature warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 6,945

Release Date: April 20, 2:00PM

A/N 1: 6 months later and we have chapter 6! slow updates, but they will be written and they will be posted. I have no plans to abandon this, I just, very unfortunately, have a bit of an outernet life now. So not a lot of free time to be creative which I hate. But it's here!!

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Mature Warnings: Consensual sex x 2, both reader with Nel and JK with Ady -> sorry not sorry cuz it's plot sex. We got us some: kissing, protected sex (as we should), missionary, fingering, oral (f. rec), tiny bit of groping (consenual), multiple orgasms, loud sex, like annoyingly, sex as a terrible coping mechanism (imo), fantasizing.

Bouncing lightly from foot to foot, you’re buzzing after finally receiving the text you were waiting on a few minutes ago.

Nelly <3 [10:10pm]: Landed. See you soon 😘

He’s almost here. He’s almost here!

Just a few more seconds until—

The gates slide open. A flood of people in a mixture of sweats and business casual wear with luggage of all sizes and neck pillows walk through. You hold up the sign above your head with both hands, a smile that could outshine the sun plastered on your face, and search.

Where is he? Where is he, where is he, where is he, you think as you scour the bodies filing out of the automatic doors. You can’t see him. He’s none of the nameless faces that pass you by as they find their family, friends or rides. 

Is this even the right group of people? What if his luggage got lost and he won’t be out with this group. What if he got taken aside for some reason, and now he’s being held in some dusty room being asked a bunch of stupid questions he doesn’t know how to answer? What if he’s fig—

But then there’s a gap in the crowd, and the boy you’ve spent the last half decade of your life with comes into perfect, crystalline view. His lips pulled taught, teeth beautifully bared as he sets his sights on your sign high in the air, then down to you.

And you're running. 

You’re running and dodging and swerving until you’re jumping into Nels arms as he abandons his suitcase in favour of keeping you both up right. He buries his face into your neck, holding you so tightly you think he’ll never let go. And that’s just fine with you as you hold on just as tight, taking in a big breath of him too. 

He smells like airplane and coastal breeze and most importantly, home. 

Nel smells like home.

A muffled, “Ohhhhhhh, I missed you,” greets your ears, and you melt into him even more if that's even possible.

“I missed you too,” you say, pulling back and kissing him. You don’t really care if there’s an audience or not right now. Not when Nel’s here, and he’s in your arms, and he’s yours for a whole 9 days and life is as it should be once again.

He releases his hold slightly, but your arms don’t leave his shoulders. The sign still clutched, now crushed and crinkled, in one hand. 

“Car?” he asks, a kiss to your nose.

“This way,” you lead, releasing your hold.

Luckily, his suitcase is small, so he forgoes rolling it, instead gripping the handle at the top and carrying it in one hand. Your own reaching for his other and not letting go. He’s going to have to peel you off him if he wants space right now. 

Nel’s wearing his usual fall attire; a dark green school sweater that has ‘ECAD’ written over the chest in a large, academic looking mustard yellow font, regular old blue jeans, and dark brown lace up boots. His short, dirty blond hair's covered by a hat you’d gotten him as a highschool graduation present, and his ocean blue eyes remain as gorgeous as they were the day you met. 

Passing through doors to the outside and back to lot J, you hop in the car as he puts his bag in the trunk.

“How have you been? What’s new? What’s not? Tell me everything,” he asks as he climbs in and sits beside you, hand finding yours again. 

Never gone for too long. You relish in the comfort and happiness that alone brings you. 

He’s finally here. You finally have him back.

“I’m great. Yuri’s still Yuri, classes are only a little more challenging this year, but I’m still at the top of them,” Nel slips in a ‘not surprised’ and you smile brighter as you continue. “They’re already telling us to start brainstorming ideas for our thesis show next year,” you have no idea what you’re going to do, but you’re working on it. “Campus is the same, dorms are the same, the cafe’s the same. Though, they have the egg tarts I like in more, which is awesome for my taste buds and terrible for my bank account.” 

Vivian stayed true to her word, and now they had the tarts in every week. 

“I can only imagine,” Nel jokes.

“Uhhmm, what else…” a thought pops up, and you guess you can tell him. It doesn’t reveal anything the whole world doesn’t already know. “The prince is dating Adaline Dupree.”

His eyebrows raise, remembering, “Oh yeah, that’s right, the prince goes to your school now.”

“Yep.”

“Have you met him?”

Is he seriously not completely shocked at the prince dating Adaline? You only bitched about her to him all the time.

“Uhhh… yep, once or twice, I guess.” 

You hate it. You hate lying, especially to Nel. You hate it so much, but it’s for the greater good. It’s to keep the peace. But that doesn’t stop the burning feeling in your chest nor the roil in your belly.

“The day he arrived Yuri dragged me down to see him speak. She made us sit front row because Yuri,” Nel nods, knowing exactly what you mean. “He had everyone assemble to hear why he was at school and tell us not to treat him like a prince. He wants to be able to study without his title getting in the way.”

You hit your blinker, making a one handed left turn. 

“Makes sense. Is he nice at least?” Nel doesn’t sound at all suspicious, and why should he? You’ve never given him reason to not believe you at your word before. Never lied to him before.

Fuck you hate this so much. It was so much easier when he was 5000 miles away. But now that he's right beside you? This week may end up being more difficult than you thought.

“He was very princely. Tried to kiss my hand like he did like every other girl there, but I made it a handshake instead. Figured if he wants to be treated like everyone else, I would liste—Oh!” you laugh before you can even get the words out.

“What?” he asks, intrigued but confused.

You can barely speak coherently. “You should have seen Yuri’s face when I called him Jungkook and not Prince or Your Highness...her eyes nearly fell out of her head,” tears are starting to form from laughing so hard. “It was great.”

“He didn’t mind?” Nel asks and you shake your head. Yuri’s face that day will forever be seared into your brain for whenever you need a pick-me-up. 

“No, he was grateful actually. I was the first person that had addressed him like that, the way he’d asked to be.” Stopping at a red light, you're finally regaining yourself.

“Well,” he squeezes your hand, “you always were good at first impressions,” and looks at you so softly you can’t help but smile into the kiss you give him. 

He remembers that school art fair just as fondly as you do. 

Nel pulls away first with a thought. “Is Yuri with us this time?” 

Yuri hadn’t been able to go home last year, her parents too busy on a work trip, so she stayed back and kicked it with you two, but also gave you your space when needed.

Lots and lots of space.

“Nope! Parents welcomed her with open arms this afternoon, I’m sure. They’re all on some tropical island down south. She’s bringing me an ocean bottle though, so I’m excited for that. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to add a new one.”

Everytime you travelled somewhere with a beach you got a glass bottle and filled it with half sand, half water, added in some shells or rocks and labelled it. Instead of towels, keychains, or magnets, you did ocean bottles. They lined a shelf in your room back home. 

You probably have at least fifteen of them by now. Your mum likes to travel and make sure you experience the world around you, not just your little corner of it.

“Oh that’s great babe! I know how much you love those.”

“Yeah, it is.” You lean your head on his shoulder, basking in his presence for as long as the light remains red. 

He’s here. He’s yours. 

You only have to do this for a couple more years and then you’ll be together all the time. God you can’t wait. But you are nothing if not disciplined. 

And it’s going to be so worth it in the end.

The rest of the ride to your dorm goes by quickly. 

Some more red lights, some more kisses. You point out the same things you always do on the way back, and Nel acts like it’s the first time he’s seen them, just like he always does.

His hand never leaves yours over the center console. 

Soon enough, you find yourselves flopping down on your bed. Bags, jackets and shoes, scattered. Nel pulls you into him, his head on your pillow, yours lying on his chest. True peace settling in for the first time in months.

“I can't wait until we’re done school and I have more than four and a half months with you a year,” he sighs.  “It’s not enough. I want more. Need more.”

“Me too. But good things come to those who wait.”

“Yeah…I’m just really sick of waiting.” 

“Me too,” you repeat in a yawn. 

Nel’s breathing slowly evens out as you lie there, content to be in your arms again. And you look up to see his eyes closed, warm exhales brushing over your face from his nose. 

You can’t blame him for being so tired. He’d had an early morning exam before flying out, even brought his suitcase to it so he could leave the second he was done. Then, the flight alone was ten hours, plus travel times to and from the airports was about an hour each way, and the wait time before boarding was another two. 

Shit, he’s probably been awake for around eighteen hours straight at this point because he’s also the type that can’t sleep on planes no matter what he tries. 

Oh, Nel...Of course he’s exhausted.

Giving him a squeeze before getting up, you take off his socks and jeans carefully, then tuck him into bed as much as you can. You’d try the sweater, but it involved too many working parts and you didn’t want to wake him, so you figure it’s best to have the window open tonight instead. 

Grabbing your phone, you tiptoe to the bathroom and do your night time routine. It’s not an overly complicated one, just brushing your teeth, washing your face and a simple 3 step skincare routine of cleanser, toner and moisturizer. Short and sweet, but it does the job. 

Halfway through brushing, you do your friend due diligence and send Yuri a ‘back safe’ text, just like she’d sent you her own ‘here safe’ when she’d landed.

You spit and rinse, moving onto washing your face and applying cleanser.

Teeth clean and face moisturized, you sneak into your room again. Nel's still out cold. 

You sneak out of habit—your mom wakes at the sound of a pin dropping. But absolutely nothing could wake Nel now outside of his mother’s voice and his morning alarm. It’s a talent of his you’ve always been jealous of.  

Removing today's clothes and tossing them in your overflowing hamper—reminder to self: do laundry—you slide on your pjs and climb into bed beside him, plugging in your phone and setting it down. 

A thought pops into your head and you pick it back up, shooting a quick text before you can think twice. 

You [11:26pm]: home safe

It pings not seconds later.

PJK [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso  PJK [11:27pm]: glad ur home safe

Your heart beats a little louder at the nickname, and you chalk it up to the excitement still in you at having Nel here and being tired. 

But you sleep better that night than you have in a long time. 

A short, repetitive, rhythmic vibration. 

Picasso [11:26pm]: home safe

Jungkook is still standing in the same corner by the wall, Adaline somewhere in the crowd in front of him dancing with her friends. She asked him to join her, but he declined. He doesn’t need to see himself more than half drunk and dancing on the cover of tomorrow’s news cycles. Not to mention his security team would shut the party down the second a camera flashed.

His guards are carefully stationed throughout the house, all dressed down in casual wear, a few with empty cups in their hands. One is watching some sort of beer pong like game in the corner, another is mingling with some guys over in the kitchen. Three he can’t immediately see. And he knows his head guard is outside in a black car ready to get him out at a moment's notice.

Nobody can tell they aren’t here for the party, not unless they’re sober enough to notice watchful eyes continually making their way over the crowd as the night goes on. 

Your text woke him from the stillness he’s adapted from standing so long, trying hard not to draw attention to himself. 

You were home safe. Home safe from the airport. Home safe from picking up Cornelius. 

Your boyfriend. 

Cornelius, your boyfriend. 

He doesn’t acknowledge his teeth grinding.

You were home from picking up your beau but even then, you’d texted him to let him know you were back on campus safely. To let him know you were okay. 

It’s the first thing that makes him smile all night.

So he sends back, a bit to quickly: 

Me [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso Me [11:26pm]: glad ur home safe

Because it means something to him that you deem him close enough to send a ‘home safe’ text too. 

That you want him to know you’re back.  

Want him to know you’re safe.

Whether you know it or not, your safety means a lot to Jungkook, so that little two word text makes his heart lurch. 

He needs to leave. 

He needs to get out of this fucking house and back to his dorm. He came, he drank, he observed, he fulfilled his boyfriend duty.

That’s enough for him. 

He shoots Adaline a text that says he isn’t feeling well and gets out as fast as he possibly can, dodging bodies left and right and doing his best to hide his face. 

Once he’s out, security team in tow, the cooling midnight air does him some good. 

“Someone make sure she gets back to her dorm safe,” he says in their general direction, brain too muddled to be polite in this exact moment, but it’s nothing they haven’t seen before. 

This is going to be such a long week.

He can’t wait till it’s over. Till he doesn’t have to share anymore. 

He was never very good at it anyway. 

The smell of bacon wakes you. 

And toast, and…

Eggs? 

You think, at least. Since when do you have bacon? Or eggs? Toast is a given, it’s part of your life’s blood.

Opening your eyes, you blindly reach for your phone, successfully unplugging it and bringing it to your face.

The screen is too bright but you suffer through it, squinting.

9:27am. 

9:27? 

You slept for ten hours!?

You can’t remember the last time you slept more than 6 consecutively, aside from recovery nights, and even then it was fitful.

Nel comes in with two plates, his full with a very Eastern breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. Yours with two pieces of toast, lots of bacon, a bit of eggs and some fruit. Where did he—?

He smiles at your confusion, “You have a cafeteria that sells breakfast food, you know.”

You know that.

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because the look on your face says otherwise.”

You flop back down and pull the pillow over your head, mumbling incoherent nonsense. You rarely used the dorm cafeteria for breakfast. Much preferring the greenhouse cafe or simple toast and juice that you can make in your dorm.

He chuckles. “Two breakfasts for me then, okay, if you insist,” Nel moves to leave but you screech, uncovering your face.

“Noo! I want it. Please, sweet nutrition,” he hands the plate over when you sit up, arms out stretched, and you dig in. 

After a piece of bacon, you ask, “How long have you been up?”

Nel’s sitting with his legs crossed at the end of your bed, munching away, “Long enough to get changed, grab my wallet, get food and come back.”

The bacon is really good. You’ve never been so glad he knew you so well as you grab another piece from the dwindling pile.

“You slept well then, too? That’s good, I’m glad. You needed the rest.”

“Having you around always makes it easier to fall asleep,” he nudges your knee with his elbow.

Even after five years he can still make you blush.

“I know the feeling.”

You two fall into step, starting your weeks in advance prepared plans, the rest of your day passing quickly. 

Too quickly. 

And so does the next day, and the next, and the next. 

All of your activities are going great. The zoo, picnics, study dates, restaurant dates, historical, artistic and architectural museum tours. Even a swim at the school’s indoor pool, and there’s plenty more to come. 

Things slip back into being easy, just as they always have been with Nel, ever since that first day back in tenth grade. 

He knows you like the back of his hand and predicts your moves before you make them, just like you do for him. 

You know his favourite foods, and where he prefers to park when driving—always avoiding open curbs—you know his dream travel destinations, and who his favourite musicians are. You know his favourite pencils to design with and his favourite pencils to shade with, that he always put on his right sock first, then right shoe, then left sock and left shoe. You know that his drink order is an iced coffee with two cream and two sugar, that he prefers loose shirts over fitted ones, and that his favourite colour is orange.

It’s a pretty orange too, not just any orange. You wonder if it’s anything like Jungkook's–

Wait. 

You search your memory for the information, going through favourite foods, drinks, music—all discussed previously, because you know their answers. But colour?

Nothing.

How have you never asked what Jungkook’s favourite colour is?

Isn’t that usually one of the first things people ask when they’re trying to get to know one another? Funny. Guess you’ll have to inquire the next time you see him. 

Anyways, just like you know everything there is to know about Nel, he knows everything about you too, including your routines. 

Which is why at twelve noon every day, he starts getting ready to go to the greenhouse for your afternoon study session.

Including today.  

Your week’s already half over and you hate it. Time always moves far to fast when all you want it to do is slow the fuck down. 

You only have five days left. Five days.

You’re lucky the greenhouse cafe is open during break, some places on campus are required to stay open for the students who can’t make it home, but greenhouse chooses to. 

As you and Nel turn the corner you see a familiar figure sitting in his old spot at the back of the patio. The same hat, mask and hoodie, now paired with a leather jacket on top due to the weather starting to cool down.

You can tell Jungkook wasn’t expecting to see you by the way he stiffens before those all too familiar brown eyes of his meet your own. Which is fair, your schedule shifts a bit when you’re on break, he isn’t used to you being here at twelve on Wednesdays. 

But as quickly as he sees you, his gaze is back on his laptop, like he never saw you in the first place. 

Like you asked him to do. 

And a sharp pain stings inside your chest.

When you and Nel get to your table, he sits in the seat opposite to where you always do, leaving where Jungkook usually sits beside you, empty. 

A part of you is grateful for that, though you can’t figure out why and table that self discussion for a later date. 

Setting down your things, you ask Nel if he wants coffee. He answers yes, like always, and after a quick visit with Viv, you're pulling out your chair and setting down your cups. Your back faces Jungkook. It’s a small mercy you can’t see him. Maybe you can forget he’s here and actually focus on your work. 

But it’s also exactly because of your position, that you can’t see as Jungkook subtly watches you over the rim of his laptop while you and Nel talk quietly and study. 

Nel can though. 

It feels weird to ignore him. To pretend you don’t know one another when for the better part of the last seven weeks all you’ve done is talk, hang out, study or a mixture of the three, every day. 

When having him sit behind you and not beside you feels so wrong and so foreign. 

But this is your own doing, you caused this. So you need to suck it up and get used to it. 

This is exactly what you asked for all those weeks ago. The perfect solution to your problem. 

No one can know. 

Not Nel. 

Not anyone. 

But fuck, if it didn’t absolutely suck in practice. 

Setting some of your books out around you and on the table Jungkook usually uses, you dig into your business homework. Having a major and a minor are great for job prospects, on paper, and in practice after you’ve completed them.

But getting them? It takes years of hard work and dedication with no distractions. 

None.  

You spend almost every free moment you have doing homework or practicing, trying to get ahead, trying to stay on top.

…Trying to beat Adaline. 

But you just use that as fuel for your drive to be better. To be the best. 

Competition is healthy. Especially when you’re winning against the rich brat who’s used to getting what she wants. 

Not that you're petty.

Ehh…You are. But only a little bit. At least you can admit it.

Nel gets to work as well, the sunlight from his spot is great for drawing. He’s working on a rough version of his thesis project that’s due at the end of the year. He has to have multiple completed renderings as well as a scale model, and he’s been brainstorming since last year about what he wants to do.

Currently, he’s drawing up an airport, trying to design so that it’s not confusing and complicated for first time users. 

However, his occasional swearing and muttering to himself makes you think he’s having a tough time with it. 

You try not to laugh, but a small giggle slips out. 

“What,” Nel asks, a little distracted.

“Nothing.”

“No really, what’s up? I could use a laugh right now,” he insists, eyes on you at first. But then something behind you steals their attention every few seconds. 

Someone. 

“You just…you still make funny sounds when you're frustrated with a drawing. It’s endearing.” You reach to place your hand on his knee, trying to gain back his full attention. 

Ignore him, Nel. Please ignore him. 

“Yeah...” he exhales. “I guess airports are out,” his hand covers yours quickly and you hear a faint chair screech from behind you. Nel doesn’t miss it as he says. “But I do have a much bigger appreciation and understanding for all those who came before me,” pupils now unmoving from their target behind you. 

Fine. 

You’ll acknowledge it. 

“Is everything okay? You keep looking at something? Is there an animal or…” You know what he’s looking at, but go so far as to turn anyway, playing up the ‘confused girlfriend’ role. But Nel squeezes your hand, stopping you. 

He leans in, placing a fake mask of serene on and lowers his voice. “That guy keeps looking at us, moreso you. And he looks pissed off.”

Fuck, think of something.

Anything. Anythi—Oh!

You lean in too, so close your noses almost touch. “He’s probably just upset we’re talking. The greenhouse cafe is usually a quiet place to work,” good enough, you think. That’s believable, right?. “It’ll be fine. Let’s just ignore him and get back to work.”

You place a quick kiss on his lips but Nel isn’t letting up on his unnecessary vigilance. But then again, he doesn’t know that Jungkook is the opposite of a threat to you. So you reassure him, in your own way.  

“Babe, seriously. If you’re going to be all protective or whatever, don’t. I come here everyday when you're not here and I’m still alive and unharmed. Go get a sandwich or a refill to get your head off of it and say hi to Viv. She’s still here, and I’m betting she remembers you. You’re kinda hard to forget.” 

You can tell Nel’s about to reject the idea when you insist. “I’ll be fine, Nel. Promise. Three years and not a scratch on me.” 

He sighs through his nose, but relents. 

Placing his drawing pad on the table, he gets up, but not before placing another kiss to your forehead and mumbling, “Scream ‘cumquat’ if you’re in danger and I’ll come running, okay?” 

You laugh outright at that. “Will do.”

You watch him as he goes, and the second he’s inside, you’re racing for your phone, typing at an astounding speed.

You [1:45pm]: Didn’t your royal upbringing teach you not to stare so blatantly!??? Nel caught you

You hear a quiet ping from behind you followed by a small exhale that sounds more like a disguised chuckle. 

PJK [1:45pm]: Yes.  

You [1:45pm]: So you intentionally got caught?

PJK [1:45pm]: Maybe

You [1:45pm]: Shithead

PJK [1:46pm]: Rude

You [1:46pm]: You deserve it

PJK [1:46pm]: I know. I’m just making sure he’s treating you right.  PJK [1:47pm]: and trying to see if he acts differently when he knows he’s being watched. He’s very protective you know 

Jungkook saw the second Nel noticed he was watching you. 

His posture changed from easy going to on alert. His hand went so quickly to yours on his knee and his public displays of affection increased significantly. 

It was pathetic, really. It went above a normal amount of protection. Nel was claiming his ‘property’, making sure Jungkook knew not to touch. 

And the nasty look Nel gave him as he entered the cafe—gratefully still unrecognizable in his disguise—was another silent way to say back off, stay away, and don’t try anything or you’ll regret it. 

It was a red flag in Jungkook's mind. A small one, but it’s still there because his efforts are completely unneeded. After five years together, Nel should know that you can handle yourself. 

Hell, Jungkook knows that and it’s only been two months. 

You [1:47pm]: yes I know he is, and I already told you he treats me well because he always. Does. Not just in public or under watchful eyes  You [1:48pm]: and since when does my boyfriend of half a decade need your ~princely~ seal approval?

He ignores the small jab. You only ever brought up his title when you were mocking or upset with him. And he knows that in this case it's the latter.

PJK [1:48pm]: Since now PJK [1:49pm]: And it’s not that I don’t trust you at your word, but I usually like to decide for myself

That has you reeling. 

Where does he get the audacity to think he has any say in or about your relationship? Your very solidly built, five years strong, healthy, happy relationship?

Because he’s the Prince? You’re pretty sure you established on day one that you didn’t and still don’t give a fuck about his birthright. 

If he thinks he gets an opinion on any of this he’s got another thing coming the second he asks you anything about Adaline again. 

You’re in the middle of typing out a paragraph explaining all of this when another text comes in.  

PJK [1:49pm]: Because I’ve seen far too many women in love who are blind to certain things PJK [1:50pm]: And far too many hurt in the end because of it. 

You pause. Fingers frozen mid swipe.

Blind to what?

How many women did he know that were in love but missing something about their partner? Surely there couldn't be that many. Right? 

But this was Jungkook you were talking to, he’s lived numerous lifetimes already. That fancy birthright of his you don’t care about having given him far too many life experiences to have at his age. And they’re only going to increase from here.

So instead of hitting send and cursing him out quite spectacularly, you stop and think for a moment. 

What did he see that they didn’t? 

That you might… not?

You’re a decent judge of character if your record tracks. And it does. 

So your curiosity gets the better of you as you delete your rage paragraph and settle for a simple two word question instead. 

You [1:50pm]: Like what?

You can see that he’s typing out a response but the bell on the cafe door rings and you put your phone down. It buzzes with his response a few seconds after. 

You’ll check it later.

Nel takes his seat again, and you notice he has his sandwich, but also that he’s moved his chair and starts sketching from the new position giving him a direct eye line with Jungkook. 

You internally scoff at that. 

Nel has always been protective. But he was raised that way and you don’t mind too much. You don’t expect him to change his core values for you, just like he never expects you to change yours for him, even when a couple of his are just the slightest bit overbearing. 

But that’s part of a relationship. Give and take and compromise. No one person is going to be perfect for another. It’s healthy to have differences. 

That being said, Nel doesn’t change positions for the rest of the hour. Even as Jungkook packs up and leaves, Nel eyeballs him until he’s out of sight. 

That night while Nel is brushing his teeth and you're lying in bed, you check the text from Jungkook. 

PJK [1:51pm]: Like if they’re getting treated the way they should be or if they’re settling for the best they think they can get or for the first guy that showed interest. The one who hasn’t grown up even though time has passed. The one who’s holding her back by not setting her free

You stare at your phone. At the text. At his words. 

And dismiss it. 

You aren’t one of those women. 

You know yourself. 

You know what you deserve and how you should be treated. You didn’t settle, you just happened to find your love at a young age. That’s something special and rare and should be protected. And Nel has most certainly grown up as time passed. 

Jungkook is being ridiculous for absolutely no reason. Surely he’ll have seen that today. Seen how Nel loves you, treats you how you deserve to be treated, holds you up. Supports you. 

You’re confident he’ll be eating his words soon enough.

Finished brushing, Nel comes back to the bedroom and snuggles up behind you and you put down your phone. 

He cuddles you for a minute before placing a kiss at your neck. Then another. And another before he’s mouthing up your neck, and sliding a hand up your thigh and to your waist. It pauses on your stomach with teasing caresses, before dipping lower and lower, beneath the fabric of your sleep shorts, and under the elastic of your underwear. 

A small moan sounds in your throat at the touch. His fingers meeting your folds and the sensitive bundle of nerves at their apex.

You wanted this. 

Need it. 

He’s grown, you think; as a finger slips in you and you gasp at the stretch, legs opening wider for him. A second finger plunges in and you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every thrust. Just like you can feel a bulge forming behind you. 

You know what you deserve; as he uses them to scissor you open, making sure you’re ready. You roll over, now on your back with Nel over you as he pulls your shorts and underwear down to get better access, your own hands removing your shirt.

You’re not settling; as Nel moves down, tongue making a couple swipes at your entrance and you hiss in pleasure before he’s reaching over, grabbing a condom from the nightstand drawer and sliding it on, length hard and dripping at the sight of you bared before him. 

Nel wasn’t the first guy who’d shown interest, just the first you’d said yes to; and he slides in. Both of you moaning at the snug fit.

“Fuck...” he says and you nod, agreeing, before pulling him down into a deep kiss.

He eases into a slow, steady rhythm that has you breathy and his abs tensing. 

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need to erase these past two months without him, and take enough to last for the next two. It’s never enough, but you try. 

“Faster baby,” you beg, “Please…faster.”

Nel isn’t holding you back. Jungkook doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. 

Nel picks up the pace and you start moaning, louder like you know he likes. Likes to hear he’s doing a good job. He’s grabbing your breast and sucking in a nipple, tongue swirling and you're bringing your hips to meet his with every thrust. 

It feels good. It always feels good with Nel. 

He was your first everything. First kiss, first intimate touch, first love. 

Only love.

And he makes you feel good with that love. That touch. His kiss.

He makes you feel safe, inside and out. 

Jungkook can go eat grass. He doesn’t know your relationship. Doesn’t know the first thing about it. 

“There, right there!” you whine as Nel hits your sweet spot once and you arch. He tries again but misses, continuing faster, his peak coming quickly. 

Jungkook can never understand what you two have. What you two have built in these five years. The understanding and security that comes with it. 

He’s being an unrightfully opinionated ass on something he knows nothing about and— 

Fuck! Why are you thinking about Jungkook? You’re having sex with Nel. You shouldn’t be thinking about anything or anyone other than that. 

Than him. 

So why can’t you get what Jungkook said out of your fucking head?

“Ahhh… oh fuck. I’m cumming.” Nel’s hips stutter, his face contorting in pleasure as he releases, filling the condom.

You kiss him passionately to rid yourself of your princely plagued thoughts, the ones filling you with unwanted and unnecessary doubt. You want them gone, gone, gone. Nothing but Nel in their place. 

And you slip an, “I love you,” in between kisses for good measure. 

Jungkook could never understand. 

Nel kisses you back just as hard, dramatically slowing his thrusts, drawing out his high for as long as possible. 

“I love you too.”

Jungkook doesn’t know anything. 

Nel groans into your lips when it becomes too much and pulls out. 

Removing and tying off the condom, Nel goes to the washroom to throw it out and starts the shower he knows you’ll be joining him for when you're done. 

A routine you’re all too familiar with. 

One you created. 

He knows you need a few minutes to get yourself off. 

You’ve never been able to cum from sex with a partner. No matter how hard you tried. No matter what you did. 

Most would think Nel wasn’t a good lover or wasn’t trying enough, but it was through years of constantly trying anything and everything that you learned you just…couldn’t. 

No amount of fingering or oral or penetration from your partner could make you orgasm. 

So Nel knows to wait for you in the shower as you finish yourself off, your own fingers making quick work of it, because you always could for some reason. 

It isn’t your ideal situation, and it isn’t anyone’s fault. But it works. You both get the intimacy you crave and you accepted a long time ago that you were just one of the unlucky few. 

Screams fill Jungkook’s ears as a hand finds his hair and nails rake against his scalp. 

Adaline isn’t a quiet receiver. 

“Ohmygod!” She shouts for the twentieth time. “Yes! There…so goo-oohhhh,” the last syllable turning into a loud moan. 

He’s holding her downwith a forearm by her pelvis, mouth full as he brings out her third orgasm of the night, juices flooding his tongue. 

He’s working out earlier frustrations and proving a point to himself in this fucked up version of self therapy. 

He shouldn’t be. 

But he does.

Has to.

Seeing you today with Cornelius spurred feelings within him that he didn’t know he had. Sure, there were bits and pieces of something stirring he refused to name, but today? 

They were in a whole different ballpark. Different than anything else he’s ever felt before, brewing inside him, bubbling up to the surface even though he’s been trying his best to pop them and shove them down.

Anger? 

Feelings he doesn’t want to have. 

Jealousy? 

Does have. 

Wanting you to look at him the way you look at Nel?

Can’t have. 

Not for… 

He admits he provoked Nel because he could. Dick move, but it was because Jungkook knew just by looking at him that giving you any form of attention would piss him off.  He seemed the type. 

Overly possessive, overprotective. 

Overbearingly so. 

Suffocatingly so. 

Because Nel knows how lucky he is. That you chose him. That you still choose him. 

He knows he has to keep others away. 

Knows he isn’t good enough for you, holds you back. But keeps you anyway.

The selfish prick. 

So Jungkook eyed you up and down, leisurely, and for as long as he wanted. Purely out of the need to prove to himself he was right about his little assessment of your boyfriend. At least that’s what he told himself. 

Was it childish and unnecessary? 

Yes. 

But he was right. And that felt good. 

He could see in your posture and your hushed words you didn’t want Nel’s protection, didn’t need it, and that Nel ignored that wish of yours. Did what he wanted to instead of respecting your ability to make decisions for yourself. Bulldozed your opinions. 

It pissed Jungkook off. 

He’d left a little while after sending you that text to read, but you never did. At least not since the last time he checked. And so he’d made plans with Adaline the second he was out of your earshot. Calling her up and setting a time for what’s currently taking up his primary focus. 

Because even though it was Adaline underneath him, for the very first time, that’s not who he imagined it was. 

Not who he just dragged a fourth orgasm out of with his fingers because he could. 

Because he would. He would be so much better. Give so much more. If only… 

Fuck.

Jungkook stands and drags his cock over Adaline’s entrance, whacking it against her clit a couple times before running the tip through her folds and pushing in. He hisses at the feeling. At who he was sinking into in his head, splayed out in front of him. Skin glistening with sweat mixed with arousal. Mouth open, slack jawed in pleasure. 

Adaline moans loudly and it dissolves his visual. 

His tattooed hand moves to hold her hands above her head, the other silences her mouth. 

“Quiet now,” he whispers, low and deep. A bead of sweat dripping off his brow, hair sticking to his neck and temple.

He intends it to be sexy for her, but in reality, he’s just sick of hearing her. It’s ruining his mental image. Not that she’ll ever know that though. 

To Adaline, this session is all about her and making her feel good. 

But constant screams and loud, pornographic moans aren’t appealing to him in the slightest. They're taking him out of the mood. Making him soft. 

Once or twice when it’s genuine? Sure. But the constant assault she loves to give his eardrums? Not even a little bit.

He sets a fast, rough pace, and Adaline’s eyes roll back in pleasure, screams finally subsiding in white hot bliss, replaced by bitten lips and smothered whimpers.

He is going to prove this point to himself over and over again. All night if he has to. 

And he has to.  

To get whatever it is he’s feeling for you out of his system.

To keep his sanity. 

To forget. 

And while it’s Adaline’s name is on his lips when he cums. 

It’s not the name he repeats in his head like a prayer. 

Chapter Seven: Hard Goodbyes and Favourite Colours

A/N 2: Thanks for waiting for this chapter. I'll try my best to have 7 out as soon as I can get it. I promise.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[sapphicides]

call me crazy or gay but i genuinely think the writers, directors, and hell, even the actors knew what they were doing when it came to how they portrayed shauna and jackie's relationship in the pilot. watching it for the first time, i went in completely blind, with no exposure to the fandom, the ships, or anything beyond the core premise of "a group of teenage girls get stuck in a nightmarish lord of the flies/lost scenario after a plane crash and do crazy shit to survive." i fully anticipated any romance in this show, if at all, to be straight. yet i still saw how they established shauna and jackie and immediately thought "my god, these bitches are gay"

from the very first scene we see of jackie (almost) by herself being her faking an orgasm with jeff, clearly implying that she's disinterested in her own boyfriend, to the very first scene we see of shauna and jackie alone together starting with this rom-com esque image of jackie stepping out of her house while music plays in the background and shauna goes from resting bitch face to all smiles

from the longing stares they give each other in their school gym, to shauna responding to tai's "freeze allie out" proposal simply with, "jackie wouldn't like it"

from the scene of shauna dressing with jackie in her room before the party, her snapping at jackie when she merely suggests that shauna sleep with randy and jackie looking genuinely hurt and apologetic by it, to the infamous party scene where shauna looks on at jackie and jeff longingly– except, she's only really looking at jackie, because the entire shot is framed around jackie. for the majority of that scene, jeff is barely even in frame, a faded blur in the background, until he puts his arms around jackie and physically puts himself in shauna's line of vision

the way she immediately takes a pained sip of her beer after

the way she turns around to randy flirting with her, only to turn away with a look of disgust on her face (just like how jackie looked disgusted during jeff's attempt at getting her off)

the way she can't pull her eyes off jackie even when jeff is dropping them off, even when she knows she's about to fuck her boyfriend once she's gone

the way she says goodbye to jackie, tells her she loves her, and jackie doesn't say it back, so she asks jeff to say it to her when they have sex

the show sets up their dynamic to be one that feels inherently romantic to first-time viewers, only to flip it on its head when its reveled that shauna's true interest is in... jeff. she's really in love with jeff? the guy who's face we see maybe a couple of times total, that jeff? the guy who's basically a background character the entire episode, that jeff? yeah, i don't buy it

you could argue that the show places so much emphasis on jackie because it's trying to convey that the affair is eating away at shauna. to some extent, i agree with this, but i really doubt that it's only this. it would explain shauna's snappy and, at times, cagey behavior around jackie, but it doesn't explain the way that jackie is framed by the camera, music, or even some of the writing choices. whenever we see jackie through shauna's eyes, the camera is always focused directly on her, often times with her face illuminated brighter than anyone else. the music that plays behind her is shauna's kind of music (both supernova by liz phair, which shauna chooses to listen to in her car's tape deck, and miss world by hole, which undeniably fits her grungey music taste). she's joined at the hip with shauna, even in scenes where she's with jeff– seriously, there's only one scene where she's completely alone with jeff without shauna, and it's that one. and the same goes for shauna

for the entirety of the pilot, they are in a constant state of push and pull with each other, almost all of their actions being dependent on one another. jeff feels like a plot device at best, a character designed to come between them and to be thrown away once they realize who each other's real love interest is. even upon several rewatches, it still feels this way. even in the adult timeline, it still feels this way. we barely see adult jeff, but we feel both jackie's literal absence and her metaphorical presence in the form of shauna's collection of porcelain bunnies

there is so much foreshadowing and detail packed into the pilot that i have a really hard believing that this was just an oversight or mishandling of their relationship on the show's part. do i think there's going to be any kind of big love confession from shauna any time soon? no. but do i think they intentionally laid the groundwork for her to realize the feelings she had for jackie at some point? yes, i really do

[grimmweepers]

— ★ 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: after waiting for so long, alhaitham finally loses his virginity to you on his birthday

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: VIRGIN!alhaitham x FEM!reader, established relationship, there is some fluff sprinkled onto all this smut i promise, p0rn with plot, virginity loss (m), slightly more experienced reader, pet names ‘baby’ ‘love’, reader wears a skirt & dress, handjob, masturbation (f), deepthroat, rough fucking, no protection, creampie, cowgirl, might be a little ooc. 5.7k wc (idk what happened) MDNI. 18+ only. | masterlist

𝐚/𝐧: a birthday piece! happy birthday alhaitham! 🎁

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Your boyfriend was a virgin.

And for most people, virginity was often a touchy subject. Still, when you started dating Alhaitham, you weren’t surprised by his indifference towards the topic. He never danced around it or became flustered when the subject of sex came up. During your first conversation about it, he didn’t fidget, didn’t sugarcoat, he simply took a sip of his coffee and stated, “I’ve never had sex before.” Then after finishing his cup, he added, “Not for lack of opportunity. I just never prioritised it.”

There was no shame or awkwardness, just a fact laid bare between you. And, really, why would there be?

Sex wasn’t something he’d avoided out of fear or insecurity. To him, it was nothing but a passing thought. 

At the time, you grazed over his humble boast because, of course, Alhaitham had opportunities. He was, by all objective measures, incredibly handsome and you told him this very often as his girlfriend.

The scribe might’ve been notorious for being difficult to converse with but people were still drawn to his appearance, whether he wanted them to be or not. 

That conversation weighed more to you now. Not because of what he said but because of what it implied. Despite the passing interest others had in him and the potential experiences he could have had, he had waited. Not intentionally nor with some frivolous romantic ideal in mind, but simply because no one before you had ever made him want to.

As your relationship progressed, you discovered that contrary to popular belief, Alhaitham was still human (really, it’s a shock to some) and like any other human, he had needs that were managed with usual discretion (his hands). So while he had no qualms admitting he was a virgin, he also never pretended to be entirely unaffected by the curse of morning wood or the challenge of dating someone who was totally his type and much more vivacious than he. 

But when you turned him on (which wasn’t difficult), no matter how heated things got, they never went past a certain point. It wasn’t hesitation on his part, nor was it uncertainty on yours. 

It might’ve been because he’d never done it before, or maybe because it felt too significant to rush into. Either way, whenever things teetered on the edge of no return, one of you would always pull back. Every time it happened, it left you a little more restless than before.

It had started slow, as most things did.

Your first kiss with Alhaitham had been more curious than anything else. He always paid attention to detail so he was careful in how he studied you. The more he kissed you, the more he adjusted to the newness of it. You could even taste the hesitance on him but that had been months ago. Now, he’d memorise the way the shape of your lips fit against his, and kissing him felt as natural as breathing.

In the beginning, your make-out sessions had been tame. Nothing more than lazy, unhurried exchanges between reading breaks or in the fleeting moments before you parted from him. Uncaring for any responsibility he had prior, he would hold you close in his burly arms and take you in.

However, in time, those kisses evolved into something you had to be broken apart from.

His hands had also grown bolder. They would slide up your sides, paw at the curve of your spine, and settle on your hips to pull you closer. He noted the way you reacted to him—the way you tossed your head back when his fingers mapped your sensitive skin, the way your grip made home in his hair when his tongue delved deeper.

And you learned things about him, too.

You learned that even though the Alhaitham you first met had an air of mystery to him, there was something far more desperate laying dormant beneath that imaginary veil… lest his control slip. If you sucked on his lower lip, a groan would softly erupt from his mouth. If you allowed him to bury his face into the crook of your neck, the love bites he’d give you would feel much more erotic.

Then his touches became scandalous over time. Alhaitham seemed to explore you more. 

He started to kiss—no, lick along your jaw, then down your neck, sucking lightly at your pulse just to hear your breath stuttering. His hands, no longer satisfied with resting at your waist, began to push under your shirt time and time again, ghosting over your ribs, tracing the dip of your back, just to gauge a reaction to his touch.

Your body continued to hum with need long after you had settled on opposite sides of the sofa, swollen lips and skin warm.

Each encounter left you both embarrassingly sticky by the end of it so you never bothered to admit you’d touched yourself to the thought of him long after he’d gone home. And neither did he.

An invisible string was about to snap, and the most recent time was the hardest to walk away from.

On that particular day, while you were nestled on his lap, Alhaitham had been kissing you with extra urgency—as if the taste of you wasn’t enough and every movement of your lips was drawing him into a slow-burning fire.

Each kiss was another spark, every touch a flicker of heat that spread and throbbed in the most wicked parts of you.

His hands traveled all over you, fingers that normally stayed at your ribs and waist started drifting lower so you sluggishly rolled your hips to match his rhythm, losing it at how hard he was growing beneath you. 

Maybe it was because you’d worn a skirt that day but you felt closer to him than ever. Having your legs sprawled across his lap and feeling what you assumed was the head of his cock prod your sweet spot made your body scream even more for him. So it didn’t help your case at all when he suddenly stilled his fingers under your skirt and gingerly kneaded the back of your clothed pussy. The touch was petal soft but enough to make you whine without permission.

“Holy shit,” your words came out in plumes. 

You half-expected it to escalate then but instead, he pulled away. A familiar pang settled in your chest. He didn’t do it out of regret—you knew that much, but all that racing intention now became idly slow. 

“I’m sorry,” he said a little too quickly, it almost sounded awkward but you were too busy trying to figure out what he was apologising for. It wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong. 

“For what exactly?” You asked.

Alhaitham took a moment to think. 

“For not having more restraint,” his glossy eyes searched you, uncertain of what he wanted. “That felt impulsive.” 

It was unintentional but you’d never seen him look so innocent. Or vulnerable. 

Tilting your head, you said with a chuckle, “If I’m ever caught complaining about my boyfriend not being able to keep his hands off me, alert the authorities because that’s not me.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” 

None of this was your fault either, of course. Stopping was as much of a crime to him as it was to you, but he quietly returned your laughter, and timidly squeezed your hips as if to ground himself. “I just don’t want this to be something that happened because we couldn’t control ourselves.” 

In other words, he wanted something planned. Maybe he had envisioned it unfolding differently.

Which was reasonable, you thought. It was his first time, not yours. And it wasn’t discouraging at all—that solid bulge pressing between your legs revealed enough about the effect you had on him. No part of him didn’t want to flip you over and fuck you senseless on that sofa but perhaps an impulsive make-out shouldn’t steer the wheel for something he held off for so long.

So despite how badly you wanted him, you stopped. You waited. You told yourself the anticipation was half the fun. “You’re right. You’re right. Must you always be right?”

“Just a gift bestowed from the Archon.” Sarcasm, even when all the blood that should’ve been in his head had rushed to his cock. He watched you sigh, “It seems you don’t agree?”

“Well if say I don’t, you could always ravish me until I do.” You smiled from ear to ear, satisfied when a pale shade of pink immediately dusted his cheeks.  

“Stop that.” 

Alhiatham was thankful when you rolled off his lap and collapsed beside him with a buoyant giggle.

Even then, he already missed the weight of you on his groin and the phantom tingle from when he allowed himself to touch you over your underwear was still fresh on his fingers. He didn’t dare look at you right away, afraid that one glance at your pretty face, kiss-swollen lips, and the tremble in your thighs would set his skin alight all over again.

— — —

Remnants of Alhaitham’s birthday were scattered around your home. Half-finished slices of cake on abandoned plates. Few too many empty glasses littering the coffee table. The lingering scent of candles recently blown out.

Looking at the mess, you felt a wave of gratitude that the last batch of your friends had already come and gone. 

Honestly, it was a good thing he chose to celebrate at your place. If he’d done it at his, there would’ve been an inevitable crowd, and he and Kaveh would’ve probably found themselves locked in some debate over something trivial like the spelling of a single word. The only thing to break it up would be the arrival of dawn.

Here, it was just the two of you. While you’d both enjoyed the company earlier, ending the night like this felt right.

As the street lamps outside flickered on to welcome the evening, Alhaitham lounged beside you. This was the most relaxed he’d looked all day, with one arm draped lazily over the back of the sofa, and the other resting on his thigh with a new tome balanced loosely between his fingers. The dim light softened the sharp lines of his face, making him appear boyish as his sea-green eyes read the pages.

But he wasn’t really reading.

It was obvious by how his eyes were fixed on the same spot. His pupils were slightly dilated and maybe he had the wine to blame. Or something else altogether. 

You finally broke the silence, leaning on the armrest to reach for your own glass. “It’s still your birthday, you know?”

Alhaitham returned his attention to you, closing the tome you bought for him without marking his place. “Is there a statute of limitations on celebrating?” 

Huffing a laugh, “Not exactly,” you said, swirling the wine in your glass before taking a sip. “But I’ve been thinking about your birthday gift.”

“Hm?” He replied, slightly confused. He’d thought you’d already given him everything earlier in the day.

“Just wondering if there’s anything else you might want,” you set your glass down and watched the dark liquid ripple. This was the perfect opportunity to bring up what had been on both of your minds.

“Oh?” He blinked at you. “Well, this book you sought was quite a rare find, I’m aware there are only two other copies. For that alone, I needn’t ask for more.” 

“And if I told you that was only the appetiser?” 

Alhaitham adamantly shook his head, “I’m not following.” 

But you both knew that was false. The entire conversation was laced with implications and this was a Haravatat genius you were speaking to. Nothing needed to be spelled out for him because you saw his throat bob with a subtle swallow. That alone told you he was already waging war with his thoughts. 

Tonight felt different. 

Aside from it being his literal birthday, ever since the morning you’d caught him eyeing your body on numerous counts. 

One instance was when you conveniently sat across from him while your friends mingled, positioned so perfectly that he could see the triangle of underwear between your legs. It left little to the imagination and when images flashed of him running his sticky tongue over your panties—he bit the inside of his cheeks in shame. 

Another time was not too long ago when you adjusted the strap of your dress—he was sitting where he was now and you had noticed his fixation on the exposed skin of your shoulder. When the flimsy strap irritatingly fell again, you pretended not to see him shifting his shorts by the crotch. 

Something other than enticement was festering behind his gaze. It wasn’t out-right staring but you had an inkling you were being carefully watched. 

Maybe assessed was the better word. 

There was only so much pretend-reading he could do before it became obvious that your boyfriend was undressing you in his mind and using his tome as a silly cover. All of that told you he was ready. 

He just needed a little nudge. A precious courtesy. 

“Haitham, you’ve been thinking about it. Haven’t you?” 

Alhaitham’s lips parted like he was about to deny it. But he didn’t. He wasn’t even sure he could. Between a sigh and a too-long pause, you were surprised when he admitted, “Of course I have. I’m not immune to… well, you.” 

An intentional smile formed at the drop of that last word and your cheeks immediately grew hot. “You look beautiful,” he continued, but then his tone dipped into something far more audacious. “I might be convinced you were trying to steal my thunder today.” 

The sincerity behind his delivery of it made your heart pound like a drumline beneath your ribs. 

When you dared slip your hand to his knee, his muscles reflexively twitched. He didn’t try to stop you as you slowly traced the outline of his leg. 

“That honesty is going to get you in a lot of trouble, birthday boy.”  

“Trouble?” He said with a knowing smirk. “I think I’m already in enough trouble for tonight, don’t you?” You let him take your wrist to his mouth and he suckled above your pulse, soft and slow.

Goosebumps danced across your arm before you stood up.

Alhaitham tracked every step you made and his burning hands instinctively moved to your waist when you stopped between his legs. As you leaned down, he almost shut his eyes, expecting a kiss. “What do you mean? I’m terribly innocent.”

The heat of his touch seared through your dress and you didn’t falter when he started bunching up the fabric. 

Alhaitham, he was different. 

Unlike the temporary touches of almost-lovers, every place his hands explored left a trail of fire in their wake. He always held you like the space between you was something he could not tolerate. Everything had to be met. Tongue. Hands. Body. Mind. 

Alhaitham loved you. Deeply. Utterly. In ways that contradicted his nature. It was neither measured nor composed, only barbaric and all-encompassing. 

And credit must be due to you for being the most patient person in the world.

“So,” you said quietly, brushing away those unruly greys that tickled his forehead. “Do you feel like this time is rushed?”

His long fingers tightened around you, answering your question before he spoke. Whatever hesitation he felt had apparently already passed. “No, this is perfect.” 

As he looked up at you through those curtain of long lashes, an indulgent question had accidentally slipped out of your mouth: “How often do you picture yourself having your way with me?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. Clearly defeated by your feathery voice, he exhaled through his nose, almost jaded, “Constantly."

For some reason, you were still caught by surprise. Even if it lasted for a sliver of a second, when his admiration for you was too good to be true, sometimes you thought it all a farce. But you were wrong.

"In fact, I’m thinking about it right now," he continued.

Without needing any more reassurance than that, you closed the distance. “Do you mind?” You asked over his lips. 

“Not at all,” he said like he was granting you a wish. 

One tender kiss bled into another, then another, until his tongue started rolling over yours, swallowing your gasps in between. Then it turned into something wet and visceral. Your body wilted each time they collided but when his teeth sunk into your bottom lip, a riot of sensations gathered between your thighs. 

Fuck, you swore internally. 

Alhaitham may be a virgin but he sure didn’t kiss like one.

Still standing, you snaked your arms around his neck and combed at the ends of his hair. No matter how often you’d done this, the sound of his grunts always drowned out the rest of the world. 

Your lips broke apart for only a moment when you were forced to find air. There were too many annoying layers between the two of you so the cycle of kissing and never crossing that line was forever broken when you pulled on his shirt, “Take this off.” 

Letting you go, even for a second, was unbearable so when he lifted his arms to rid himself of the barrier, he greedily chased another kiss. The fabric dragged over his torso, revealing inch by inch of warm, silky skin stretched taut over muscle, and as soon as the shirt was gone, you traced the broad plane of his chest. 

From this view, you wonder if he was thinking about how many times he had imagined this moment. How many nights he had stared at the ceiling, picturing your hands on him just like this? 

“Nervous?” You asked, following your palm over the firm ridges of his abdomen as you connected lips again, pecking them softly this time like a butterfly kissing the edge of a blooming flower.

“Impossible,” Alhaitham relaxed his shoulders and pulled blindly at your waist. You looked so pretty—if anything, he was excited to fuck you. “I’m in good hands.”

Your lips trailed downward, over his jaw, his throat, ghosting his uncharted collarbones before moving even lower. Cushions collapsed to the floor as he began to fray beneath you, his body keening toward your open-mouth kisses no matter how much he tried to hold himself together.

“Baby—” he rasped. Your knees wobbled at his sweet call. The quietest groan escaped his mouth and you felt it reverberate against your lips where they hovered just above his navel. His scent was richer here—clean but muskier, and engulfing your senses to the point of dizziness. 

Sinking to your knees, your tongue followed the dark path of hair that disappeared beneath his shorts while your hands nimbly pushed at his growing tent, “—Fuck,” he sighed, screwing his eyes shut.  It pulsed involuntarily against the restraint and already, a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. Your heart was racing, the size of it felt even bigger in your hand. 

You toyed at the waistband, “Haitham, tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

He nodded, slumping back into the sofa. Sure, but he doesn’t think he will. His lack of words made you wonder if he’d actually heard you. 

You palmed his bulge one last time before pulling everything down and immediately, his cock sprung against his stomach, giving it a good slapping sound while you ogled at the sheer size. And weight. 

It was so much prettier than you’d imagine—not too veiny, plump and pink at the tip, slightly curved, and already glistening with precum under the hues of evening light. A handful of beauty marks dotted the underside of his shaft which would only help you out in the future when you had to decide which parts of him you wanted to kiss first. It might’ve been the prettiest thing you’d ever seen. 

Rubbing your thumb over the tip, you peered up at him, and as expected, “Oh…” he rolled his eyes back, lulling himself in the immediate pleasure. At that moment, he knew fucking his fist in the dead of night would never feel the same again. Not when they can be hugged by your soft, velvety hands.

Alhaitham’s body jittered under you with each small stroke along his length. Another fat ball of precum dribbled over your knuckles and made it extra slippery—he was so hard, he could barely look at you through his drowsy eyes. 

“Do you like how this feels, baby?”

His feelings wavered between bucking for more friction or letting you dictate his ruin. “I- ah- love it. Keep going… Please…” Either way, by the time this was over, Alhaitham was going to walk away a new man. 

His cock was so heavy, so wide in your hand that you briefly imagined it training your hole open. You desperately clenched around nothing—suddenly it was your to feel needy and as a result, your strokes became even faster as you thought about him stuffing you with it instead. 

Each languid pump chipped away at his resolve but it was you who was beginning to lose control. Your free hand couldn’t hold still for any longer so they snaked to the throbbing heat that had been building between your legs for too long. The first roll of circles over your clit sent a sharp jolt up your spine. “Mmmm,” you were already so wet, your slick drenched your fingers within seconds.

Alhaitham's thighs twitched at the sound of you. That was a moan. A real fucking moan. A multitude of things could turn him on but watching his girlfriend play with herself and moaning above his cock made him spasm in his spot. He was begging for more, even if he couldn’t form the words. 

“Ahh, Haitham…” you mewled his name softly as you slid two fingers inside your sopping entrance. Without waiting any longer, you spat on the leaking tip as a courtesy warning before taking the entire length in your mouth all at once.

“God…” Alhaitham groaned, drawn out like the sensation alone could tear him apart. He could’ve jumped out of his seat if not for the vice grip he had on the sofa, his knuckles white from holding onto it like a lifeline. The inside of your mouth was so warm, your tongue so blissfully foreign and you felt him stiffen up even more when you sloppily sucked and popped off with a messy slurp. 

“This definitely... isn't your first time,” His voice was rough with lust.

Every tantalising lick was written off as proof of your experience.  

The praise, while indirect, made your cunt clamp around your moving fingers. You hummed, dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock before pulling back with another lewd pop, “No,” you casually admitted, licking a stray tear of precum from your lips. “But it’s my first time taking something so big.” 

“No need to flatter me,” he murmured softly, lifting your dripping chin with a single finger, “You’re already doing enough.”  

But damn, he thought. If that were true, he’d stretch you further than anyone else.

After returning your lips around him, he unexpectedly brought his hand to the back of your head. 

This time, he didn’t want to sit back. “Slowly…” he sucked in a breath. “I… want to try something.” 

Alhaitham apparently grew some confidence of his own which made your fingers work even faster inside yourself. Your lips sank lower and lower. Throat tightening as his thick cock tunneled its way through—

“Mmph—!!” Your sudden yelp was muffled when his mushroom tip nudged the back of your throat. The vibration of it made him buckle his knees beside you. 

Oh, he was weak for you. And he knew it. 

“Ugh— Look at you…” he groaned through gritted teeth. Still, despite the newfound confidence, he was losing the battle fast. He had buckled so hard, he was worried he’d already cum but he was relieved when you gagged and withdrew, leaving only strings of saliva connecting to his fat length. 

That was enough to tell him he couldn’t hold it off anymore. 

Alhaitham could barely think straight. His cock was twitching, aching, still glossy from your mouth, and somehow standing taller than when all of this started. 

“Come here,” he pleaded and now his heart pounded because it was finally happening. 

His eyes were hazy when he hoisted you up, catching you in his lap to taste himself on your tongue. The kiss was feral and teeth-clashing and the curl of your name kept being whispered again and again between breaths. 

His hands wasted no time, sliding down your body, comfortably hiking up your dress while he met his cock with your entrance. Even with your underwear in the way, you felt just how girthy he was and squeezed around the head as much as your flimsy panties allowed. 

“Haitham~” you whimpered, continuing to grind on him. 

Between his own rolling of his hips, he eagerly helped you tug your dress over your head. Then you hurriedly removed your underwear and returned to his lap.

For a brief moment, he just stared. 

His jaw went slack. His chest rose and fell slowly. 

It was a showcase of your bare body, your soft tummy, your sweat-stricken tits, and your exposed pussy. 

Suddenly, you felt shy, but he reached out with surprising gentleness, smoothing his palm over your waist, then up to your chest. 

“I know I keep repeating myself but seriously,” he hushed, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, making you shiver. “You’re beautiful.” 

He looked at you like you were something divine and overcome, your lips crashed against his.

A guttural sound escaped his throat as he kissed you back with just as much hunger.

 “I love you,” you whispered to him. Another twist of your tongue. I love you. Another hand tangled in his hair. I love you. Another peek at your loving boyfriend, eyes shut and kissing you so tenderly like it’s the only thing he knew. I love you. 

His hand slipped between your legs, fingers parting the opening where you were dripping for him. If you hadn’t known him at all, you would’ve never guessed this was his first time. Perhaps preparing for this really paid off in the end. 

Your legs trembled around his hand, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. The need clawed at you.

His hand gripped your putty thighs, forcing them open as he stared at the pretty mess. 

Alhaitham flicked his gaze back to yours, “I love you, too,” his voice was hoarse. “And I need to be inside you.” It was then you understood why puppy eyes worked on people. No argument could ever shield him away when he pleaded for you like that. It would be like kicking a puppy in the most literal sense.

You gave him a nod of approval. It’s okay. 

He exhaled as he positioned himself. The downright weight of it jerking against your clit made you whimper. You couldn’t help but rock into it, circling his shaft with your juices while he was on the cusp of shattering. 

Finally, he lined the swollen head at your entrance and a sharp gasp left you as he slowly pushed in, stretching you apart like all those times you fantasised in the privacy of your bedroom but this was much, much better. 

Inch by inch, your walls latched onto him and—

“Shit—” Alhaitham cursed under his breath. 

Nothing has ever felt so warm or soft. Or all-consuming. His entire vision was a blur. There was no doubt he was already painting a clear, sticky mess on your walls. 

Your nails sank into his meaty arms, his name tumbled from your lips as he gradually slotted himself completely inside you. His groan was so deep and wrecked, that it made you tremble around him even more. 

Your legs tightened at his side, urging him deeper. “T-Thoughts?” You asked, barely. It remained a mystery how you stayed teasing even as pleasure threatened to steal your words away. 

“You’re so… tight,” he managed to breathe, thrusting up experimentally. His head dropped to your shoulder as he relished in the wet heat of you wrapped around him. “Better than my hands."

"Better than I ever imagined, actually." A strained chuckle left him, “And I imagined a lot.” 

Another slow thrust. His fingers embedded themselves around your waist, possessive, obsessive, and he buried his face in your neck, breathing you in.

You smiled even though you knew he couldn’t see, “You don’t have to hold back.” 

Your cute encouragement made him snap.

He lifted you slightly before slamming you down on his hips, plunging as far as he could. Right as he did, you arched your back and struggled to find your bearings. The sound of your jutted cries echoed freely in the living room, only for it to be swallowed by his muttering against your skin—

“You’re perfect.” 

A deep thrust, much harder this time. 

“I can’t believe you’re mine.” 

His teeth scraped against your neck. 

And then he really started fucking you. 

Every bounce punctured all the right spots and you could only whine while rivers of sweat glued your bodies together. You tried to keep up with him but he was so fervent with his hips, your mind went cloudy. 

More often than not, you tend to forget how strong your boyfriend was but you’ll never need a reminder after this. Not with how easily his large hands guided you up and down his throbbing cock. You were helpless against the feverish way he moved you. 

Plap. Plap. Plap. Each wet slap of your fleshy ass against his thighs sent a violent shudder through him, decorating his skin with flushed, red marks where you landed. 

Who knew Alhaitham could be so obscene and filthy?

“I can see why—people—enjoy this,” was all he could muster you as deliciously gripped him. Every word punched out of him from the force of your tight cunt. 

However, as good as it felt, most of his enjoyment came from looking at you. 

“Mhm…!” you babbled, brain foggy and hands abandoning his shoulders to roll your sensitive nipples between your fingers, twisting and tugging and arching your back so your tits were right in his face. “But are you—?” You tried to ask between ragged moans but he cut you off with a snap of his hips.

He’d never seen you in such a messy state, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He was nearly offended at the implication that he wasn’t. How could he not be? He was buried to the hilt and drinking in every filthy little sound that spilled from your lips.

He wanted to engrave the image of this memory into his mind forever.

The creak of the sofa legs as they scraped back and forth on your floor; the squelch of your soaking pussy; your arousal smearing the base of his shaft, running down his legs with every feverish roll. 

Even like this, even while he was losing every last shred of innocence, his mind was already latching onto something else—

“I’m already looking forward to doing this again…” 

Alhaitham, who fucking loved you, was also going to love fucking you. 

Oh, and the toe-curling sensation of his balls smacking the back of your pussy intensified. 

For each erratic push, your battered clit rubbed even more against his pubic bone. Your eyes were starting to drop and your voice only came in erotic moans. “Baby, please…” You’ve adjusted to the stretch by now but you’ll never get used to how you can feel every curve or ridge mind-meltingly dragging inside you. “Don’t stop—”

He wishes he could just record the way you coo at him like that, because your honeyed tone damn near made him bust on the spot. 

“F-Fuckk-Ngh… Love, I’m close,” he groaned, forehead falling against yours as his hips stuttered. His hungry, feral eyes—wild, desperate, blown back with lust, searched yours, now certain of what he wanted.

“Inside,” you panted, cradling the back of his head with your arms. “I bought a contraceptive tonic… You can cum inside.” 

Alhaitham froze, for just a second. 

But with your permission, he lost whatever fragile thread of control he had left. Using the last of his strength, he clumsily wrapped himself around your waist and attacked your g-spot over and over. 

“Quickly,” you urged him, “Because I’m gonna—!” A feeling in your stomach coiled before you could finish your sentence. With his hips rolling at an angle, everything you were holding together finally broke apart. Your ears abruptly rang and your vision went entirely white, as if months’ worth of pent-up energy was gushing out of you.

You pushed through the untangling in your gut, feeling everything all at once as your orgasm obliterated your senses. The downpour left you mewling, writhing, and spasming around him like a tightening knot. You've cummed to the thought of him but you always felt like something was missing.

Nothing but desperate moaning and the crying of his name met his ears while you blissfully rode him out.

A harsh thrust later did it for him, too.

His merciless rhythm shattered as he rutted inside one last time, a guttural groan ripping from his throat like all the air was being punched from his lungs. “Hah—I’m cumming!” His cock pulsed violently as he came, hot ropes of ivory spilling deep inside you, with him losing focus after each shudder of his hips. 

So much of it was already oozing out of you despite how tight you still were and you saw the ruin it brought on him. He was beautiful with his brows pinched tight and strands of damp silver sticking to his forehead. Every flex of his toned arms and chest showcased the primal strength beneath his elegance.

Alhaitham whimpered—it was barely audible as slumped against your chest. He clung to you, panting, hot breath fanning your shoulder as he pumped out the last tremors of his release. His balls tightened for the final time as they emptied inside you.

Neither of you moved. Just sticky heat, layers upon layers of sweat, and the aftershocks pulsing through your trembling bodies.

Then, slowly, his hands fell to his sides.

“…That was…” he started, feeling like his mind was still trying to piece itself together. His body practically surrendered against the sofa.

You swiped a thumb over his jaw, smiling. “Yeah.”

A beat passed.

When Alhaitham lifted his head, blinking at you, completely softened by the afterglow, it hit you.

Your boyfriend wasn’t a virgin anymore.

© 2025 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform.

divider: @/adornedwithlight

[pumpkinbirth]

🤰🍼2️⃣🛒🩲🛑🧍⌛️🧠

I tugged down the hem of my shirt once more, groaning internally at the line that stretched out before me. The store was fully packed, yet there was only one underpaid cashier to handle all of it. Part of me debated calling it quits and just heading home, but seeing as this was the last errand I had to run, I figured I might as well stick it out.

That was proving to be easier said than done, though.

"O-ohhh..." I leaned against the handlebar of my full cart as I exhaled slowly through my nose. Again, I readjusted the hem of my shirt, the compression material doing little to obscure just how much weight I'd put on over the past few months. I couldn't help but feel self conscious about it, especially when it seemed to attract more attention than I cared for.

As if that wasn't bad enough, both my bloated stomach and my back had been killing me all morning, to the point where I'd had to stop several times while shopping just to wait out the cramps. My hands grasped the handlebar of the cart until my knuckles turned white, and it took everything I had not to make a sound.

Just gotta make it through the line and--wait, what was...?

I felt the color drain from my face as I felt a sudden warmth spreading from my crotch, an involuntary shiver running through me as I felt liquid seeping down my thighs. "Fuck," I swore under my breath, nervously glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was behind me to see. Luckily, I was the last person in line for the time being. My rational mind screamed at me to just go, just ditch the cart and tend to my weird accident away from others. But the line was finally moving a bit, and against my better judgement I stayed, hoping that my leggings would just absorb the worst of it and no one would have to know.

I didn't have long to think about it when another cramp decided to make itself known, and I could feel my stomach tensing bizarrely from the internal pressure. As I ran a sweaty palm down the front of my taut stomach, I tried to focus on breathing through it. This went on for several of the longest minutes of my life, and my only reward for my silent suffering was moving another few feet closer to the register. As I took another step forward, another pain lanced through my abdomen, and my knees nearly buckled. For a fleeting second, I envisioned dropping into a squat, freeing my swollen belly from the confines of my clothing and--

I shook my head aggressively, banishing the strange thought as soon as it had come. Still, that odd urge remained in the back of my head, and it only got stronger with each new burst of discomfort. By the time I was four carts away from the register, I could barely think clearly through the sensation of something shifting inside of me, an otherworldly pressure just behind the lips of my cunt, and my thighs trembled as I stood with my feet slightly apart. Before I could stop myself, my body seemed to act of its own accord, and I hurriedly bit back a whimper as I felt myself bear down.

My eyes widened as I felt it then, felt something beginning to emerge from me. My grip on the cart tightened as my breath came in shallow gasps, and I could feel the fabric of my leggings beginning to bow outwards as my traitorous muscles worked to push something out of me. One of my hands moved down to try and stop whatever it was, but it was a moment too late, and a guttural moan escaped my throat as I felt something large slip into my now ruined leggings with another burst of fluid.

By now, the sight and sound of me had caught the attention of the other shoppers, but I couldn't even think about them right now. My hands shook as I struggled to pull my soaked leggings and panties down, and I let out a choked sound of disbelief as I retrieved a wailing baby from my ruined clothes. My mind raced with the revelation that not only had I apparently been pregnant this entire time, but I'd just given birth into my clothing a crowded store.

Before I could even think of what to say or do, a dreadfully familiar pain lanced through me again, and my eyes darted down to my belly, still straining against the fabric of my shirt. Again, that urge from before hit me, and this time I didn't resist, couldn't resist. Among the worried voices of the people around me and the cries of my surprise baby, I braced myself against my cart once more and pushed hard.

Please, I thought deliriously as I felt another baby beginning to crown, please let this be the last one...

[the-winter-spider]

The Alchemy | Part 5

NFL!Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 5k

Warning: Angst, toxic relationship, manipulation

A/N: Im sorry in trying my best, mental health is just a bitch. Once again i dont know shit about football or the NFL LOL I'm an NHL girly but here we are so if i get terms and shit wrong its ok cuz its a fan fic 🤣🤣

Masterpost

----

The party was in full swing by the time you and Bucky arrived—packed with sweaty, overhyped teenagers celebrating the team’s win, red plastic cups littering every surface, the air thick with cheap beer and bad decisions. Someone had strung up white Christmas lights around the backyard, giving the whole place a soft glow, but it did nothing to cut through the chaos.

You weren’t even sure who actually lived here, just that it was a senior with rich parents who conveniently weren’t home, and that half the damn school had shown up to celebrate.

The music pulsed through your chest, bass-heavy and a little too loud, but it didn’t matter. Because Bucky was there, pressed close as he navigated you through the swarm of people like he always did, one hand grazing the small of your back, the other lifting in a lazy wave whenever a teammate shouted his name.

“Stay put,” he murmured near your ear once you’d finally managed to carve out a small space near the bonfire. “I’ll grab us a drink.”

You nodded, watching as he disappeared into the crowd.

The night was warm, the heat of the fire licking at your skin. You weren’t fully relaxed, there was something about nights like these, about parties, about being surrounded by people who were too drunk to notice if something went wrong, but Bucky made it better. He always did.

A few minutes later, he returned, grinning as he held out a red cup. “Here, got you something good.”

The second you caught the scent, rich, smoky, unmistakable—your stomach twisted.

Whiskey.

The smell hit you like a punch to the gut, sharp and suffocating, dragging you back to memories you wanted buried. The way the bottle slammed onto the counter. The way his words slurred together, thick with anger. The way your mother sat frozen at the table, staring at the wall, waiting for it to pass.

Your fingers curled into your palm. “I—I can’t drink that.”

Bucky frowned, holding it out a little more. “What? Since when does my girl turn down a drink?”

Your throat tightened. “Just… not whiskey.”

He opened his mouth, probably to make some joke about you being picky but then, you saw it. The exact second he realized.

His entire body stiffened, his eyes widening just slightly before flickering with something heavy. His grip on the cup faltered. “Oh, fuck.” His voice was barely above a whisper, rough with something close to regret. “Shit, I—I’m sorry.”

You shook your head quickly, forcing a small, tight smile. “Bucky, it’s not a big deal.”

“The hell it’s not,” he muttered, setting the cup down so fast it nearly toppled over. “Stay here, I’ll be right back….again.”

You watched as he vanished again, weaving back through the house, his shoulders tense.

For some reason, your chest ached.

You hadn’t expected him to care so much. It was just a drink. Just a stupid drink at a stupid party. But Bucky had looked at you like he’d failed you somehow..

When he returned, he had two cold beers in his hands. He pressed one into yours before cracking open his own, exhaling sharply like he was only just allowing himself to relax.

“I feel like an idiot,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I should’ve remembered.”

“Bucky, it’s an insignificant thing, it’s really not—”

He cut you off before you could downplay it again. “Nothing about you is insignificant, okay? Nothing.” His blue eyes burned with sincerity, sharp and unshakable. “The stuff that matters to you? It matters to me too. And I’m sorry I forgot.”

Your heart squeezed.

You weren’t used to people treating you like this—like your pain was valid, like your boundaries mattered, like your past wasn’t something to be brushed aside.

But Bucky always had.

He always would. You’re sure of it.

You swallowed hard, a small, grateful smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you,” you murmured. “For always being there for me.”

“Always” He whispered, a slight crack in his voice.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The chaos of the party faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in the flickering firelight, beer bottles hanging loosely in your hands.

He was close..so close, the space between you shrinking with every unspoken word. His gaze flickered to your lips, just for a second, before his tongue darted out to wet his own.

Your pulse hammered. Finally, you thought.

And then…

“BUCKY, MY MAN!”

The moment shattered.

A loud, drunken whoop cut through the night, and then, suddenly, the entire football team was descending on him, dragging him into their celebration, slapping his back, shoving beer into his free hand.

You took a step back, your breath still caught in your throat.

Bucky’s eyes snapped to yours, something like frustration flashing across his face, like he knew what had almost happened, what finally, almost happened, like he wanted to go back but then someone was lifting him onto their shoulders, chanting his name, and he was forced to tear his gaze away.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

You let out a quiet breath, tilting your beer back and swallowing the lump in your throat.

Maybe it was for the best.

Maybe it was a sign you were meant to just be friends. To always be just friends.

-----

The hallway outside your hotel room was quiet, save for the occasional distant voices of players passing through, all heading somewhere to celebrate the win. You stood there, arms wrapped around yourself, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you waited for John. The nerves sitting heavy in your stomach weren’t from excitement—weren’t from the anticipation of a night out, a rare moment to unwind after the intensity of the season’s start. No, this feeling was something else.

You knew what kind of night this would be before it even started. Because you knew John, and the thought of Bucky and him at the same table left you anxious.

John was already running late, and you were left alone with your thoughts, the seconds stretching into minutes, making you hyper-aware of everything—the way your dress felt too tight around your ribs, the way your pulse thrummed a little too fast.

Then, a voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“You okay?”

You turned slightly to see Bucky standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, his expression unreadable.

You nodded quickly, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just waiting on John.”

His eyes flickered with something, something you couldn’t quite place. He didn’t say anything right away, just studied you for a moment longer. And for a second, you wondered if he could see it, the way your hands clenched the fabric of your dress at your sides, the way your shoulders were drawn just a little too tight. He use to be able to.

But before either of you could say anything more, the hotel door swung open behind you.

John stepped out, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket, his phone in one hand. He barely spared you a glance before looking past you to Bucky.

“Barnes,” he said smoothly.

Bucky gave him a nod, expression still unreadable. “Walker.”

John’s hand found the small of your back, the touch firm, more like a warning than anything else. “We’ll see you guys there,” he said, already steering you down the hallway.

Bucky didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. You could feel his eyes on you, lingering even as you walked away.

The ride to the restaurant was silent at first, the only sound coming from the hum of the engine and the occasional ding of John’s phone as he scrolled through messages. You kept your hands clasped in your lap, your fingers digging into your palm to keep them steady.

Then, he spoke.

“Do not embarrass me tonight.”

You blinked, your breath catching slightly. “What?”

John didn’t look up from his phone. “These guys? They’re not just players. They have influence. And if you make me look bad in front of them—” He finally turned his gaze on you, a tight smile pulling at his lips. “Well, let’s not make this difficult, okay?”

You nodded automatically, your throat tightening.

He sighed, shaking his head as he leaned back against the seat. “Just smile, laugh at my jokes. And don’t go on and on about your stupid media stuff, alright? Trust me they don’t give a shit, they’re just playing nice because you used to be friends with Barnes.”

Used to

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look out the window as the city lights blurred past.

It was funny, in a cruel sort of way. You were finally in a place where you felt like you belonged, like you were good at something, and yet John had a way of making it feel so…insignificant. Like you were just playing pretend. And you knew he was right, they were some of the best players in the league getting paid millions of dollars. Why the hell would they care about you and your stupid job that you apparently didn't even earn on your own. And Bucky… well you didn’t even wanna get started on that because you knew deep down you weren't good enough for him then you certainly not good enough for him now. Friends or not.

By the time you pulled up to the restaurant, the unease had settled deep in your chest.

The restaurant hummed with warm, low chatter, the golden glow of the dimmed lights casting soft shadows against the walls. The air still carried the lingering buzz of victory, the easy energy of a team celebrating a job well done. The conversation around the table flowed effortlessly—teammates recounting plays, exchanging banter, trading inside jokes.

You sat between John and Sam, fingers curled around the napkin in your lap, trying to keep yourself grounded. Across from you, Bucky sat quietly, his beer untouched in front of him, blue eyes scanning the table. He wasn’t withdrawn, exactly, but he was watching. Observing.

John, on the other hand, was in his element. Effortlessly inserting himself into conversations, charming everyone around him, laughing at just the right moments. It was all so natural, so perfectly performed, and it made your stomach churn.

The waiter arrived, taking orders, and when he got to you, John barely hesitated before speaking.

“She’ll have an Old Fashioned,” he said smoothly, handing the menu back without looking at you.

You stiffened.

You hated Old Fashioneds. You hated Whiskey, its what your Dad use to drink.

It was such a small thing. Such a stupid, insignificant thing. But the way he did it, so carelessly, so decisively, without even glancing at you, made something burn in your chest.

For a second, you thought about correcting him. Thought about forcing your voice through the thick silence building in your throat. But before you could, his hand slid onto your thigh under the table, fingers pressing firm. Not quite enough to hurt. Just enough to remind you.

You stayed quiet.

When your gaze lifted, Bucky was already watching.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. But the look in his eyes made your skin feel too tight, like he saw right through you. Like he was remembering something.

And maybe he was.

The moment passed, lost in the clatter of silverware, in the swell of voices as the team kept talking.

“So, John,” Steve said, glancing at him. “What do you do?”

John leaned back slightly, his arm still draped over the back of your chair like he belonged there. “I do some PR work behind the scenes,” he said easily. “NFL branding initiatives, helping coordinate events, stuff like that.”

Helping coordinate events. That was generous. You knew damn well he barely lifted a finger. He had a title, sure—something vague that let him slip into rooms he didn’t belong in—but his name, his father, were what carried the real weight.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “And your dad? He’s still high up in the league, right?”

John grinned. “Oh yeah. He’s got his hands in just about everything. Any major decision in the league, you can bet he’s a part of it.”

Sam let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Damn. No wonder you’re so connected.”

John just laughed. “Exactly. Connections are everything in this business. It’s all about who you know.”

He said it so smoothly, like it was just an offhand comment, like it wasn’t meant to cut. But then—

“That’s actually how Y/N got this job, you know.”

Your stomach dropped.

He said it like it was nothing. Like it was casual. Like it wasn’t a grenade he’d just thrown into the middle of the table.

John chuckled, nudging your side. “She’s so damn stubborn—wanted to do everything on her own. Thought she could earn it on her own. But hey, I put in a good word, made sure the right people saw her résumé.”

Silence.

You thought you might be sick.

With the boys that heard, with Bucky thinking you didn’t earn this job, didn’t deserve this job. You felt small, embarrassed. You felt all the colour drain from your face as you took in a sharp inhale.

And from the way Bucky’s jaw tensed slightly, from the way his fingers curled around his beer glass, you knew he was biting back from saying something.

The noise of the restaurant pressed in around you, but everything felt muted, far away. Your hands clenched in your lap, nails digging into your palms as you stared at the flickering candle in the center of the table, trying to keep your face neutral.

Then—

“Doesn’t matter how she got the job,” Sam said suddenly, his voice easy but firm. “Girl’s talented as hell. Deserves it.”

You looked up, surprised.

He was grinning at you, all warmth and confidence, like he hadn’t just rescued you from drowning. And you couldn’t help it—you smiled back, your chest loosening just a little.

But the moment was short-lived. It always was.

John’s hand tightened around your thigh in a sharp, quick squeeze. Not enough to draw attention. Just enough for you to feel it.

“Of course, my girl deserves the world,” he said smoothly, giving you a kiss on the temple before sitting back like he hadn’t just staked a claim.

Bucky was still watching.

Still quiet.

And then John, ever the performer, turned back to the conversation with a smirk. “So, Barnes,” he started, picking up his beer. “You knew Y/N back in what was it again? High school, huh?”

“Our whole childhood.” Bucky’s gaze flicked from you to John, his face unreadable. “But yeah.”

John laughed, shaking his head as he gave you another playful squeeze. “Bet she was a handful back then, huh? Like she is now?”

You forced a small, tight smile, but the grip on your thigh burned.

Bucky didn’t take the bait.

His voice was steady, even, when he finally spoke.

“I could never think that of her.”

The air at the table shifted. It was subtle, but it was there, the tension threading through the conversation like an undercurrent, pulling tighter with every second that passed.

Bucky’s voice was steady, even—but beneath it, there was an unmistakable edge, something sharp and unyielding. His blue eyes never wavered from John’s, locking him in place. And for the first time that night, John hesitated. Just for a second.

You had never seen him hesitate before. It wasn’t in his nature. He was used to having everything handed to him, power, privilege, even respect, whether he earned it or not.

Then, he let out an easy chuckle, leaning back in his chair like he hadn’t noticed the shift in energy. “That so?” He took a slow sip of his beer before glancing at you, his smirk returning. “You must’ve had him wrapped around your finger then, huh?”

Your stomach twisted.

You knew what he was doing. The fake charm, the lighthearted jabs that were never actually lighthearted. The way he was always trying to remind you, to remind everyone, that you were his.

Before you could say anything, Bucky leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table.

“She wasn’t like that,” he said, his voice calm but deliberate. “She didn’t take advantage of people.”

John’s smirk didn’t falter, but you felt his fingers press a little harder against your thigh.

“No?” he said smoothly. “Guess she’s changed, then.”

The words were coated in something...something that made your chest tighten, something that made Bucky’s fingers flex around his glass.

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

Steve cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his seat. Sam, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, glanced between John and Bucky, lips pressing into a thin line. The energy around the table felt like a slow-building storm, quiet but electric.

John exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Relax, Barnes,” he said, his voice light, but the way he said Bucky’s name, like it was a joke, like it was something he didn’t take seriously—made your stomach drop.

Bucky didn’t move, didn’t flinch.

But something in his expression changed.

His blue eyes darkened, his jaw tightening slightly, and you could see the muscle feather under his skin.

It wasn’t that Bucky had a short temper. He didn’t. But there were certain things that got under his skin, certain buttons that could be pushed just enough to break that infamous restraint of his.

And John was pushing them.

Hard.

“I’m relaxed,” Bucky said evenly, voice slow and measured. But the way he was gripping the glass in his hand told you otherwise.

John chuckled again, but it was forced this time.

“You know,” he mused, tilting his head, “I always wondered what it would be like, growing up with her. Bet she was always the center of attention, huh?” His grip on your leg tightened as he glanced at you, his tone deliberately playful but edged with something sharper. “She loves that, doesn’t she?”

It was a test. A warning. A reminder.

And Bucky knew it. You knew it.

His expression didn’t change, but his shoulders tensed just, the way they always did when he was holding himself back.

“She deserves attention,” Bucky said, voice low, the weight of it settling heavily between them. “The right kind.”

The implication was there, clear as day.

John’s fingers twitched against your thigh.

That got John’s attention. John for the first time that night, he finally looked Bucky directly in the eye.

The fake smile was gone.

The air felt thick, suffocating, like something was teetering on the edge of breaking.

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs.

John stared at Bucky for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. Then, just as quickly as it had shifted, he leaned back again, his smirk sliding back into place like nothing had happened.

He let out another laugh, shaking his head. “Man, you must really got it bad, don’t you?”

Bucky didn’t react.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

It was unbearable. You couldn't even hear the chatter from the other side of the table anymore, you couldn't hear the loud music, you could only hear the blood in your ears and the thumping of your heart.

Then, finally, John exhaled, giving your leg one last, sharp squeeze before finally pulling his hand away.

When Bucky didn’t give him a response of any kind he kept going. “Well,” he said smoothly, throwing an arm over your shoulder, “I don’t blame you. She’s something else, huh?”

His lips pressed against your temple, but his grip on your shoulder was firm, and when you instinctively glanced at Bucky again, his jaw was clenched so tightly you thought he might crack a tooth.

The moment hung there, heavy, stretching impossibly long.

The tension at the table was suffocating now, pressing down on you like a weight you couldn’t shake.

You could feel Bucky’s stare—burning, unwavering—but you refused to look back at him. You couldn’t. Because if you did, you weren’t sure what you’d see in his expression.

Anger?

Regret?

Something worse?

John, on the other hand, was thriving in it. You could tell by the way he leaned back casually in his chair, the way he sipped his drink like he wasn’t winding up for another hit.

You were hoping that someone else would say something. Maybe the waiter would come back and interrupt the moment. You were hoping that even maybe Bucky would finally respond and give him what he wants so this could just all stop. But he didn't, so John didn't stop.

And then, just as you feared, he took his shot. He was trying so desperately to get anything out of Bucky.

“You know, Barnes,” John mused, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, “I gotta say, man, I don’t know how you missed out on this.”

Your stomach dropped.

You knew what was coming before he even said it.

John turned his head, his lips grazing your ear as he squeezed your thigh beneath the table. “She looks even better without clothes on,” he said, low enough that only Bucky, and maybe Sam, could hear. “Seriously. Something must be wrong with you.”

A cold chill ran through your spine.

Bucky went completely still. His fingers no longer flexing on the glass.

It felt like the world had stopped moving.

John grinned, leaning back again. “So tell me, Buck—what exactly did you do wrong to never get your shot?” He raised an eyebrow mockingly. “Didn’t have the balls to go for it?”

Sam shifted beside you, his posture stiffening. You weren’t sure if it was because of what John had said or because of the way Bucky was looking at him now, like a predator sizing up its prey. Bucky was letting him dig his own hole and he wanted so badly to bury him in it.

Then John’s smirk widened. He wasn’t done yet. He never was.

“Oh wait,” he said, snapping his fingers in faux realization. “Don’t answer that, you probably think you didn’t do anything wrong, huh? You just—what was it again?” He turned to you, pretending to think. “Oh, right. You completely cut her off when she told you she was moving. How pathetic is that?”

A sharp pain bloomed in your chest.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say a word.

John laughed under his breath, taking another sip of his drink before delivering the final blow.

“And then you never even called her when she lost both her parents,” he added, shaking his head. “Not one but two! Damn, man. I mean, I’d say what kind of friend are you? but…” He shrugged. “You guys aren’t friends anymore, right? You made sure of that.”

Silence.

Pure, deafening silence.

Your heart was in your throat.

John’s words hung in the air like poison, thick and suffocating. The weight of them settled over the table, pressing down like a storm cloud about to break.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

And then—

Bucky finally blinked. He took a sip of his beer.

Slowly, he set his drink down on the table with a deliberate clink.

His knuckles were white against the glass.

His shoulders rose and fell in a slow, measured breath.

But when he lifted his eyes to John, there was nothing playful in them. No amusement. No restraint.

Just ice.

And something dangerous.

Your pulse hammered against your ribs.

John, for the second time that night, hesitated.

It was barely noticeable—a small twitch of his fingers, the slightest flicker of uncertainty behind his smirk.

But Bucky saw it.

You knew Bucky saw it.

And you thought he was going to hit him. That he was going to lunge across the table. A part of you wanted him to.

The tension stretched impossibly thin, so thick it was hard to breathe.

Then..

“Buck,” Steve said, his voice low. A warning.

Bucky didn’t look at him. Didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

He just stared.

And somehow, somehow—that was worse.

Sam exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “Man, you’re really pushing your luck tonight,” he muttered under his breath, reaching for his drink trying to ease the tension.

John chuckled again, but it wasn’t as effortless this time. He clapped a hand on your thigh one more time before finally leaning back, his smirk settling back into place.

His jaw was tight, his grip on his glass even tighter, but his eyes—his eyes—were locked onto John like he was seconds away from standing up and putting him through the damn table.

Your heart pounded so hard it hurt.

You weren’t sure if you were more afraid of what John would say next or what Bucky would do in response. Either way, the air felt charged, volatile, like something was going to snap.

And then, Bucky’s gaze flickered, just for a second, to you.

He saw the look on your face.

The way your fingers were curled into your lap, nails pressing deep into your skin.

The silent plea in your eyes.

And just like that, the tension in his shoulders dropped just slightly, the fire in his expression dimming just enough to see you.

You swallowed thickly, turning to John who was opening his mouth, again. Dragging in a shaky breath before reaching out, your fingers wrapping around John’s forearm.

“Stop,” you said quietly.

John barely glanced at you. “Stop what?”

You squeezed a little tighter. “John,” you said, your voice lower now, more desperate. “Stop this.”

John finally looked at you then, turning his body toward you slightly, his eyes narrowing. His smirk was gone. In its place, something colder, something more dangerous.

“I wanna hear you say it,” he murmured, his voice a quiet taunt. “Come on, honey. Where are your manners?”

You stiffened.

John tilted his head, his smirk returning. “Say it nicely,” he pressed, his fingers ghosting over your thigh under the table. “Try ‘please stop, John’.”

The words stuck in your throat.

The way he was looking at you, so smug, so in control, made you feel sick. You hated how easily he could do this, how effortlessly he could turn your voice into something that barely belonged to you anymore.

Your lips parted, just barely, ready to force the words out—

And then Bucky’s voice cut through the air.

“Don’t.”

John’s head snapped up, his entire body going rigid.

Slowly, his eyes narrowed. “Are you telling my girl what to do?”

That was it.

The final line drawn in the sand.

Before anyone could say another word, Steve pushed his chair back with enough force to make it scrape against the floor. His tone was sharp, decisive. Done.

“Okay,” Steve said firmly. “That’s enough. I don’t know what’s going on here, but this—” He gestured between Bucky and John. “—is not happening. Not tonight.”

Bucky didn’t move.

Didn’t take his eyes off John.

Didn’t blink.

Steve exhaled sharply before turning to Bucky. “Buck, let’s go.”

Bucky didn’t respond, not right away. You could see the war in his expression, the sheer force of restraint it took for him to tear his gaze away from John.

But when he finally did, when his blue eyes landed on you again, his expression softened in a way that made your chest ache.

He wasn’t just looking at you. He was asking.

Are you going to be okay?

You wanted to answer.

Wanted to say yes.

Wanted to say no.

Wanted to say please don’t go.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, you looked down.

Bucky’s jaw tightened again, but he didn’t push it.

He just let out a slow, measured breath before finally stepping away from the table.

Steve followed.

A few of the other players, ones who had been too far away to hear what had really gone down, called out casual goodbyes, still laughing about something completely unrelated. They had no idea.

And then, just like that, Bucky was gone.

John exhaled through his nose, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe the audacity. Then, without another glance at you, he pulled his arm from your grip and stood, scooting down the table to where some of the other guys sat.

Like nothing had happened.

Like you weren’t even there.

Laughter bubbled from the other side of the table, casual, easygoing.

Meanwhile, on your side, it was just you and Sam.

The silence between you was suffocating.

You swallowed hard, staring at the candle in the middle of the table like it might give you some kind of answer, some kind of out.

And then, barely above a whisper you spoke. “I’m sorry.”

Sam frowned. “I can’t stress this enough, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

Your throat tightened. You blinked rapidly, a single tear slipping free before you could stop it. You wiped it away quickly, but Sam saw.

He saw.

And he didn’t look away.

For a few more seconds, you just sat there, staring at nothing, the weight in your chest making it hard to breathe. Then, suddenly, the air in the restaurant felt like too much, too hot, too stifling, too heavy.

“I’m gonna head back to the hotel,” you said abruptly, pushing your chair back.

John’s head snapped up immediately. “What?”

You turned to him. “I’m tired. I think I’ll just head back early.”

John frowned, standing before you could even move. He grabbed your wrist, hard, his fingers pressing into your skin in a way that made you flinch.

“You going by yourself?” he asked, voice low.

Sam saw.

His entire body went stiff beside you.

“I figured you wanted to stay, don’t you?” you asked John carefully, testing the waters.

John let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he finally, finally, released his grip. “Of course I do,” he said smoothly, gesturing toward his teammates. “I’m here with my buddies.”

The guys around him laughed, completely oblivious to the way the moment had just unfolded.

John turned back to you, smirking. “Wait up for me?”

You nodded mechanically. “Of course.”

His smirk widened. “That’s my girl.”

And then, without warning, he yanked you down, crushing his lips to yours.

It wasn’t a kiss.

It was a claim.

A reminder.

It was too much, too hard, too aggressive, too something but you let him do it anyway. You always did.

When he finally pulled away, he flashed you one last smile before smacking your ass, earning a laugh from the other guys and turning back to the conversation like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just bruised your wrist.

Like he hadn’t just stolen the air from your lungs.

Like he hadn’t just won.

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to move, forcing yourself to leave before you made the mistake of looking back.

[mysteryanimator]

Ok so this a word ramble that I originally shared to a few folks, and then went “what the hell sure” and I’m sharing this here. Though this is more word ramble rather than structured then anything I’ve written analysis wise. The only reason why it’s less structured then what I normally do is because if I were to do this properly, I would genuinely go make a PowerPoint and multiple animatic examples to prove a point for a made up what-if 😭 I have to go be productive haha

Ok here we go

How we could have a Mizrak and Olrox intimacy scene actually work

This is hypotheticals I’m not actually trying to say it should be this way, I’m just really interested on this concept because it CAN work and it makes my brain excited. Also side point- you can also very easily achieve all of these scenes without a sexual intimacy scene as well, it’s honestly just up for can be portrayed and want needs to be conveyed to the audience. As long as the main ideas that need to be said are said!

I’ll preface beforehand too, this will be having Mizrak in particularly lean into a more positive viewpoint on it simply because I think we need more positive accepting sex scenes in animated queer scenes, especially with a repressed gay man coming to accept vampirism aka queerness. I think that’s neat in contrast to a lot of intimate scenes that aren’t so positive :D this also means a lot of it will come with my a lot of my own personal opinions!!

First of all, it would build an entirely new perspective on mizrak for us as an audience! There is so much we viewers that we do not know about him. Yet Olrox is so comfortable sharing alot of his emotional vulnerabilities to him, unlike Drolta in the graveyard scene. This type of physical intimacy literally has some baring their entire self to someone else. Nakedness is vulnerability. Mizrak is also a ‘warrior monk’ who wears armour. So you’re literally stripping him of not only his armour, we’re stripping him of the label he’s had since who knows how long. We go from warrior monk to just Mizrak. Every single scene of him in Nocturne is just defined by his monk title, never Mizrak. Which is also why it’s hard for a lot of us to imagine him in clothes other than his monk attire.

His monk attire is now however gone because drum roll. He’s a VAMPIRE. This is important I swear!

(Side tangent his ‘rebirth’ scene at the end of episode 08 when he’s revealed to be a vampire was unbelievably really fucking good)

He’s going to be dealing with a lot of self identity issues, his self image and how he feels about himself. He was already pretty repressed beforehand, and now all the walls are crashing down. Firstly as mentioned before, nakedness is a form of vulnerability. It would be such an interesting and unique way to showcase an acceptance of his identity. It’s both of his new identity of vampirism but also his identity of being queer. Almost as if having the reverse occur in the story of Genesis, where Adam and Eve become ashamed when they realised they’re naked. The opposite happening for Mizrak would be just interesting!

Another point is that we can explore Mizrak’s acceptance of vampire’s having a soul/life! I semi-explored the concept in an animatic not that long ago just because the idea just intrigues me sooooo much. I kinda want to explore it further but busy atm 😔, though I would genuinely make space and time to work on something like that regardless of what show/film it is. Emmanuel learns the concept that vampires/night creatures have souls, that they remember their lives beforehand when he turns Drolta into a night creature. It is totally up to audience interpretation if Mizrak recognises learns vampires have souls through this line:

“If you have a soul Olrox, and maybe you do, I hope it finds peace.”

However, through an intimacy scene, you could absolutely cement Mizrak learning then and there Olrox does indeed have a soul. Solely because, I’m going to get pretty NSFW here, Olrox is reacting to Mizrak, he’s reacting to what’s happening to each other BAHAHA. He’s getting emotionally invested in the moment, beyond the physicality, which could click something in Mizrak’s brain. There is a life to Olrox because that vampire is sweating and moaning HAHAHAH, which if he were to be truly soulless and lifeless, he would not be doing all of that. He’s a breathing, living person who has a soul. Ensue Mizrak accepting and giving in 🏃

Sure this probably happened between episode 3 and episode 4 in season 1, but for us to only see it now would mark an importance for Mizrak. It’s important for us as an audience to see this recognition because it will fundamentally change him and progress both their narratives. Every Mizrak and Olrox scene from episode 03 of season 1 to episode 08, something changes and something moves forward.

Speaking of life, Olrox has not been living. He’s depressed and traumatised. He’s the what-if he just killed the person who killed his lover dilemma for Dracula (thank you Tack for that!) He hasn’t lived since his lover died UNTIL Mizrak. I personally haven’t had seen so much life in him until he was fighting Drolta, saw Mizrak wounded and then started RUNNING??? It’d be really interesting conceptually to see Olrox be ‘alive’ in a much more safer private space, just between him and Mizrak!

This is also something you can very very easily achieve in 2-3 minutes, which is how long most of their scenes together are because they’re side characters. Or even less, 30 seconds it’s entirely possible to convey all of the above in little time. Power of visuals is important!!! Censoring is also not an issue too, I think you could censor this to hell and back but with smart and powerful storyboard choices from whoever gets the blessing to do it, concrete writing, you can actually have something that goes along narratively with the love theme in Nocturne and it’s positive influence on people. Mizrak’s self-acceptance and Olrox’s life reinvigorated. Of course everything beforehand has to build this up to this before it happens. Me, the brainrot person I am, recognises how hands are like a super important thing for them so it would be very cool to have that incorporated in somehow. Also, having the Olrox holding Mizrak from behind thing come up again, but with Mizrak accepting it properly and leaning back into him (or even Mizrak holding Olrox from behind) during a scene like this?? During a emotionally and physically vulnerable moment? Actual shockwaves I tell you, I think you’d have the whole fan base in tears.

There are nuances here, visual metaphors to play off, unique storytelling pathways it could go down, interesting characterisation you specific to sex and so forth!

Anyways that’s my proper ramble for the week, I hope you enjoyed my season 3 episode 6 pitch (massive joke I’m joking I’m joking, tho honestly would be so funny though if I could pitch something like because I will do my proper research, I will pull up statistics if I must and make visuals. Though I generally do understand how intimacy scenes don’t happen often, though Cativi winning an Annie award would prove to help strength the argument I’m making :D )

[the-elder-polls]

hi. PLEASE elaborate on duel to the death marriage ceremony with dagoth ur. What on earth does this entail.

FHHJFBFJHB okay so by the time moon-and-star agreed to marry dagoth ur, he had fully recovered his memories as nerevar. he was very upfront and told ur "i am going to try to kill you", to which ur had a response along the lines of "i would expect nothing less". part of the entire thing was accepting that one of them was going to die. there was no way around this; they both knew and accepted it. one of them would be a widower by the day's end.

they went through with a very strange vow exchange, a feast, and then proceeded to strip naked and start beating the shit out of each other in every way possible. this is also how their daughter was conceived. by the end of it, they had fucked and fought their way to the heart chamber, where moon-and-star finally struck ur down.

they simply could not be normal. instead of having a honeymoon, they exchanged formal apologies and then proceeded to have an entire smackdown