#catching up slowly.......but catching up all the same

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - ELEVEN

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of severe anemia; pregnancy; abortion

💌MASTERLIST

Rafe sat in his truck outside the unassuming brick building for longer than he’d care to admit, over two hours. The sign out front read “Coastal Therapy Center” in simple, soothing letters, but nothing about this felt soothing.

Therapy. 

If someone had told him just three months ago he’d be here, he would have laughed in their face. Therapy was for weak people, that was what Ward Cameron had drilled into him since he was a kid. It was the kind of shit he’d spent his whole life avoiding because, what was the point? Nothing ever changed. Not for him, not for his so-called family.

After his mom died, Ward’s solution was to bury it—all of it. Grief, pain, confusion. “Camerons don’t cry,” he’d said. “We keep moving forward.” But what if forward felt like walking through hell?

The door felt impossibly far away, but he knew he had to get out.

“Get your shit together man,” he muttered under his breath.

He could hear his dad’s voice in his head, unforgiving. Weak. Pathetic. That same voice had driven him for years, pushed him to be stronger, tougher, to bury every fucking thing he felt. But it wasn’t Ward’s voice that mattered now, it was yours, the Picture of your eyes shining with tears the last time you’d spoken to him.

He glanced at the building again, still not knowing if he believed in it, if it could fix whatever was broken inside him. But he did know one thing: if he didn’t at least try, he’d lose you for good.

Rafe exhaled sharply, shoving open the truck door, but before he walked it, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. His fingers fumbled with the lighter, the flame sputtering before finally catching. He took a drag, the smoke burning his lungs in a way that almost felt good.

He exhaled slowly, watching the gray wisps disappear into the air. He flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot. He should just leave. Get back in the truck, drive somewhere, anywhere but here. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered, pushing himself off the wall and shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked back to the door. One foot in front of the other, he told himself, although it felt like walking to his own execution.The waiting room was quiet, with soft music playing in the background. 

He hated it already. He didn’t belong here, but he chose to stay, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt like a bitch. He couldn’t stop his legs from bouncing as he waited for the receptionist to notice him.

When she eventually looked up and smiled, he nodded stiffly, avoiding her. He didn’t want her kindness. Didn’t deserve it. Rafe wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say when he walked into that first session. 

He didn’t know how to explain the mess, the voices in his head, the anger that raged over and the guilt that followed like a shadow. But he knew why he was here.

When the therapist finally called his name, Rafe hesitated for half a second before standing. She looked normal enough—glasses, sweater, clipboard—but it still made his skin crawl. He felt like she could see through him, as if she already knew all the shit he’d done and thought and didn’t want to admit to anyone, especially himself.

“Rafe?” she called again, her voice patient. He didn’t deserve that either, but he nodded and followed her to the room.

It was small, the kind of place that made him feel like a caged animal, he sat on the couch because what the hell else was he supposed to do, and stared at the floor, picking at a thread on his jeans.

“So,” she started, sitting across from him, crossing her legs like this was just a normal conversation. “What brings you here today?”

 “Huh, what doesn’t?” he said before he could stop himself. He glanced up at her, half expecting her to kick him out right there.

But she didn’t, instead she simply nodded, like she got it, she’d heard worse. 

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s start with whatever feels the hardest.”

He leaned back, running a hand over his face. 

Where the fuck was he even supposed to start? His mom dying? His dad? The drugs, the fights, the hole he’d dug so deep he wasn’t sure he’d ever crawl out? Or maybe with you, with the way he’d pushed you away until you had no choice but to hate him?

“I don’t know,” he said finally. His eyes stayed glossed over on a spot on the carpet “I guess...uh, I should start with my mom, right? She died when I was fourteen. Leukemia.”

The therapist didn’t say anything, just nodded like she was giving him space to keep going. He hated the silence, how much it made him feel, but he kept going, because if he was going to do this shit right, he might as well not half-ass it.

““I’m sorry to hear that,” she said gently. “What do you remember most about her? What was she like?”

Rafe’s lips twitched, “She was… everything, y’know?” His throat felt sore, “I know everyone says that shit about their mom, but she really was. She was the one who kept everything together. When my dad was being—” 

He stopped short, his jaw twitching at how hard he bite his tongue.

“When he was being what?” the therapist prompted.

“When he was being him, she was the one who’d step in. She’d tell him to back off, that I was just a kid, or that I didn’t deserve whatever shit he was throwing at me that day. She was the only one who ever really had my back.”

“How did losing her affect your relationship with your dad?”

“It changed everything. When she got sick, it was like… I don’t know, like everything just fell apart. She was the glue, y’know? Without her, my dad just—he went full-on Ward Cameron.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he swallowed hard, “I remember the day she died,” he said after a long pause. “I thought I’d have more time. They kept saying it was bad, but I didn’t think it would happen that day. And then it did. Just like that.”

He rubbed his hands together, the motion frantic, restless. “I didn’t even cry. I just sat there, staring at the floor while my dad kept saying, ‘We’ll get through this. We’re Camerons. We don’t fall apart.’ And I was like, okay, I guess that’s what we’re doing then. Not falling apart. Just… moving forward.”

“What does that mean to you, ‘full-on Ward Cameron’?”

“It means he turned me into his fucking project.”

“Did he ever talk to you about what you were feeling? About how hard it was to lose her?” the therapist asked, her tone pointed.

“No,” Rafe said immediately,“My dad never wanted to talk about it. He acted like it was this... inconvenience. Yeah, he was sad, but he just buried it, wanted me to do the same.”

“What do you mean by that?” she prompted

Rafe let out a bitter laugh. 

“I’m the oldest, out of three. Not just the oldest— the only son. Wen she died, my dad decided I had to step up, be the man of the house. Take care of my sisters, keep everything running smoothly. Be his goddamn mini-me, like that was even possible. I was fourteen, but that shit didn’t matter. My dad expected me to bury all the shit I was feeling, I had to be twice as strong because I was the only man left.”

“How did that make you feel?” she asked, her tone measured but firm.

“How do you think it made me feel?” he snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself. He sighed, leaning forward again and dropping his head into his hands. “Shit, sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” she nodded, not the least bit fazed, “But I think it’s important to answer that question. How did it make you feel?”

“Like shit,” he admitted after a long pause. “I couldn’t do anything right. I was pissed at him for putting all of that on me, pissed at my sister for needing me, pissed at her for dying and leaving me with all this. And most of all, pissed at myself because no matter what I did, it was never enough. Not for him, not for me.”

“Do you think you could have stopped it?” the therapist asked softly.

Rafe’s head snapped up at that, but then he shook his head. “No,” he admitted, “I know I couldn’t, it wasn’t my fault. But it felt like it was, if I’d been better—smarter, stronger—she would’ve stayed. Or at least… she would’ve been proud of me for trying.”

He hasn't said it out loud since that night, with you.

She pursed her lips, as she took notes, “You should give yourself more credit, for how much you’ve survived.”

“Credit? For what? Being a fuck-up?”

She barely looked up from her notebook, changing the direction of her questions, “What do you think your mom would say to you now, if she could?” 

Rafe’s throat tightened, and he looked away, “I don’t know. Fuck, maybe... maybe she’d say she’s proud of me for being here. For trying to fix it, even if I should’ve done it years ago,” He paused, swallowing hard. “She probably would think I’m a fucking idiot, I pushed away the one person who actually fucking mattered.”

“Who’s that?” the therapist asked gently.

“My girlfriend,” He bit his tongue, the word stinging, “Ex-girlfriend now, I guess. After my dad died, I just—I started pushing her away. Picking fights over Ward, shutting her out when she tried to help me see the truth about him,” He swallowed hard, his throat burning. 

He hadn’t expected to feel this vulnerable, but now that he’d started talking about you, about what he’d ruined, it was hard to stop.

“She’s the one, y’know?” he muttered, his voice distant as though he was speaking to himself more than anyone else. “I fucked it all up.”

“What happened?”

Rafe let out a shaky breath.

“I was an asshole. I told her I didn’t need her, that she should just leave, like it wasn’t me who was the fuckin’problem. She did—she left, thought if I cut her loose or pushed her away, maybe I wouldn’t feel so fucking broken. Maybe if I wasn’t constantly looking at her and seeing everything I couldn’t be, I could... I don’t know. Get my shit together or some bullshit.” He rubbed his temples, frustration mounting “But then, like a fucking idiot, I started seeing someone else. All I could think about was how much it would hurt her if she found out. And it did.” His voice cracked, “It fucking destroyed her, I knew it would. That’s the worst part—I fucking knew, and I still let it happen, like the selfish piece of shit I am.”

He pressed his palms to his eyes, hoping it could block out the memory of you—your tear-streaked face.

“What do you think that relationship was about?”

His fists clenched again, “A distraction? I thought if I just... started fresh, started with someone who didn’t know all my baggage, someone who wouldn’t make me feel like I was constantly failing, I could just... forget. Forget everything. Forget her, forget my dad, forget how fucked up I was.”

“And did it help you forget?” she asked, her voice steady, but full of understanding.

“No,” He gritted out, “I couldn’t stop thinking about her, even when I was with someone else. Every time I closed my eyes, it was her face I saw. Her voice I heard in my head, telling me I could do better, be better. Shit, all I could do was prove her wrong.”

The therapist leaned forward slightly, her expression compassionate. “It sounds like she means a great deal to you.”

“Talking about her,” He paused, wincing as if he was in physical pain, “She’s just—fuck, man—she’s always in my head. It’s worse than talking about my parents, worse than remembering my mom dying or my dad. Because with them, it’s just... loss, y’know? Her? I had her, she was there. She loved me, and I ruined it.”

“What do you think she would say to you now, if she could hear this?” the therapist suggested, “You don’t have to think about it, if you don’t want to.”

Rafe’s breath hitched, and he rubbed the back of his neck. He chuckled, but it came out jagged “Shit, that sounded real fuckin’ pathetic, huh? I can’t even talk about her without losing my shit.”

“It’s not pathetic. Give it a try.”

“I don’t know,” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his noise, “That it’s too late? She’s done with me, and I deserve it. I think she’d still tell me to get my shit together and she’s proud of me for trying, even if I’m still the same fucked-up mess I was when she left, even if she hates me. That’s the kind of person she is.” His throat tightened again, and he looked away. “But even if she did, it doesn’t change the fact that I broke her heart.”

The therapist let the silence stretch for a moment before speaking again. “It’s clear that you’re carrying a lot of pain, not just from losing her, but from how you see yourself in all of this. Have you ever thought about what it might look like to forgive yourself?”

“Forgive myself?” Rafe repeated, his voice incredulous. He shook his head, scoffing. “I don’t even... know what that would look like, y’know?” His leg started bouncing again, the restless energy coursing through him. “How do you even do that? Is there, uh, like, a fucking manual or something for that shit?” His voice cracked on the last word, and he shook his head, “I keep replaying it. All the shit I said to her.”

The therapist didn’t say anything, just watched him, her expression poised. He hated that, how calm she was when he felt like he was losing it.

He huffed, leaning back against the couch. “I mean, yeah, maybe that’s why I’m here. I don’t even know where to fucking start. It’s just—fuck, it’s just a lot. Too much.”

“It’s a lot of guilt for just one person, Rafe,” she pointed out, “Your mom, your dad, your relationship. And I think you’re right—talking about it won’t change the past, but it might help you figure out how to move forward.”

He scoffed “Yeah, okay. Move forward. Sounds easy enough.”

“It’s not easy,” she admitted. “But it’s possible. You don’t have to figure it all out today, or even next month.” 

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“You’ve already started,” she pointed out. “You’re here.”

You’re here. 

Those two words rattled around in his skull. He was here, but why? To make himself feel better? To prove to himself—or you—that he could do this, could change? Did he even believe that?

He thought about the nights he spent pacing his room, phone in hand, your number glowing on the screen. He’d wanted to call, to apologize, to beg, but he couldn’t. What would he even say? 

Rafe let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping, his foot tapping out an uneven rhythm. He didn’t have it in him to argue, not anymore. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, “I’m here.”

He was there, sure, but the room still felt small, the air dirty, his own body too restless to sit still for another second. His hands clenched into fists against his thighs, his nails biting into the fabric of his levi’s.

“You say you’re a mess, but you’re here,” the therapist said after a moment, her tone even. “You’re talking about it, trying to figure out what went wrong and what you can do to make it right. That doesn’t sound like someone who’s given up.”

He wanted her to push, to give him a reason to bolt out of there, to justify why this whole thing was a stupid mistake. But she didn’t, she was waiting like she had all the time in the world.

“Why’s it gotta be like this, huh? Why does everything have to hurt so f-fucking much? Why can’t I just... be normal? Like everyone else?”

“Normal is a lot more complicated than it looks. What does ‘normal’ mean to you?”

He scoffed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know. Not waking up every day feeling like... like there’s this weight on my chest.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze firm but not invasive. “That sounds exhausting.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to my life,” he scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s like... I can’t turn it off, y’know?” He gestured vaguely at himself, at the space around him. “It’s just there. Always.”

“You mentioned earlier that you feel like you’re not enough,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “Not enough for who?”

“For anyone,” he said immediately, then paused, his throat tightening. “For my dad, for my sisters... for her. I mean, shit, if I can’t even be enough for me, how the fuck am I supposed to be enough for anyone else?”

The therapist smiled faintly, not unkindly. “That’s what we’re here to understand.”

Two hours later and 300$ short, his phone buzzed on the passenger seat, the screen lighting up with two missed calls and a flood of texts. All from Topper. 

Rafe grabbed the phone, unlocking it with his thumb and scrolling through the messages.

Topper: “Bro. SOS.” “I think she hates me.” “Like, actually hates me.” “Call me back. This is a situation.”

He huffed out a breath, tossing the phone back onto the seat. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. Topper’s idea of a crisis was probably that your coffee order had foam when you wanted oat milk or some shit.

Rafe rubbed his temples knowing he wasn’t exactly in a position to play mediator. 

The last call came in five minutes ago, he muttered, “What the fuck did you do now?” and hit the call button.

Topper picked up on the first ring.

“Rafe!” Topper’s voice was a mess— frantic, breathless, like he’d just run a marathon. “Okay, okay, it’s official—she’s gonna kill me or us—”

“Top, what the fuck are you talking about?” He snapped, already annoyed.

“I—uh—Did you tell her I told you?” Topper stammered. “Because she blocked me, everywhere. She told me, ‘Never speak to me again,’ and blocked me! I’m dead. She’s gonna cut me off for good, man.”

Rafe bit the inside of his cheek, “I didn’t, but Sarah knows you know.”

“Why would you tell her?” Topper grumbled out, “You know she hates me too. She’s the enemy.”

“She’s my sister you fuckin’ idiot.”

“Semantics.”

Rafe leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling of his truck. He wanted to hang up, but Topper’s desperation was almost pathetic enough to make him stick around

His friend fell silent for a moment. Then, quietly: “You think she’s gonna be okay? I mean, with everything?”

“I don’t know. But she’s strong. She’s gonna do what she needs to do—whether we’re in the picture or not.”

Topper swallowed audibly. “So… what do I do?”

Rafe sighed, “Give her space. Just… back off and let her come to you. If she even wants to.”

“It’s kinda crazy, right? Asking you for advice? For the longest time, you were public enemy number one. You, the big, bad ex who broke her heart.” Topper’s laugh was nervous, he knew he was pushing it but couldn’t stop himself. “Now she hates me more. Like, I dethroned you. That’s wild.”

 “Yeah, hilarious,” he muttered.

Topper either didn’t catch the sarcasm or chose to ignore it. “A real plot twist. I knew I’d screw up eventually, but I didn’t think I’d ever top your record.”

“Topper,” Rafe growled, “this isn’t a fuckin’ joke. You don’t even know the half of it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You mean, like… she really hates you, or…?”

Wow.

Rafe clicked his tongue in annoyance, “The fuck you think?”

"Wait, wait," Topper said quickly, his voice climbing. "You still haven’t asked her? Confirmed all this? What if I—what if I misunderstood or something?"

His eyes squeezed shut, as if the sheer force of Topper’s stupidity might give him an aneurysm. "Yeah, fuckin' genius. Because it’s so easy to ask someone who won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me."

"Okay, okay, fair," Topper admitted, “Your sister could’ help.”

“Again Top, be fucking serious.”

"Yeah, okay, nevermind. But what if it’s not true? What if I made things worse for no reason?"

"You did make things worse," Rafe snapped, his patience hanging by a thread. "You’re lucky she hasn’t shown up at your door to shoot you.”

"Not helping, dude," Topper muttered, then hesitated. "So… what’re you gonna do? I mean, if she won’t talk to you, if Sarah won’t fess up, how’re you gonna know for sure? What if she really is—y’know—and you’re just sitting here like a dumbass, waiting for a miracle?"

Rafe opened his eyes, staring blankly at the dashboard. Topper wasn’t wrong, but hearing it said out loud made his stomach burn, especially after he just spent a good fucking hour talking about you, pouring his feelings out to a stranger he paid for.

Was he wasting time—time you needed him to be stepping up?

"I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, okay? I want to know, but—she’s got every right to hate me, man. How am I supposed to just… show up and ask her something like that, huh?”

Topper exhaled loudly, his usual bravado replaced with uncharacteristic uncertainty. "Yeah, I guess you’re kinda in a lose-lose situation. Damn. That’s rough, bro."

"Thanks for the insight. Real helpful," Rafe grumbled, running a hand over his face.

“She’s blocking me, she’s not talking to you—you think she’s just gonna wake up one day and decide to make it easy for us? For you?"

Rafe sighed, "No. She’s not."

"So… what’s the move?"

Rafe stared out the windshield, his heart pounding in his chest. What was the move? He didn’t have an answer.

"Guess I’ll figure it out," he said finally, voice rough around the edges.

Topper hummed thoughtfully. "Well, uh, good luck with that. And, y’know, if you figure it out… let me know if I’m, like, still alive in her eyes or if I should start preparing for witness protection."

Rafe rubbed his forehead, trying to avoid the headache that was building behind his eyes. "You’re on your own there.”

"Fair," Topper said lightly, “Shit, this is depressing. We should go on a boat ride tomorrow.”

A boat day? He could almost hear the suggestion in Topper's voice: a desperate, half-hearted attempt to get away from it all.

"Yeah," Rafe hummed, "Maybe.”

"Seriously, though, it might help," Topper said, but he could tell the guy was genuinely losing it, "Get out on the water, clear our heads, get some space.”

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, staring at the dashboard “Space,” he repeated hollowly. Empty. "Yeah, I guess.”

Topper's voice came through again, sounding more serious "Just don't stay in your head too long, man. Don't get stuck there. You deserve a break too.”

Maybe the boat ride was the kind of distraction he needed to stop the spiral he’d been going down over the past few days. To stop thinking about all the things he couldn’t fix right now.

"Alrigh’, we’ll do the boat thing."

Topper, as if relieved that Rafe was playing along, responded with a chuckle. “Sweet. I’ll get the cooler ready. It’ll be good. I’ll try not to drive you completely insane.”

“Don’t make any promises,” He rolled his eyes, feeling the tension in his body soothe slightly, though it was still there—a bruise that hadn't healed.

The call ended shortly after, leaving him alone with his thoughts again.

He glanced at the phone, the notifications still lighting up with messages from Topper. He barely glanced at them, his mind turning instead to you, as always. To the things he should have said, the things he should have done. To the feeling of you slipping farther away, out of his reach, out of his life.

He didn’t know what the hell he was doing anymore, didn’t know how to fix any of this. 

He just knew that at least for a little while, he wouldn’t have to be alone with his thoughts.

You were at ponguelandia again for the night, it wasn’t exactly where you wanted to be, but beggars can’t be choosers, right?

Sarah had insisted, practically dragged you here after hearing about your “severe anemia” situation. Add the fact that carrying the baby could fuck up your health to the point where you’d be bedridden for the rest of your life (or worse), and it was a recipe for a meltdown. 

You couldn’t be alone right now, not after all that. Being around people was better than being alone. 

Her and John B were being everything you needed, so you’d put on a happy face and pretend you weren’t dying inside. They were doing their whole supportive couple thing, and it was almost everything you needed—if it weren’t also so annoyingly them. Could they be more in love? Probably not. It was nauseating in the best and worst way, watching the life you could’ve had with someone else if things had turned out differently.

Then there was Kie and JJ. They were around, too, in their usual JJ-and-Kie way: watching you, but not prying, holding back out of respect—or pity. They knew you’d passed out on the beach two weeks ago and that you were “sick,” but Sarah had spared them the details. Small blessings, you guessed.

You were trying your best to keep up the whole "everything’s fine" act, but it was getting exhausting. Sarah had been the one who knew the real story—about the anemia, the baby, the complications—and she was the only one who knew how much of a mess you were in.

You’d asked her not to tell any of them. That didn’t make the pretending any easier. All they knew was that you were feeling a little under the weather, run-down, nothing too serious. You didn’t want to tell them. They’d never understand, not in the way you needed him to. Not when the issue was...everything.

You were curled up on the couch in their messy living room, a blanket thrown over your legs, you were trying to hide under it. You were just tired of pretending you weren’t falling apart inside. But you could do it for Sarah, she deserved to have a normal night, one that wasn’t filled with you sobbing in her arms. 

John B was sitting on the other side of the couch, there was an awkward space between you two. Not in a bad way, just... you didn’t really know him. He and Rafe had a history, to say things were tense between them was an understatement. But you liked him for Sarah, he treated her right. 

That was more than you could say for a lot of people in her life, so... here you were.

Kie was sitting cross-legged on the armchair, holding a bottle of something that definitely wasn’t soda, while JJ sprawled across the floor by her feet. John B had his arm slung casually around Sarah, who was perched on the couch between you and him, her body half-turned toward you as if she were ready to intervene at a moment’s notice. 

Always watching, always waiting.

JJ tossed a pretzel at Kiara, which she caught without looking up.

“So, tomorrow’s the big day,” he announced, grinning like a kid.

Kie rolled her eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“To you,” he shot back, pointing dramatically. “To me? Monumental. Legendary. Historic.”

Sarah groaned. “He’s talking about the party,” she explained, bracing for your reaction.

“What party?” you asked, already regretting the question.

“Just a little thing at Poguelandia,” John B said casually, brushing popcorn crumbs off his jeans. “Bonfire, some drinks, a couple of people. Nothing crazy, it's promotional."

 “A couple of people? Dude, half the island’s gonna show up.”

John B shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “It’s not a party unless it’s packed.”

“Exactly,” JJ said, leaning back on his elbows. “You have to come. It’s gonna be sick.”

You made a face, “I’m not really in a party mood.”

Sarah turned to you immediately, her eyes wide and full of meaning. The look. The one that said, C’mon, you need this.

“It’d be fun,” she pouted, “You could use a little fun right now.”

“I’m fine,” you said, avoiding her eyes and focusing on the popcorn in your lap. “I don’t need a party to cheer me up.”

Kiara raised an eyebrow. “Oh, come on. Just a chill day. You won’t even have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to.”

“And there’ll be drinks,” JJ added with a wink. “Or, you know, drink-adjacent options for those who can’t hang.”

For a second, your stomach almost dropped. Did he know? The way he said it—so casually—it almost felt like he did. It felt like he was teasing you in that obnoxious JJ way, but with an awareness that made you want to crawl out of your skin. But then logic kicked in.

They didn’t know. Not about the baby, at least. As far as they were concerned, you were just sick. Which, to be fair, you were. “Drink-adjacent” made sense because no one expected you to down shots when you could barely keep yourself upright most days.

Still, the comment made you uneasy, and your fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket.

“Right,” you grimaced, your voice stiff. “Because nothing says ‘party’ like seltzer water.”

“That’s the spirit. We’ll even get the fancy kind, with lime or whatever. Really roll out the red carpet for you.”

Kie snorted. “You’re so generous, JJ.”

“Hey, I’m a man of the people baby,” he said, throwing his hands up like he was defending his honor.

Sarah nudged you again, harder this time, and you glanced at her out of the corner of your eye. She was giving you that look again, the one that screamed, Just say yes already.

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” you muttered, aiming for annoyed but landing somewhere closer to resigned.

“Nope,” she said brightly.

You sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

JJ whooped, pumping a fist in the air like you’d just agreed to crown him king of the Pogues. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“I didn’t say I was going. I said I’d think about it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving you off like the details didn’t matter. “Thinking about it is basically saying yes.” JJ grinned at you, “But y’know,” he started, pointing a lazy finger in your direction, “it’s still kind of insane that you’re here. The literal kook of the kooks.”

You rolled your eyes, “And yet, here I am. Stuck with the pogues. Truly the highlight of my life.”

“Admit it. You love it. The... gritty charm.”

“Right,” you casted a skeptical glance around the room. “Because who wouldn’t love the charm of beer-stained furniture, half-empty snack bags, and... whatever that smell is?” You wrinkled your nose for effect, though you weren’t entirely joking.

The place was a dump.

John B chuckled from his corner of the couch, tossing a piece of popcorn at JJ. “She’s not wrong, man. This place barely qualifies as livable.”

“Livable?” JJ looked mock-offended, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “This is prime real estate! You kooks don’t appreciate the artistic chaos.”

Kiara looked up from her phone. “It’s chaos, all right.”

Sarah leaned toward you, her voice low and teasing. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s just salty you make this place look like a dump by comparison.”

“Please,” JJ cut in, leaning forward, “This place looks like a dump because it is a dump. But it’s our dump.” He grinned, flicking his eyes back to you. “And now, apparently, it’s yours too. Welcome to the family, kook princess.”

You snorted, unable to help yourself. “Don’t get used to it.”

JJ clutched his chest again. “Ouch. Cold. But fair.”

The truth was, you did think the place was terrible. 

Objectively, it was, you already knew that since last week.

The furniture didn’t match, the walls had stains you didn’t want to think too hard about, and everything felt sticky, even if it wasn’t. You were used to perfect beachfront properties with matching decor and staff that catered to your every whim. This? It was a wreck.

But at the same time, there was something about it that felt... alive. The chaos wasn’t just chaos—it was theirs. The mismatched furniture, the random surfboards propped in corners, the lived-in feel of a space that wasn’t trying to impress anyone. It made you hate it and love it all at once.

Your eyes flicked to Kie, who rolled hers at JJ but couldn’t hide her smile. He said something under his breath, too quiet for anyone else to hear, and she shoved his shoulder in mock annoyance. He grinned at her, that lazy grin he probably didn’t even realize he saved just for her. And she was trying so hard to look unimpressed, but her expression softened anyway, she couldn’t help herself.

Sarah caught you looking and smirked, nudging you. “Cute, right?” she whispered.

You gave her a half-smile, more honest this time. “Annoyingly so.”

JJ, oblivious to the exchange, flopped onto his back. “I don’t know why you all keep insulting my hospitality. If this was a five-star resort, it wouldn’t have vibes.”

“Yeah, vibes of a condemned building,” you grumbled back, unable to help yourself.

And when everyone laughed—Kie’s chuckle, Sarah’s giggle, JJ’s full-blown cackle—you hated yourself a little for loving it here, even as you pretended you didn’t.

Would things have been different if you hadn’t been born a Kook?

The thought hit you out of nowhere, unwelcomely, like it always did when you let your guard down. Would your family still be alive if you weren’t wrapped up in the trappings of wealth and privilege? If your dad hadn’t been able to afford that stupid private jet, if your mom hadn’t insisted on using it for every family trip, if your sister hadn’t tagged along on that one last flight...

It was a cruel, useless spiral of what-ifs that never went anywhere but still had you choking on guilt every time. Because it wasn’t just the money. It was the whole stupid kook world—the private schools, the country clubs, the constant need to show off and be better than everyone else. That world had shaped your family, pushed them into the roles they played, and it had been the death of them, literally and figuratively.

You wondered, not for the first time, if they would’ve been safer if you’d all been normal. Just some middle-class family driving to vacations in an old station wagon, complaining about rest-stop food and fighting over the radio. Maybe your parents wouldn’t have been so busy, and maybe your sister wouldn’t have been on that flight at all.

Your throat burned, and you blinked hard, trying to push the thoughts back where they belonged. The pogues were still talking, still laughing, completely unaware of the war blazing in your head.

“You’re lucky to be here, kook princess. You’re getting the real-life experience.”

You forced a weak smile, still staring at the popcorn. “The real-life experience.”

If this was real life, you thought bitterly, maybe you wouldn’t have so much to regret. Maybe you’d still have them. Maybe you’d even know who you were outside of the perfect, shiny bubble you’d grown up in—one that had popped so catastrophically you were still finding pieces of it in your skin.

Maybe if you hadn’t been born a kook, you wouldn’t have met Rafe when you were kids. You wouldn’t have been his best friend, wouldn’t have spent your whole childhood trailing after him, clinging to every crooked smile and reckless dare like they were proof that you mattered.

You wouldn’t have fallen in love with him at sixteen, back when you thought love meant him driving you to the beach in his dad’s truck, his hand on your thigh, telling you you were the only person who really got him. You wouldn’t have had your heart broken by him now, when he was with someone else. Your hand drifted to your stomach, a subconscious gesture that made your breath hitch. You wouldn’t be pregnant with his kid, either. Or sick.

You’d built this whole life around him without even realizing it.

Would it have been better? Not having Rafe at all?

You wanted to say yes. You wanted to imagine a version of your life where he’d never existed, where you didn’t have his name carved into your heart. Where you weren’t here now, still loving him. Where you weren’t pregnant and alone while he was somewhere else.

The truth—the awful, undeniable truth—was that you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

For all the ways he’d broken you, Rafe had been the one to hold you together when everything else fell apart, the one who pulled you out of bed when you couldn’t find the strength, who made you laugh when you thought you’d forgotten how.

If it weren’t for him, you didn’t know if you’d even be here now.

And you wouldn’t trade the sound of his laugh for anything in the world. Not the condescending biting one he used to throw around when he was being an ass, but the real one, the one that came out when he was caught off guard. 

Even if you hated him, you couldn’t regret him. Not all the way. Not enough to wish he’d never been in your life. Despite all of it—he’d been there when no one else was, that was enough to keep him tethered to your heart, even now, when you wished it wasn’t.

“Earth to princess,” Kiara's voice cut through your thoughts, bringing you back to the dimly lit room and the blanket over your legs. She waved a hand in front of your face, “You still with us, or are you planning your escape route?”

You forced a smile, “Just trying to figure out how I got roped into your weird little cult, that’s all.”

They laughed, the sound was bright enough to pull you out of your head, just for a moment. It wasn’t the same as Rafe’s laugh, but it was something. Right now, you’d take it.

When you woke up, the house was already buzzing. 

The pogues were up and at it, setting up for whatever party they had planned. You’d slept in, which wasn’t like you, but Sarah had all but forced you to stay in bed last night, insisting you needed the rest. She’d even made John B sleep on the couch so you could take his spot in their bed. You felt bad—guilty, really—you tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but Sarah was Sarah. Stubborn, loyal, annoyingly sweet Sarah.

The morning, however, had been nothing short of a disaster.

You barely made it out of bed before you were sprinting to the bathroom, dry-heaving over the toilet like you’d had one too many shots at a party the night before. Except, this wasn’t from partying—it was the fucking morning sickness. Thank God everyone else was outside setting up, or you’d have to deal with their questions.

You stayed in the bathroom longer than you wanted to, rinsing your mouth out and glaring at yourself in the mirror like your reflection was to blame for your misery. Your hair was a mess, your skin looked pale. You looked like shit.

To make matters worse, the house was painfully loud. Every noise from outside echoed through the shitty walls, stabbing into your head. The party. Where everyone would be drinking, laughing, and probably noticing that you were the only one sitting in a corner looking like you’d been hit by a train.

Groaning, you wiped your face with a cold washcloth. “Fuck,” you complained under your breath, glaring at yourself in the mirror. 

You grabbed the bottle of pre-natal vitamins from your bag, the ones that looked like horse pills, and twisted off the cap. The nausea was already crawling up your throat again, and the last thing you wanted was to shove a giant vitamin down your stomach.

You didn't have much of a choice. You needed it, not just for the baby, but because of the anemia. If you didn't stay on top of it, you’d end up worse than you felt now—and that was already a nightmare you were trying to avoid.

You stared at the pill in your hand, mentally preparing yourself.

“Just swallow it,” you muttered, willing yourself into doing it. It took a moment, but you finally threw it back. You chased it down with a sip of water, grimacing as it settled in your stomach. It felt like you were choking on a rock, and you had to fight to keep your stomach from revolting all over again.

For a while, you sat back on the edge of the bed, elbows on your knees, head in your hands, hating the lingering taste of bile in your mouth even after your oral hygiene.

You let yourself fall back, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily, pressing a hand to your stomach, not out of affection but frustration.

"I’m trying here, okay? Can you at least meet me halfway?" you muttered.

The distant noises and commotion from outside seeped in through the window, but it only made you feel more isolated. You reached for your phone, scrolling aimlessly through notifications you didn’t care about. A text from Sarah popped up: "Take your time. We’ve got it covered out here.”

You tossed the phone aside, rubbing your temples. You wished you could just stay here all day, curled up under the covers, but the thought of Sarah’s concerned face, of the inevitable questions and glances, made that impossible. You were tired of being a problem, tired of being the fragile one everyone tiptoed around.

You sighed, knowing there was no way you’d make it through this day without looking like total crap. You grabbed a hoodie from the back of the door, tossed your hair up into a bun, and made your way downstairs.

You found her in the kitchen, already pouring drinks and bossing JJ and Pope around. She spotted you lingering in the doorway and waved you off before you could say anything.

“Nope,” she shook her head, clicking her tongue at you like you were a misbehaving child. “Don’t even think about it. Go sit down. Rest. It’s gonna be a long day, and you need it, okay?”

You blinked at her, then at the mess around the house. Decorations were half-done outside, the tables and counter were an explosion of snacks, and JJ was currently trying to balance three folding chairs in one hand like a party trick. Kie was arguing with John B about where the cooler should go, and Sarah was somehow keeping it all from falling apart.

You leaned against the doorway, hand still on your stomach, glaring at her as she poured some sort of drink into a plastic cup. “You could’ve woken me up. I’m not completely useless.”

Sarah spun around, eyebrows raised and gave you a look that could kill. “Uh, no, you don’t get to complain. I let you sleep in because you need it, and I’m not about to let you overdo it, okay.”

You sighed, leaning against the counter. “I feel like a freeloader right now.”

“You’re not a freeloader,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes. “You’re my sister. And you’ve been through... a lot. So just chill. We’ve got this.”

“I’m not an invalid.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re pregnant, which means you’re officially on my do-not-let-her-do-anything list. Now go sit your ass down before I make one of them carry you.”

“Don’t drag them into this,” you muttered, but you were already giving up the fight. Sarah was like a pit bull when she made up her mind, and there was no arguing with her. You nodded reluctantly, letting her win this one. It wasn’t like you had the energy to argue anyway.

Outside, the rest of the group was scattered around the yard, setting up for what promised to be a classic pogues-style party. Pope and Cleo had arrived at some point; Pope was trying to figure out how to hang a string of lights between two trees, while Cleo stood nearby, holding a roll of tape and offering sarcastic commentary.

“Maybe if you’d let me do it, we wouldn’t be out here for an hour,” Cleo teased, tilting her head.

“And maybe if you didn’t talk so much, I could concentrate, baby.”

JJ was dragging a cooler across the sand, muttering something about how “beer doesn’t carry itself,” while Kie followed behind him, laughing and tossing bags of chips into a pile on the picnic table.

Sarah joined you on the porch, a can of sparkling water in her hand. “See? We’ve got it under control,” she said, gesturing to the scene in front of you. “Now, sit down, relax, and enjoy the show.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about you? Aren’t you gonna take your own advice?”

Sarah grinned, “I’ll relax when the party starts. For now, my mission is to make sure you don’t lift a finger.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love me,” she replied, linking her arm through yours.

And she wasn’t wrong. As much as you hated being doted on, it was hard not to appreciate everything she’d been doing for you.

Cleo spotted you from across the yard and waved, her smile wide and warm. “Yo! You gonna come hang out or just stand there looking pretty?”

“Both,” JJ called out, smirking as he cracked open a beer.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. 

“I said pretty, rude boy. It doesn’t include your ass.”

“Cleo, you wound me. I thought we had something special.”

“Yeah, it’s called my patience, and it’s runnin’ real thin,” Cleo yelled back, smirking as she handed Pope the tape. “Here. Fix your mess before the whole damn tree comes down.”

Pope muttered something under his breath but took the tape anyway, climbing back onto the ladder. “You could’ve just done this yourself if you were so sure about it.”

“And rob you of the chance to prove me wrong? Never,” Cleo quipped, crossing her arms as she stepped back to watch him work.

The two of you headed toward the table where Kie was busy arranging snacks, her brows furrowed in concentration.

“How are we still out of guac?” She muttered, her tone more annoyed than concerned. “I swear I made enough to feed an army.”

“Your boyfriend happened,” Sarah said without missing a beat. “I saw him sneak off with a bowl earlier.”

Kie groaned, hands on her hips as she glared at the blonde boy, who was now lounging in a chair with his feet propped up on the cooler.

“You are a menace to society.”

“And yet, here I am, invited to all your parties,” JJ replied, raising his beer in a mock toast. 

Kie grabbed a chip and threw it at him, hitting him square in the forehead, "It's your party too, dick."

“Guys,” Pope called out from the ladder, sounding exasperated. “Can someone just hold the other end of the lights? I’m not trying to die out here.”

“I got it,” Cleo said, strolling over and grabbing the string of lights. “Don’t let go of that tape, or you’re on your own.”

Cleo had finally climbed up the ladder with Pope, muttering something sarcastic, only for him to pull her into a quick kiss that made her giggle.

It wasn’t long before everyone started getting ready for the party. It was only around 3:30, but you could tell everyone was in full-on prep mode, running around and grabbing last-minute things. You figured you should probably start getting ready, too, if you wanted to make it to the party without looking completely out of it.

You escaped, fully aware that Sarah would check on you soon if you didn’t start moving. Sitting on the bed, you scrolled aimlessly for outfit inspiration, but everything felt wrong—too tight, too flashy, or too… not you. You hadn’t exactly packed for a pogues-style party, and the thought of showing up in your worn-out jeans or one of John B’s oversized T-shirts made you shudder.

Sarah’s closet caught your eye, the door slightly ajar. A beacon of decent fashion that you knew was still hiding in there, despite her efforts to shed the kook label. She still had a few relics from her old life, buried beneath tie-dye and frayed denim.

You’d teased her about it last week, calling her out for keeping a little piece of her former self tucked away. She’d rolled her eyes and said, “A girl’s gotta have options.”

Today, you needed those options.

You bypassed the flashier options in favor of something understated. Nestled between a linen sundress and a denim jacket was exactly what you needed: a simple, fitted black dress. It was sleeveless, with a subtle scoop neckline and a hemline that hit just above the knee. The fabric was soft and unassuming but hugged your frame just right, giving it a quietly polished look.

“This one,” you murmured, pulling it off the hanger. It wasn’t loud or overly attention-grabbing—more like the kind of dress that someone who didn’t need to try would wear. 

Elegant, minimal, perfect.

Sliding it on, you immediately felt the difference. It didn’t scream for attention, but it made you feel put together, which was exactly what you needed right now. You ran your hands over the fabric, smoothing out any wrinkles before stepping into a pair of nude sandals you’d found shoved in the back of the closet. Flat, simple, and mercifully easy to walk in.

Sarah popped her head in just as you were brushing your hair out into soft waves. “There she is,” she said, giving you a once-over. “God forbid you wear something ugly, huh?”

You tugged lightly at the hem of the dress. “I’m doing this closet justice.”

“You are. I forgot I even had that dress or I would've given it away."

“Thank God for that,” you replied, slipping on a simple gold bracelet you found on her dresser. “The pogues' style is great and all, but I have my limits.” You hadn’t even touched your makeup yet. With a sigh, you glanced at Sarah. “I’ll be ready in five.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t tease, already heading downstairs to check on the others. You glanced at the clock—it was almost party time, but you needed a few more minutes to look presentable.

You grabbed her makeup bag from her vanity and settled in front of the mirror. Starting with a light layer of foundation, you evened out your complexion. You weren’t trying to hide anything; you just needed to look less like you’d just rolled out of bed.

For the first time in what felt like years, you weren’t thinking about the baby. You weren’t worrying about keeping your secret from Rafe or everyone else around you. You weren’t wrapped up in the anxiety of it all. Instead, you were just doing something that felt simple, that belonged to your age—putting on makeup, getting ready for a party, like a normal twenty-year-old something woman.

This was the most normal you’d felt in months.

You’d been so consumed with everything pregnancy-related, trying to stay on top of your emotions while dealing with the fear of being found out. It was exhausting. You had forgotten what it felt like to be carefree, to be you—not just someone wrapped up in worry. There was something so familiar about it—the way the brush swept across your skin, the way you mixed your bronzer just right to highlight your cheekbones. It felt like the old you. Who knew this shit could be so therapeutic?

A soft sigh slipped from your lips. You needed more moments like this. Simple, easy moments where you didn’t have to think about the rest of the world. Just doing your makeup. Just getting dressed. Just being you—even for a little while.

When you made your way downstairs again, the mess had somehow multiplied. The house was alive with movement, and the sound of JJ yelling something unintelligible from the backyard. People had already started arriving—pogues, and a handful of kooks who never missed a good party. You spotted Sarah in the kitchen, pouring drinks into a massive punch bowl, looking entirely in her element.

You sidled up to Kie, who was setting out plates of food with military precision. “Hey, you need any help with this? Or anything, really?”

Kie glanced up, her brows shooting toward her hairline as she appraised you. “Is this the control freak in you?”

“Funny,” you deadpanned, leaning on the counter. “Seriously, though. Put me to work.”

She snorted, grabbing a handful of napkins and shoving them into your hands. “Fine. You can help set these out on the tables outside. But if Sarah catches you, this conversation didn’t happen.”

“Deal.” 

The yard looked like something out of a fever dream. String lights were half-strung between trees, chairs and tables were scattered everywhere. A cooler sat precariously close to tipping over, its contents already being raided by JJ, who was popping open another beer while Cleo scolded him for being “absolutely useless.”

You moved through the yard, laying out napkins and straightening plates, feeling some of the earlier tension and sleep deprivation ease from your back. It felt good to do something normal, something productive. By the time you circled back to the porch, Sarah was waiting for you, hands on her hips and a knowing look in her eyes. “I thought I told you to sit down.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “Kie needed help. I’m fine.”

Sarah didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push it. Instead, she handed you a cup of water and gestured toward one of the chairs on the porch. “At least pretend you’re taking it easy, okay? You’re gonna need your energy when this party really gets going.”

You rolled your eyes but took the seat, sipping the drink as you watched the guests buzz around the yard. 

Cleo and Kiara were already in tears laughing as JJ dramatically narrated Pope’s “world record attempt,” complete with fake announcer voice. By the time Pope finally flipped upside down with his help, everyone was cheering loud enough to drown out the music blasting from the backyard speakers.

JJ was yelling something about “legendary keg stand form” as Pope balanced upside down on the keg, supported by Cleo and a very unenthused Kie.

It was hilarious watching his usually composed demeanor dissolve into giggles as beer dripped down his face, but even funnier was JJ hyping him up like this was the Olympics. “That’s my boy! New record! Somebody time this shit!”

You laughed, for once letting yourself enjoy the day. It felt good to be surrounded by fun, to not be caught up in your head for a change. Maybe Sarah had been right—you needed this.

For once, you were wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. It felt so good to do it too, to feel like you were part of something instead of just watching from the sidelines. You could breathe again.

Pope wobbled, barely lasting ten seconds before collapsing onto the grass. JJ threw his arms up like they’d just won the championship, shouting, “A legend was born tonight!”

You felt all the stress and heaviness you’d been dragging and moping around had finally been put on pause.

Then, subtle at first, a tickle at the back of your neck, a whisper of unease. You moved around on the railing, trying to shake it off. You glanced around, casually at first, scanning the crowd. Everyone seemed caught up in something—JJ was on his third keg stand attempt, Kie and Cleo were busy arguing over the playlist, and the rest of the partygoers were either dancing or clustered around the fire pit.

Nothing out of the ordinary. You tried to ignore it at first, brushing it off as your brain’s way of being a buzzkill. It had a way of doing that—ruining a perfectly good night with its tendency to overanalyze everything.  You were having a good time, and you weren’t about to let paranoia ruin it.

But then you spotted her, Sofia.

She was standing near the back door, lit by the string lights strung across the porch, holding a beer cup. And she was staring at you.

Not just a quick glance, not the way someone looks when they’re zoning out. No. This was…staring. Your stomach twisted. This couldn’t be about you, she was just drunk and in her feelings or whatever. But there was something about the way she looked—sad, almost heartbroken—that made you want to bolt home.

You turned away, feeling like you couldn’t breathe, the night wasn’t as fun anymore. Maybe she wasn’t even looking at you. Except, you couldn’t shake it. You drained the rest of your water and headed inside to refill it, telling yourself you needed a second to breathe.

But of course, the second you stepped into the kitchen, Sofia was there.

She was crying—full-on crying—her mascara smudged and her cheeks streaked with tears. She was drunk, that much was obvious, so drunk she had to grab the counter.

Jesus.

 “Uh…? Are you okay?”

You weren’t Sofia’s biggest fan.

She had the love of your life—the guy you’d once thought was it for you—and that alone made it impossible to feel anything but complicated about her. Add to that the fact that she was a pogue, and… you’d never been friends.

The last thing you wanted to do tonight was play therapist, especially not for her. But she was still a girl, drunk and crying in the middle of a party, and no matter how much history—or lack thereof—existed between you, there was no way you were going to leave her like that.

You sighed, setting your cup down on the counter, “Do you need to sit down? Water?”

She only sobbed harder. Okay, not helping, noted.

“Hey, sit down,” you murmured, guiding her to the bench by the window. She didn’t resist, collapsing onto it.

Her eyes glassy and red. She looked up at you like you were the last person she wanted to see, but also, somehow, the only one she needed.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, her voice cracked. “I shouldn’t—this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You crouched down in front of her, arms resting on your knees as you tried to figure out what the hell she meant. “What wasn’t supposed to happen? Did someone do something to you?”

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head hard enough to make her curls bounce. “No, it’s not like that. It’s just… it’s Rafe. He—” Her voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands.

The second she said his name—Rafe—you already knew.

You didn’t know the details, didn’t need them, but you knew it was going to hurt like a bitch. That name always did.

Sofia’s voice cracked again, her words coming out between hiccuping breaths and slurred apologies, but you’d already braced yourself for whatever you were about to hear.

And yet, when she finally said it—he dumped me—it still felt like someone had thrown a bucket of water in your face.

What the fuck were you supposed to say to that?

"I’m not sure what you want me to do with this."

She flinched, her glassy eyes darting up to meet yours, but she didn’t say anything, just sniffled and stared at you like you had all the answers. You didn’t. Not for her.

"You’re upset, I get that," you continued, "But coming to me about Rafe? Really? What did you think was going to happen here?"

Her lip trembled, you thought she might start wailing again. "I—I didn’t plan this, okay? I just… I didn’t know who else to—"

On one hand, you felt bad for her.

How could you not? She was drunk, sobbing, in a way that felt painfully familiar. But on the other hand… what the fuck did she expect? She’d dated Rafe—your Rafe—knowing you were a six-year-long shadow she could never step out of.

She was with him knowing now she wanted you to what? Comfort her? Be her shoulder to cry on?

This wasn’t the time to be petty or mean, not when she was looking at you like you were the only person who could possibly understand.

“H-he dumped me,” she repeated, her voice cracking. “said… he said he’s not over you. That he c-can’t give me what I d-deserve because… because his heart’s still with you.”

You pursed your lips, a tangled knot of guilt, and something dangerously close to vindication swimming in your head.

Of course, it felt good to hear it—of course it did. But that didn’t make it easier to watch another girl fall apart in front of you because of him. As pathetic as it was, you knew what it felt like to be that girl.

You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back the snarky comment sitting on your tongue. As much as this whole thing screamed bad decision after bad decision, she was still here, crying her eyes out, and you weren’t heartless. Not entirely, anyway.

“I knew,” she whispered, “I knew he wasn’t over you. From the beginning. I thought I c-could… I don’t know. Change his mind?” She let out a choked sob. “I’m sittin' h-here, drunk and crying to you, of all people, because I d-didn’t li-isten to my gut when it told me to walk away. I’m sorry,” she blubbered, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her shirt. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with this. You probably hate me.”

You didn’t answer right away because, yeah, she wasn’t entirely wrong. You didn’t like her, that was for damn sure. But hate? Hate took too much energy.

You didn’t know what to say to that. Couldn’t say what you really thought—that she should’ve walked away, that no one could ever fill a space someone else left behind. So instead, you sat down beside her.

“I know it doesn’t help,” you said finally, “but it’s not your fault. Rafe… he’s complicated. He doesn’t know what he wants half the time, and even when he does, he’s too scared to hold on to it.”

She looked at you through teary eyes. “He held on to you for years.”

“Yeah. And look how that turned out.”

"If this is how I feel now, I can’t even imagine what you went through."

You bit your lip. She honestly thought this was the time for some heartfelt apology? God, bless her heart—no, scratch that, bless her delusions. She was standing there, looking like a wet mess, telling you she couldn’t imagine how you felt? If only she knew.

You sighed, grabbing a towel from the counter and tossing it at her. "Here. Fix your face. You look like you’ve been crying in a frat basement."

She caught the towel, her cheeks burning as she dabbed at her ruined makeup. "I—thanks," Her voice shook as she continued her drunk ramble, "I didn’t know... I didn’t realize how bad it hurt you."

You took a breath, part of you wanting to snap at her, tell her it was too little, too late. You could’ve easily unleashed all the venom you’d kept inside for so long. But then, there was that little voice in your head—one that, surprisingly, wasn’t making fun of her. You couldn’t be that cruel, you weren’t heartless, no matter how complicated things had gotten.

Sofia, in this state—drunk, emotional—didn’t deserve that. 

"You need to get your shit together, stop letting your entire world revolve around him.” You could see her flinch at that last part, but you weren’t done yet.

How ironic.

"You’re better than this. You don’t need a guy—especially Rafe—to make you feel whole. I learned something, and you’re going to learn it too. Life doesn’t revolve around some guy’s bullshit feelings. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be, put yourself first, always. I’ve been there. You’ve got to live with the fact that he chose someone else. It doesn’t matter if you did everything right—sometimes, it’s just not enough."

There was a part of you that really felt sorry for her, the part that was human, not just jaded from all the pain. But there was also a voice in your head saying, You don’t owe her understanding.

Loving Rafe Cameron could feel like the best and worst thing at the same time.

You watch her carefully, making sure she’s soaking it in. "You deserve better than a guy who doesn't know how to value you. And don’t get me wrong, I get it. We’ve all been there. You can’t fix him."

Sofia was still sniffling and wiping her eyes, catching her breath, maybe even trying to piece things together. You felt like you had done something... good? Maybe not good, but at least you’d been the bigger person, showing her a bit of mercy.

Before she could answer, the door creaked, and you both turned to see your cousin standing there. Instantly, all alarm bells went off in your head, your eyes narrowing instantly, hands searching for something to throw at his face.

"Topper," you spit out, the name coming out like acid, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

ooop- y'all not ready for chapter 12 heheheh

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige

@rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron

@serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog

@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[chaepink]

Sub bully gojo like he was planning on fucking and bullying reader when the opposite went way? Like reader had enough of his bullshit and makes him cry and overstimulates him?

Loser | sub!gojo satoru

wc: 2.9k+ words | masterlist

dom!gn!reader, mean!reader -> soft!reader, bully!gojo kinda but he’s more annoying then actually bullying, crying, footjob except he’s clothed, cumming in pants, college au, edging, comparing gojo to a puppy, degradation, praise, exhibitionism, overstimulation, knocking Gojo down a peg, teasing, cursing, mention of reader being shorter than gojo but not important, ooc gojo(?)

note : the writing may be weird… its been a while 😬

"Well well well, look who it is!" You grimace at the all too familiar voice and try to quickly turn the corner but a hand grabs your hand and turns you around, causing you to stumble back slightly but you catch yourself in time.

Furrowing your eyebrows and frowning in annoyance, you eye the person who stopped you: Gojo fucking Satoru. He’s the guy who’s been making your college life a living hell ever since he found out you two went to the same high school. Even though there were several other students here who also went to the same high school, he decided to annoy you for some reason.

The other students in the hallway quickly shuffle to their next classes or to lunch, too afraid to say something that’ll result in Gojo picking on them instead. Of course, they're scared, Gojo is known as a bully who somehow has good relationships with the teachers, an advantage he uses daily. The hallway is deserted now with only you two standing in. You hear the bell ring loudly throughout and your eyes dart to the clock on the wall. Damn it, you’re late to class now.

“Hey! Look at me, bitch.” You scowl deeply as your attention turns back to Gojo. You wonder if he’s aware of his childish personality or not. You assume he doesn’t by the way he continues to act like a toddler.

“What the hell do you want?” You reply, annoyance clear as day on your face. A grin spreads across his face when he sees your attention back on him. God, he loves the way you look at him like that. He quickly shoves the thought to the back of his head.

“In a bad mood today, huh?” He teases, that annoying grin still prominent on his face and you clench your fist into a ball, wanting to punch that grin off his stupid face though you know you can’t. He would just go running to the teachers and higher-ups and get you in trouble somehow.

You let out a small scoff and continue to glare at him before he talks again.

“What? You really think I’m gonna annoy you today?” He smirks and slowly walks closer to you but you grimace. He leans his head down slightly and you frown deeper. You’re already annoying me with your presence, you want to say.

“You should smile more, it’ll make you more pleasant to look at for once, [name]-” He could barely finish his sentence before your anger got the best of you. How dare he act like nothing’s happened?

“What is your fucking problem, you bastard?” You sneer at him as you shove his chest hard, causing him to widen his eyes at your sudden action and stumble backwards before tripping over his feet and falling to the ground on his bottom, his feet on the floor with his knees bent towards the ceiling and his hands behind him to stabilize himself. His legs are spread out slightly and he winces at the sudden impact.

If your mind wasn’t so flooded with anger right now, you would think that Gojo looks rather hot on the ground staring up at you with a flushed face and widened eyes.

Shit, he didn’t mean for you to get this pissed off. He was planning to ask you to come over to his house later or something. Usually you just ignore him and walk off quietly, he didn’t expect this at all. Why are you getting mad? Haven’t you gotten the hint that he bullies you cause he likes you?

You step a foot down awfully near his crotch and he flinches, staring at it with a red face but you don’t notice. You see his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallows harshly. He looks back up at you but quickly looks away when he sees you staring at him so intensely and you’re surprised just how easily he shut up from a simple shove to the ground. Maybe he’s more simple than you thought.

You see his chest rise up and down quickly. The silence is thick and heavy in the air with the sound of his breathing and your own heart beating rapidly in your chest the only noises you hear. The way he refuses to look at you, how red he is, and the way his legs slightly tremble gives you the wrong idea.

Does… seeing you towering over him and staring down at him turn him on somehow? No way, you think.

But when your eyes trail down from his still flushed face down his body and to the place between his spread legs, your idea is confirmed.

“Who said you could get fucking hard right now?” Gojo flinches and his eyes widen, quickly looking down at the rather large bulge in his pants. He tries to cover it with his hands but you quickly kick them away, resulting in his legs spreading even further apart.

Good thing that you’re at one of the more secluded and quiet areas of the school and that not many students nor teachers have classes here.

It’s odd. It’s really odd. How although he could easily get up and run away or even shove you back and say some mean things to you again, he’s not. He’s not doing any of that, just sitting on the ground in front of you like he enjoys it. And a part of you is starting to enjoy the situation as well.

You suddenly remember how although there’s no one in the hallway, there are still some students and teachers in the classrooms near you guys. It seems you two haven’t been loud enough to attract their attention but you know that at any moment, someone could step out into the hallway and spot you two. Though the thought just spurs you on even more.

He hesitates before glancing up at you and swallows again before glancing back at your shoe and it gives you an idea. Without thinking, you lift your foot and press it down on his crotch. The action immediately makes Gojo let out a deep groan and cover his mouth with his hand, his eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. The sight makes something in your stomach stir although you are still annoyed by his past actions.

Slowly, he opens his eyes back and stares at you, his eyes more soft than before. He puts his hand down and opens his mouth to talk but you notice how he hesitates.

“C-Could we ngh do this in a classroom-“

You quickly cut him off with a scoff. “Really? Do you really think I’m gonna take pity on you after you annoyed me everyday of my college life? It’s not my fault you got hard from just a shove.” You sneer in disgust, making Gojo shiver. “Maybe I should return the favor somehow.” Gojo’s breath hitches in his throat when he sees the anger in your eyes and the way you’re glaring down at him like he’s some sort of useless piece of trash. He feels something throb in his pants.

You suddenly smirk and Gojo has to hold back a whine from the way you look so scary but so hot at the same time.

“I wonder what everyone would think if they were to see you right now, pitifully on the floor like a fucking puppy,” you spit out.

Gojo squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to imagine the sheer shock on everyone’s faces if they were to stumble across him like this in the hallway. But oh God, the way you compare him to a puppy has his stomach fluttering and something else throbbing again.

He opens his eyes again and lets out the most pitiful whine you’ve ever heard and oh does it sound heavenly coming from someone you despise.

“Please?” You contemplate it. As much as you would rather stay in the hallway and ruin him here, you know that if you two were to be caught, you would face suspension and it would ruin your reputation even more. With a sigh and frown, you glance around and spot a dark classroom. Bingo.

You point to it and Gojo’s eyes dart to the empty room, his breathing still fast. He quickly understands it and slowly gets up from the floor.

“Go inside.” It wasn’t a statement, it was an order. He nods and he walks in, glancing behind him to make sure you’re following him inside. As you go into the room, you close the door and lock it, turning back to see Gojo already on the floor on his knees and it makes your heart quicken.

Walking up to him, you before him and immediately return your foot back on his crotch and press down. Gojo lets out a breathy curse from his lips and gasps, his hands obediently at his sides, clenching into fists tightly.

He’s embarrassed at himself for being so easy for you, already at your knees after his plan backfired on him but he’s not complaining. Not when your foot presses down harder which forces a moan out from him and makes his mind foggy. He’s close already. He tells you that and he blushes when you laugh.

“Already? How pathetic,” you tease. “And I thought I would at least get to see you naked first.” The idea of him being fully naked and you fully clothed makes him whimper and he’s quick to open his mouth to beg to get naked for you but you cut him off.

“But I don't think you deserve it after everything you’ve done. You’ll cum from my foot and without taking a piece of clothing off, understood?” He nods before he understands what you said and widens his eyes when he processes it.

“But-” “But?” You raise an eyebrow, daring him to disagree which shuts him right up. You smile and grind your shoe back down on his bulge. “Good, now go on. I know you’re just aching to get some friction, yeah?”

He nods again and doesn’t hesitate for a moment before bucking his hips up against your foot, letting out a soft cry as the pleasure shoots through his body. You keep your foot still and let him do all the work and he lets out a loud moan when a particular thrust has his precum leaking out and dampening his pants.

You feel him twitch underneath your foot and smirk in amusement. “Quiet now, it's still school time, remember?” The reminder has him whimpering, wanting to let out loud noises for you but understanding the environment. You can tell he’s close from the way he’s practically begging with those puppy eyes of his.

“P-Please?” “Please what, Gojo?” He lets out another soft cry, the pleasure being too much. His mind is so foggy from the fact that you two are in an empty classroom and can get caught at any moment and how he can’t let out loud noises like he wants and the feeling of his dick being so hard, it hurts.

And now you’re teasing him. How mean, he wants to say to you. But the chances that you get mad again and leave him here in the classroom by himself with a hard dick is too high. So he begs.

“Please let me cum? Please? I-I’ve been good-” You laugh again. He hasn’t been good at all to you but he has been good at not touching you and keeping quiet. So maybe you’ll take pity on him. Maybe.

“Hm should I?” You pretend to think and Gojo moans, his pace quickening against your foot and he nods frantically. “I don’t think I should.” The second you take your foot off him, Gojo swears he’s close to crying right then and there. His hands subconsciously dart out from his sides to reach for your ankle but your sharp glare stops him.

So instead, he whimpers as tears prickle the corner of his eyes, his dick aching for release. You smirk at the sight.

“Beg for it, Gojo. Unless you want me to leave.” He obeys yet again, almost too eagerly this time that it almost makes you laugh. Geez, knocking Gojo down his high horse is way more fun than you thought it would be.

“[Name] please? Please please please i'll be such a good boy for you i promise!” It’s cute, seeing his glossy eyes and parted lips as he pants like a puppy for you. You swear you see a glimpse of a tail behind him wagging eagerly.

“Do whatever you want to me! Just let me cum, please!” With a smile, you place your foot back on his bulge and press down hard.

He throws his head back with a whimper and he swears he sees stars as his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Ah!- T-Thank you ngh” He goes back to his previous quick pace again and it’s not long till he’s close again. He squeezes his eyes shut, not trusting himself to not have them roll back and he hesitantly places his hands around your ankle to keep it there, refusing for you to pull away again. You click your tongue in disapproval but don’t say anything about it which he is grateful about.

“I’m gonna cum im gonna cum-” He babbles out as he continues to rut against your foot like a dog in heat. “Such a good boy for me, telling me that you’re close and not cuming without permission.,” you praise and you swear his hips stutters at that. A sucker for praise, it seems.

His eyes shoot open and it's clear what he’s begging for. “Go on, cum.”

And he does almost immediately. One of his hands shoots up to cover his mouth as he muffles his choked moans and whimpers and your eyes look down to see the spot where his crotch is quickly dampening as he cums.

But you don’t stop, you actually speed up. Gojo feels your foot continuing to grind down on his now damp crotch and he can barely hold on, his hand dropping from his mouth back to hastily hold onto your leg. His eyes widen and curses sputter out of his mouth in stutters.

“S-Shit wait! I’m ngh not ready-” You grab a handful of his hair and yank on it hard, forcing him to look directly at you and let out a rather loud whine. He stares at you with tears ready to fall down his face and oh does he look good like this. He’s on his knees, his hips bucking up to your foot as if he didn’t just say he’s not ready, face flushed such a pretty pink as he stares up at you like you own him. The tight grip you have on his hair has his scalp prickling in pain in such a good way that he almost begs for you to yank harder but another moan escapes him before he can.

“Come on, you were begging so nicely earlier,” you say mockingly, a feign pout on your face as you stare down at the once confident man. “Don’t you want to cum again? I think you got some more in you, yeah?”

He immediately nods and lets out a cry when you step down even harder on his clothed dick and pull on his hair harder. Shit, he’s already close again, the overstimulation getting to him and making it feel all so much better. He can barely even talk or speak full sentences anymore, only letting out mainly whines and whimpers and a few babbles here and there.

Each tug of your hand, grind of your shoe, and praise or degradation you graciously give to him has him soon crying out of pure pleasure. Tears streak down his face slowly as he gets closer to cumming again. You’re almost jealous of how pretty he still is while crying.

“Cum.” That’s all he needs to hear before his hips stutter again and he lets out a quiet sob, cumming for the second time and staining his pants even more.

His pace slows down before stopping, his breath slowing down. He slowly leans forward to lean his cheek against your leg and your breath hitches at the sight. You can feel his hot breath against your leg as he stares up at you with hooded eyes and flushed cheeks. He’s mumbling under his breath and you swear you hear “thank you’s” coming out quietly.

You can’t help but lean down slightly and run your hand through his hair, hearing a soft hum coming from him as he sighs when your hand moves down to caress his damp cheek, nuzzling against it.

The sudden sound of the school bell ringing snaps you two out of the trance. Right, you two are still at school in an empty classroom. You hear the other students rush out of the nearby classes to leave and return home and you’re glad that you two aren’t in view of the door window.

You hear a sigh coming from Gojo and you look back at him and see him smile up at you.

“I… enjoyed that,” he murmurs shyly and you can't help but smile. “You did so good for me.” He whines and blushes and you swear you feel another twitch from his crotch.

Let's just say that you two continued to meet at that spot many times after that.

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[hyprfixate]

for the taking :: [B.C] x [H.J] x [K.S] x reader

read on AO3

summary: of your three boyfriends, you like to push chan's buttons the most so that he'll really get things going. you sadly underestimate how wild things can get when you rile him up.

pairing: kim seungmin x bang chan x han jisung x reader

tropes: poly!skz mmmf foursome, porn without plot

smut warnings: mentioned free use dynamics, dacryphilia, dom/sub dynamics, brat play, overstimulation x100000, pussy eating, implied mxm dynamics, dom jisung, soft dom/sadist seungmin, hard dom/brat tamer chan, mentions of safewords (it's not used), unprotected sex but it's a long established relationship, reader initiated slight cnc, dirty talk, reader is called a slut as a degradation thing. it's really just pure filthy, not a plot point in sight.

author's note: i didn't plan to write this at all. idk where it came from. enjoy anyway!!

word count: 8.7k

You're laying on your stomach in your bedroom. The lights are dim, music is thrumming from your speaker, and there's a candle on your wax warmer.  It's a quiet, soft night, the kind that you don't see many of. There's always something going on in the duplex you share with your partners. It can be tiring, but in the quiet, you realize you sort of miss it. You fiddle with the green beaded bracelet on your wrist as you scroll aimlessly through your phone.

Then, the door across the hall slams.

Only you and Chan are home tonight, Seungmin and Jisung off God-knows-where for whatever reason. Chan was supposed to go out with them, but he had a project to finish for his job, the same project that had him losing sleep for the last few weeks. You may never understand what exactly goes into producing music, but from the way he stayed hunched over his computer 24/7, you knew it was complicated.

You're not at all surprised when you hear your door creak open slowly. You turn over, eyes catching Chan's as he stands in your doorway with his arms folded across his chest. He's wearing a haberdash of house clothes, including a baseball cap, but you can still see the dark tint on his eyes.

You feign innocence.

“Hey you,” you smile at him. “Taking a break?”

“Something like that. What're you doing?”

You shift your phone to the hand with your bracelet, holding it up and giving it a little shake. His gaze hardens even more. “Just on Instagram.”

His eyes are trained on your wrist, just like you wanted. He recognizes the bracelet. Of course he does– he and the boys bought it for you after one of your many, many conversations. You give a little smile. "It's cute, right? The green matches my t-shirt," you say sweetly. 

It does, but that's not the only reason you're wearing it.

You're wearing it because they know that green means go. Or yes. 

Or take.

"Did you need something, Chan?"

He doesn't respond, choosing instead to push up off of the doorframe and make his way over to you. You decide to roll onto your back to see him better, and by the time you're situated, he's standing over you, arms still crossed.

You gulp.

"Um, hi," you breathe out. Nervousness was not part of the plan. "I– Did you... need something?"

He drops one of his hands and grips your ankle, and where the skin connects you feel like you've been electrocuted. Your body comes alive immediately. You can only watch as he barely strains a single muscle as he pulls you down to the edge of the bed.

"Put your phone down," he instructs. He reaches the soft part of your thigh and pinches, lips curling into a smirk when you yelp.

"Channie, I—"

"I said," he repeats, a little harsher this time, "put your phone down."

You do as you're told, dropping it on the floor next to his feet. He keeps pulling until your entire lower half is hanging off the bed. With your legs spread like they are, you're certain he can feel the pulsing coming from between your legs.

He hums.

"You know why I'm here," he says lowly. It's not a question.

Despite the speed of your heart, you blink up at him dumbly, fighting against the wave of arousal that licks down your spine when he raises an eyebrow.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you manage.

Both of his eyebrows are up now, his expression seemingly surprised for a second before it fades. He nods lightly, almost as though contemplating what you've said, and then he releases you and takes a step back.

Your heart drops for a second. You think you've messed up somehow, or maybe your tone didn't come out right. You're about to backtrack, but then he's back, hooking his fingers into either side of your waistband, and with one simple tug he has your pajama pants completely off. 

If Chan is surprised that you're not wearing any underwear, he doesn't show it.

You gasp when the cool air hits your lower body, and you watch as he smirks. He returns his vice like grip on your ankle when you start to squirm under his gaze. 

"I see you still like to pretend that you have some ounce of control in this relationship," he deadpans. He tugs you back down the bed when you try to wiggle away. You're embarrassed that his strength doesn't seem to be affected by his sleep deprivation. "Come on, baby. You know better than that."

You fight back the giddy smile that threatens to take over your face at his voice. "I don't know what you're talking about," you lie. "Why're you bothering me? Don't you have work to do?"

"I can't focus," he says smoothly. "I couldn't stop thinking about you while I was working. About how much easier work might be if I could fuck you to clear my head."

"That's too bad," you shrug, hoping he can't see how you're clenching around nothing. "I was busy."

He hums absentmindedly, letting the hand on your ankle travel higher. He runs his fingers up your calf, then your knee, until finally he hooks the inside of his wrist behind it, forcing your legs to part. You gasp and try to snap them closed, but he only has to shift a bit so that his other hand is on your opposite leg, holding you open for him.

"Why do you always act like you're not dying for me to touch you, hm?" he asks, but it's rhetorical.  He knows you don't have an answer. You never do. Even so, when you stay quiet, he huffs out a humorless laugh.

"Okay. I'm going to give you two options, because I'm feeling generous." He holds up one finger. "Option one, you admit you're just being a brat, I'll fuck it out of you, and then we can both go back to what we were doing. Or–"

You whine as he abruptly leans down with your legs still in his hands, effectively folding you in half. "Or, option two, you keep it up, and I can tell the boys to come home. Then we'll make this a lot longer than it needs to be."

Chan is dangerously close to your face now. The brim of his hat is touching your forehead. You're almost sure he can feel your heartbeat through the fabric of both of your shirts.

"So what do you want, princess?" he asks, voice dripping with honey. 

You shiver. His gaze is so intense you forget how to breathe. At your silence, he yanks you further into him, pressing himself right up against your uncovered cunt. Even through his basketball shorts you feel the unmistakable heat of his erection.

"I said, what do you want?"

Fuck.

You can't take it anymore. You feel like you're burning with need. "I'm sorry, Channie," you whine out. You can see the fire in his eyes, the way he's so worked up already, and it makes you weak. "I'll be good."

He gives you a sweet smile, leaning forward to press a kiss against your mouth. You sigh into it, letting your body go lax so he can take control. 

Despite your attempts, brattiness never lasts long with Chan. With Seungmin and Jisung, you love the challenge, love making them crack and beg a little, but Chan is entirely unrelenting. You know better than to get him too riled up, especially if you actually want anything to happen.

The kiss is a stark contrast to what you know is to come, and you know that it's on purpose. He always likes to give you the chance to back out, a way to change your mind. Bracelet or no bracelet, your comfort is still always his first priority. It's what makes you comfortable enough to tease him.

But when he pulls away from the kiss and you chase after his mouth, he only smiles.

"There's my good girl," he says. He releases your knees and presses a kiss against your cheek, and then the tip of your nose.

"Chan," you whine. Your body feels cold where his hands just were.

He only tilts his head when he looks at you. "Hm?" Then his gaze turns sinister. "Did you... need something, princess?"

Oh. 

Shit.

"Wait,” You're scrambling up from your position. “Wait, please, Chan, don't–"

He hums. "You were so mean to me," he says, trailing a single finger down your cheek. "I don't think you deserve anything from me."

You attempt to sit up, eyes widening, but he's keeping you pinned down on your bed. "But I said I'm sorry," you whine. "Channie, please, I'll be good--"

He tilts his head again, pretending to think, letting his hand fall down your face to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"No," he decides, and he straightens up, taking a step back. "I think I'm gonna go back to work."

Before you can grab him, he's slipped away, nearly halfway to your door. "Sorry, babygirl. Maybe next time, yeah?"

The smirk on his face is proof he's anything but sorry. He gives you a fake little pout before winking and stepping out of your room, clicking the door closed behind him.

You're sat up on the bed, staring at the door with your jaw slacked. This is a new level of evil, you think. You hear his bedroom door open and shut, then the muffled sound of the track he's working on vibrates the walls.

It takes longer than you'd like for your wits to come back to you, but when they do, you're both utterly gobsmacked and thoroughly impressed.

He's teasing you.

There's a part of you that's tempted to just give in, to make your way across the hall and apologize. Chan is stubborn, but not unreachable. You know if you march into his room, you could get on your knees and make him relent in seconds.

But fine. He wants to play dirty?

You can play dirty, too.

-

It's less than an hour later when you hear the front door open and shut, the sound of Jisung and Seungmin's voices carrying up the stairs. You hear takeout bags and the jingling of their keys, and then–

“We're home!”

You make no effort to move, waiting to see if Chan will leave his room first. Besides, you're still working through some of the details of your plan.

If you stay in your room, Seungmin would come upstairs to check on you first. You know he'll fuck you good, but it takes time to warm him up. By the time you start getting anywhere, Jisung will get to Chan, who might do something stupid like tell him that you were being a brat, and then he'll come in and ruin the whole thing.

No, you need eager. You need impulsive.

You need Jisung.

You pad to the bedroom door, opening it and sticking your head out. Chan's door is still closed, the track he's working on still pumping through the speakers, so you take the opportunity to get the ball rolling.

You make your way down the hall and to the top of the stairs, where you can see Jisung standing in the entryway of the kitchen. The two have already shed their jackets and shoes, and Seungmin is now busy unloading the food they brought back into the fridge. His back is turned to you.

Bingo.

"Hey," you say softly. Jisung's head whips up, eyes brightening as he spots you. He says something you can't hear to Seungmin before he's jogging up the stairs towards you. He scoops you into a squeezing hug.

"Hi my baby," he says happily, pressing a kiss against your forehead. "How was your day?"

You giggle in the hug. "It was alright. Kind of boring. How was yours?"

"We had fun," he says. He sets you down and leans against the wall next to you, reaching and catching your hand in his. You deliberately give him the hand with the bracelet, but he doesn't see it. "I missed you though."

"I missed you, too."

Jisung grins. He opens his mouth to speak again, but then he furrows his eyebrows when he looks at you, like he's just noticing something.

"Is that my shirt?"

“Is it?” You look down, feigning surprise. "Oh, yeah I guess it is."

He hums, tilting his head. His eyes trail to your hand, and he finally seems to notice the bracelet on your wrist. "That's weird. I could've sworn I saw it in my drawer this morning."

You shrug. "Maybe you're just losing your mind."

He grins, bringing your hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss against your open palm. "Yeah, maybe. Or are you trying to tell me something?"

You bat your eyelashes up at him. "Am I?"

His smile turns sly. "You are, aren't you?"

Jisung doesn't wait for a response, clasping his hand around yours and pulling you down the hallway back into your room. He kicks the door shut behind him and spins to face you, a wicked grin on his face.

You squeal when he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and laughing against his mouth. His kisses are hot and eager– there's no break for breath as he moves across the room with you. You don't even pause when he lays you down on your bed, hand sliding “his” t-shirt up your body.

You shiver when he brushes against your thigh. His hands are cold from outside, and the contrast against your warm skin feels like electricity. He smiles in the kiss and squeezes the skin tight.

Your own hands find their way around his neck, pulling him even closer into you. Through the thin fabric of the shirt you're wearing, you can feel the hardness of his body all pressed against yours. He shifts against you and the friction makes your nipples harden right under him.

His hands leave your thighs. They wind their way up your torso, feeling you up all along the way until he finds the stiff peaks that called his attention. He runs his thumbs over them, drinking up every sound you make. One of your hands cards into his hair and you tug.

He groans at that, finally pulling away from the kiss with a grunt and instead trailing his kisses down the column of your throat. His teeth graze your pulse point and you buck up into him in surprise.

You feel him laugh against you.

"You're so cute," he says into your neck. He mouths over the skin before biting down, hot wet tongue immediately after. A bruise, then.

"Sungie," you gasp out. Your back arches off the mattress as his hands wander all over you. You've always loved how naturally his mouth works its way around your body– he knows just where to kiss, what spots to brush his nose over. Like he's learned the entire road map to your pleasure.

Maybe he has.

He mouths down your body, pausing and sucking on your breasts before leaving wet, soft kisses down the expanse of your tummy. When he gets to your core, he shifts his kiss-trail over to your inner thigh.

"Do you know how hot you are?" He murmurs. "Like all the time. Holy fuck. This is my shirt, princess. My shirt. Don't you know that drives me crazy?"

You do. It's precisely why you grabbed it.

His tongue meets your skin in an agonizing, slow stripe along your inner thigh. The higher he gets, the more your legs tremble around him, until finally his lips close around your clit.

The feeling is overwhelming. Your head lolls back against the bed and you let out a breathy moan. He hums against you, fingers digging into the skin of your thighs as he holds your legs up. Your hands are shaking, but one winds its way back into his soft hair, and you tug.

He moans at that, a sound that sends vibration up through your whole core. He takes a hand away and brings it down, letting his thumb just press lightly against your entrance. Even in the slightest sense of pressure, you arch further into him, wanting more, more, more.

He sucks on your clit even harder, his tongue joining, and when you look down and see his blissed out expression between your legs, you think your heart might jump right out of your chest.

In all the times the boys have taken you apart, they've never made you come this quickly. You're not sure if it's because of the moment with Chan earlier, or because you've been thinking about having one of them fuck you all day. All it takes is two large fingers, pushing and stretching inside of you while his mouth moves so perfectly around your throbbing clit for you to snap. You come with a sob, your thighs pressing against his head.

If there's one thing Jisung certainly loves, though, it's eating you out. He could spend hours between your legs, kissing and sucking and licking until you're boneless and spent. So there is no sign of slowing in his rhythm, even when you wriggle from overstimulation.

"Sung," you moan. He responds by pinching your thigh, sucking hard on your clit so your yelp turns into a moan.

Distantly, you register the sound of footsteps that pause right outside of your door. You hear knocking, but not on your door, and you realize Seungmin has finally come upstairs, likely to grab everybody for some quality time after a day apart.

You almost laugh at how well this is working out for you.

Jisung slides his fingers back into you, and your attention is split between straining to hear what's going on in the hallway and the blinding pleasure you're feeling. He curls his fingers up and you find yourself gushing on his hand, your own fingers tangled in his hair so tight he can barely move.

"God, you're so fucking wet," he murmurs against you. He almost sounds giddy. "Did you miss me, baby?"

You can't even form a response, only able to whine as he fucks into you with his fingers, tongue flicking over your clit just fast enough to make you tremble. Your orgasm is coming on strong, and you feel like you're floating above your body, every touch electric, every movement monumental.

And then–

"Ah, so that's where they are."

Your eyes snap to your now-open door. Your other two boyfriends are there, and you make direct eye contact with Chan just as your second orgasm reaches its peak. You arch up off the bed, gasping into the air as your body trembles, and Jisung keeps his mouth on you, sucking hard and making your vision go white.

After a minute, he finally slows his pace, pulling away and finger-fucking you slowly and deep. He would never stop completely, especially not now that everyone's in the same room. His voyeurism is likely cranked up to 10, and you know he'll be pouty and whiney for the rest of the week unless he gets to watch one of the other boys split you open on their cock.

From the way he's looking at you, you feel like it'll be Chan doing the splitting.

Seungmin, ever the sane one, pretends to roll his eyes. "So this is why neither of you were answering my texts about movie night? This couldn't wait?"

"Well, she was wearing my shirt and nothing under it," Jisung says, grinning up at him. He gives your clit one last suck before kissing it and propping himself up, fingers still buried to the hilt inside of you. Your brain feels foggy as you stare at the three of them. You can still feel yourself gushing on his fingers.

Seungmin notices, eyes glued to your cunt as he walks over. You see his faux annoyance dissolving. "Fuck, she's really wet, isn't she."

Jisung grins. He presses a kiss against your inner thigh. "Yeah, I think she missed us."

Chan scoffs. He finally makes his way into the room fully, and you can see where his cock is straining against the fabric of his shorts. "No. She missed getting fucked." 

He stands at the end of the bed, eyes fixed on Jisung's hand as he continues to move inside of you. "Did you tell Jisung what happened earlier, baby?"

Jisung huffs out a little laugh, half lidded eyes going back to your face. "Hmm. No. She didn't."

A chill runs down the length of your spine. Fuck. It sounds like Chan got to them first.

"Chan said you were being a real big brat earlier," Seungmin hums. He pulls his eyes away from your center and finally looks at you. "Is that true, angel? Were you being bad for Chan?"

You shake your head, eyes going doe-ish as he gets closer to you. You realize you need to change your plan and do it quickly. It takes less than half a second for a new idea to come: Seungmin is the softest of the three of them, at least in sexual situations. If you can get him on your side you might have a chance.

That thought flies out of the window when his hand makes its way around your throat, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. 

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart." His voice is deceptively soft. "Don't you think Chan already spoke to us?"

You fight back a gasp at the sheer betrayal, but decide to double down anyway. "Wasn't being bad," you manage. You stick out your bottom lip in a pout. "I didn't do anything!"

Seungmin squeezes again, harder, and you really do gasp this time. "Then why did we both get a text from Chan earlier saying you were being mean to him? Hmm?"

"He said he came to blow off some steam and someone," Jisung presses his fingers directly against that squishy part inside of you, "Was being all bratty. Telling him to leave her alone."

It's at this moment that you realize all your planning was futile. You've fallen right into their trap.

You try the Seungmin strategy again, panting as you look up at him. "Minnie, please," you whine. You can't think with Jisung hitting your spot like that. "I wasn't– I–"

He tilts his head. "Oh come on baby. I think you're just lying to us now."

Your chest heaves. Jisung has chosen now to dive back into your cunt, tongue swiping up your slit and circling around your clit. Your brain is too scrambled to think of any other ways out of this situation, so you resort to what you always do: 

Pleading.

"'m sorry, Minnie," you rasp. "Didn't mean to– Didn't mean to be bratty."

Seungmin softens only slightly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" You're gasping around your words. "I promise. I just wanted to make him mad, wasn't trying to be mean."

In all of your begging and the relentless fervor of Jisung's tongue, you barely notice Chan making his way to the other side of your bed. Seungmin's grip loosens around your throat, his fingers tracing the outline of your jaw as he takes in your words.

"Hm. What do you think, Chan?"

You turn to look at him. He's shed his shirt somewhere along the way, and the hard musculature of his stomach is glistening with sweat. He climbs onto the bed and situates himself so that he's behind you with your head in his lap. You're expecting his hand to replace Seungmin's around your throat, but instead he reaches over you, gripping the hem of your shirt and sliding it up over your chest until your breasts are on full display. Seungmin immediately sinks down to his knees and takes your nipple into his mouth.

You're a gasping, whining mess, eyes rolling back until all you can see is white. You feel Jisung sling his arm around you to keep your body still.

Above you, Chan lets the shirt go and switches his focus to your hands, pulling them up and holding your wrists together in one hand to keep them above your head.

"I think," he murmurs, using his free hand to caress your face, "That if she wants to cum so bad, we should let her."

Your heart drops. To the untrained ear, it sounds like you've won, but you know better. You know Chan, and you know he has something up his sleeve. But when you look up at him, he's looking down at you with a sickly sweet smile.

"If she's sorry," he continues, "She'll behave. Right, babygirl?"

You can't speak. The dual sensations are sending you to the moon. The hand caressing your face grips your jaw tight, keeping your gaze locked on him.

"I asked you a question, princess."

As soon as you open your mouth to answer, your orgasm crashes into you without warning. It's the third one in a row, and you feel much like a washcloth that's been wrung out. Your movements are jerky, uncoordinated, and even as you continue trying to respond to Chan, your voice is not coming out.

"Jisung." He says simply.

The boy in question pulls away from your cunt with a satisfying pop. He's absolutely pussy drunk, eyes half lidded and tongue rolling over his lips to savor the flavor of you. If it were just the two of you, he'd keep going, but amongst the hierarchy of dominance, Chan has been, and will always be, at the top.

"I think she's ready now, yeah?" Chan rubs his thumb against your skin. "Fuck her good for me."

When orchestrating your own plan, you looked at Jisung’s eagerness as something to work in your favor. You hoped he would get you riled up enough for you to scream his name a couple times and really make Chan mad. But now, as he shimmies out of his sweats and boxers, taking his thick length in his hand, you feel nervousness tickle your gut.

Seungmin has pulled away from your nipple, reaching down to hold one of your thighs up. He's murmuring sweet nothings to you as he holds you open for Jisung. The latter is poised at your entrance, stroking himself and watching you with hungry eyes. 

You tip your head back to look at Chan again, and he only smiles down at you.

"Channie," you whimper out. You can barely speak, you're so overwhelmed. "Please–"

"Shh," he coos. "I know, baby. But this is what you wanted, yeah?" His hand moves from your jaw to your mouth, pressing a finger against your lips. You suck it in without thought, letting your tongue swirl around him with your cheeks hollowed out like you would on his cock. "I just want to see you take Sungie's dick. Be good, baby."

You almost choke when Jisung thrusts into you. You're already so wet and so sensitive, and his cock is stretching you so wide, pushing deep inside until you're sure you can feel him in your stomach. He gives you no time to adjust, that eagerness coming full force as he fucks right into you.

"God, she's still so tight," he breathes. One hand finds purchase in the dip of your waist, the other moves to the thigh not being held by Seungmin, folding you up and spreading you open to give him more leverage as he fucks into you hard.

Seungmin hums, trailing kisses along your leg and the side of your neck. "Feel good, angel? You like having Jisung's cock inside you?"

You can't even respond, mind blank as Jisung plows you deep. Your back is arched off of Chan's lap, head pushed back as his finger keeps your mouth propped open. You're a dumb, drooling mess around him, and despite the soft smile on his lips, you know it's wrecking him. 

To prove your point, he digs his nails in one of your palms, a stark contrast to the way Seungmin's hand is gently rubbing up and down your body, playing with your nipples and caressing your sides and stomach.

It's all too much, the sensations are overwhelming, and you're so wound up from earlier that you already feel the orgasm building. You mewl pathetically, eyes watering as you look around for someone to have pity on you.

It's Chan who catches your pleading gaze, but he only raises an eyebrow.

"You're gonna cum again? Already?" he says. It's not condescending or snarky, rather genuine disbelief and curiosity. His finger leaves your mouth and you let out a dry sob as trails of spit drip down your chin.

Jisung doesn't hear this– or can't, rather. He's fucking into you like he'll die if he stops, breathy moans leaving his mouth as he does. He's babbling nonsense, things like how tight you are and how well you take him in. You know he's close too, because his hips have gone erratic in their rhythm. Yet somehow, he gets faster.

The knot in your stomach feels heavy as lead. This orgasm might genuinely take you out. 

"Please," you rasp. "Please, please, I can't–"

Chan shakes his head, smiling. "Oh, but baby, I thought you wanted to cum?" 

"I do," you whine. "Want to so bad but 's too much. Too much, Channie, please–"

"No. Shut up and cum, princess," the grit in his voice is back. "Cum on Jisung's cock. Be good for us."

That's all it takes for you to snap. You let out a broken cry as another orgasm rocks through your body. It's even more intense than the others, pulling all of your muscles taut so you sit up before slumping back into Chan's arms. You barely register the way your hands flex uselessly above your head, writhing in Chan's grip. You can only vaguely feel Seungmin kissing your cheek, whispering little encouragements in your ear, telling you how good you are and how pretty you look when you cum.

And then Jisung is grunting, snapping his hips against yours one last time before spilling into you. Your walls spasm around him as he cums, milking him dry and causing you both to whine into the air.

In typical Jisung fashion, he's still rutting up into you after you're both well past overstimulation. The pressure in your cunt throbs throughout your body, tears springing into your eyes. You're very close to abandoning the little bit of pride you have and begging him to stop.

It turns out you don't need to, because as if on cue, Jisung finally pulls out and Seungmin lets go of your legs, standing up. You nearly sob at the loss of his gentle contact, so you don't even notice he's taking off his clothes until he's standing where Jisung was, hands gripping the soft skin of your thighs to hold you open. 

"Aw, baby," he says softly. He runs a hand up your leg. "You did so well."

You pout, a sob bubbling in your throat when you realize their plan now. They're gonna drag as many orgasms out of you as they can, overstimulation be damned. The thought makes your clit throb, and that alone makes you whine. It's all too much.

Despite knowing you're already so wet and lax and malleable, Seungmin reaches down to rub at your clit in an attempt to open you up. 

"Min," you cry, squirming at his touch. Your cunt feels tender, and even though the first set of tears are long dried up on your cheeks, fresh ones start to come. "Minnie–"

"Shhh. It's okay, angel."

His words are gentle and reassuring, but when his eyes catch yours, all you see is darkness.

Seungmin's gentle dominance has a limit. He doesn't get all stern and mean like Chan, or desperate like Jisung, but there's only so long he can last before that other, darker part of him surfaces, the one that gets off on hurting you, on seeing you in pain and feeling good from it. You can tell by the look in his eyes that this is the part of him you'll be dealing with.

When he finally sinks his cock inside you, it's slow, and the moan that he lets out vibrates through his length and right into you. Your neck seems to give up, dropping you right back down in Chan's lap less than gracefully. It gives him better access to you, and he leans immediately to attach his mouth to yours. He alternates between soft kisses and hard bites that will surely bruise in the morning.

Seungmin is only a bit longer than Jisung, but he's so damn girthy. Every tiny thrust he rocks into you sends shivers down your spine. Your skin feels like it's on fire and you're not even kissing Chan back, basically panting into his open mouth.

"Prop her up, Chan," Seungmin grits out. "Wanna watch her while she cries."

He gives you one final peck, and then the hand that's still holding your wrists lets go. It takes a second, then both hands are under you, lifting you up off the mattress until you're sat up on his lap with his chest against your back. He crosses your wrists against your chest and holds them in one hand, and then the other snakes up and finds your throat. His hand is way bigger than Seungmin's, and he's not as gentle when he squeezes and forces you to look back at him.

He doesn't look mad, or even turned on. He's smiling at you, like you're a particularly good puppy. "Good girl. Gonna give us a big one, yeah?”

You barely have a moment to understand what he's implying before you feel a hand on your clit. Both of Seungmin's hands are occupied, so you're not sure why it surprises you to see that it's Jisung's deft fingers on you. He's standing behind Seungmin, one hand on him and the other on you.

It feels like your eyes are bulging out of your head. The touch is gentle, but it still feels like you're being hit with lightning bolts. You're too spent to even buck up at the contact.

"Oh my God," you choke. "Oh, oh, I–"

“That's it,” Chan purrs when you cum again. He kisses whatever skin is closest to his mouth, his fingers gripping your jaw. Your head feels light, the only thing keeping you grounded to the bed are their hands on you. You feel like you're going to faint, and Seungmin's eyes are only egging you on.

Your body trembles so violently, Seungmin is forced to pause in his motions to hold your knees and keep your legs from buckling in. Your vision is blurry, but you can see Jisung has a steady grip on Seungmin's hair, effectively holding him in place.

"Good girl," he breathes, those big brown eyes trained on your face. "You take him so well."

His words send shivers down your spine. Jisung is always more coherent and in control after an orgasm. You know if Seungmin was today's focus, Jisung would likely be spitting all kinds of nasty, filthy words in his ear, but his gaze is fixed on you. All it takes to get you going is a good stare.

He taps at your clit with his free hand. You jump, moaning loudly at the contact, your back arching off Chan's chest and into Seungmin's body.

"She's good. Keep going," Jisung murmurs, pulling his eyes away from yours to look at Seungmin. He pulls a little at the hair on the nape of his neck, causing Seungmin's cock to jump inside you.

They work in tandem. Jisung's hand keeps circling your clit in the same soft rhythm, and you're not sure how but it's making you even wetter and more loose. You're a mess of moans, not knowing whose name to scream when they all have their hands on you. It's dizzying in the best way. 

Seungmin has started rolling his hips into you with more vigor, the soft sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. The dark shroud over his eyes is back as he stares down at you. "Feels good doesn't it," he grunts. "Look at your little cunt fluttering open for me like a good slut."

You feel another sob bubble out of you, this one accompanied by tears, but it dies in your throat when Chan's grip on you gets even tighter. All you can do is pout and whine.

"Aw, look at the little crybaby." Seungmin starts to fuck into you in earnest, his own moans getting higher in pitch. You can tell by the way Jisung's grip in his hair tightens that he's close. "C'mon angel. You're being so good, you can take it."

"Minnie," you rasp, barely able to speak. "Please–"

"I said take it." He’s looking down, watching where your cunt is sucking him in with each thrust. He thrusts into you particularly hard, and your entire body lurches forward, causing you to gasp. "And if you can't, you know what to say. You know your word."

You do. Somehow, under all the begging and pleading, you're actually insanely giddy with want. It's all part of the little game you play, so you just pout pathetically at Seungmin as his hips snap harder into yours.

"She's not gonna say it," Chan sing-songs. He uses the hand on your throat to tilt your head to the side, giving him perfect access to more of you. He nips at your skin. "She likes being treated like this. Like a little toy."

It's all too much. Every inch of you is on fire, the room feels like it's a thousand degrees. Chan's mouth on your neck, Seungmin's cock deep in your cunt, and Jisung's fingers–

It's like something snaps.

A knot you didn't even realize was in your stomach explodes and your vision goes white. It's an orgasm unlike anything you've experienced before. Your brain completely melts, your hearing dulls, and you can feel the drool running down your chin. You feel like you're floating and drowning all at the same time. 

"Oh shit," you hear Seungmin groan. Your cunt is spasming around him. His thrusts become harder, sloppy. "God, fuck–"

He cums hard inside of you, hips jerking as he chases the aftershocks. You've gone completely limp, barely able to move at all as Chan continues to bite at your neck.

The hand on Seungmin's shoulder drops. "That's so hot," Jisung mutters, almost to himself. He's lost some of his in-control voice. "Wow, baby, you should be bratty more often.”

If you could see straight, you'd probably laugh at that.

Seungmin pulls out slowly, and when the head of his cock leaves you, you let out a tiny mewl. You're overstimulated to the point that you're numb. Seungmin smiles softly as he rubs the inside of your thigh.

"Oh, sweetheart, I know. It's a lot. But you're being so good for us.  I think it's Chan's turn though, hm? Wanna make him feel good?"

"Give her a minute," Jisung chides. You hear a sharp intake of breath and you know he's likely yanked on Seungmin's hair again. "She's about to pass out."

You can feel your limbs slowly returning to you, the fog clearing in your head. When Chan moves the hand from your throat, you breathe deeply, taking in gulps of air as moves his hand down to rub against your tummy. Jisung and Seungmin are bickering somewhere around you, and you let yourself relax in Chan's hold.

"Do you want to finish now, princess?" His lips are warm against your ear. "We can be done. You don't have to take me.”

It's a very tempting offer, especially with the way you can hardly remember what day it is. You could easily take it and call this all done. The four of you have almost certainly been at this for more than an hour now, and they've wrung six orgasms out of you. They're sweet enough to offer to call it a night.

But then you think about Chan, and how, despite being the reason this all started, he's barely done anything. Hasn't tasted you, hasn't shoved his cock down your throat– He's usually not one for letting go until you've milked him dry at least twice, and you can't stand the idea of him having that buzz under his skin all night. 

So you shake your head.

"No?" Chan laughs, almost like he's surprised. "Really? You still want to finish with me? Are you sure, princess?”

He's giving you the same offer he gave you earlier. An out. Making your comfort the first priority. The thought alone is what gives you the strength to nod against him.

"'m sure, Channie."

"Oh, fuck, okay." His grip around you goes a little slack as he moves, pulling you away from his lap and  laying you back into your bed. He leans over you and presses a gentle kiss against your mouth. It feels like he's thanking you, almost.

When he pulls away, his eyes are sparkling. You want to look into them for hours.

He barks something at Jisung and Seungmin, and the bickering stops immediately. You hear shuffling around you before Seungmin takes Chan's empty space and Jisung appears at your side. They're pressing soft kisses to your face and praising you as Chan works his shorts and boxers down. When his cock springs free, he lets out a hiss of relief.

The sight of him alone makes anxiety rear its ugly head. You start to wonder if maybe you should've taken the opportunity to tap out, or if maybe you should use your safeword, but then Jisung is grabbing your hand and pressing kisses against it, squeezing you and keeping you tethered to the present.

"You can do it, pretty girl," he murmurs in your ear, breath fanning over your cheek. "You did so good for us, just a little longer."

Chan catches your eyes, and he smiles again, reassuring. His hand runs down your body and grabs one of your legs, lifting it and hooking your calf over his shoulder. "Gonna go easy, baby. I know it's a lot."

Your stomach is filled with butterflies, and your hands are shaking a little bit when he ruts himself up against you. You're so open from the others that when his head catches on your entrance, it nearly slips inside.  

Your back arches as you moan, and then his cock brushes against your entrance with purpose and it feels like you're going to split right open. He rocks into you again, pushing in the barest inch and pulling right back out. You whine and shift your hips in an attempt to escape.

"Come on, be a good girl now, princess." His voice has gotten lower, lust taking over. "Relax.”

His eyes flit up from where you're connected to look at you, and in one move he pushes right inside of you.

It doesn't hurt– you're way too wet and open for that. It does feel like your stomach is being forced open, however. Like his cock is pressing against all of your internal organs. You arch up off of Seungmin's lap and he pulls you back to him quickly.

Chan groans, bottoming out inside you. His eyes are closed as he lets himself bask in the sensation, hips rocking shallowly. You're thankful that he doesn't move immediately, but even the barest amount of movement feels like too much, like you'll come apart at any second.

You barely feel it when Jisung slips your hand into his. It takes you a minute to realize it's because your brain has been reduced to nothing. Your body has melted into the bed, your muscles are lax, and there's an emptiness in your brain filled with nothing but static and Chan's name. You don't think about anything at all, can't form a single coherent thought. You don't feel the kisses on your throat or the way Seungmin's hands have taken residence on your stomach. The only thing you feel is the overwhelming pressure in your cunt as Chan slowly pulls out, leaving just the tip, before pushing all the way back in.

He builds a rhythm quickly. Seungmin is holding you tight to his body, as though he's scared you might float away, and you appreciate it because it gives you another sensation to focus on. Your head is lolled against his shoulder, eyes rolled back into your head so far all you see is white.

The sound of Chan fucking into you is absolutely obscene, a mixture of your juices and the remnants of the cum still leaking from your hole. He fucks you slow, but hard, snapping his hips into yours so hard it almost feels like you might get a bruise on your thigh.

Jisung is watching with hungry eyes from your side. He's not touching you at all anymore, too engrossed in the scene unfolding to do much else other than stare with his jaw slacked. Seungmin takes over for him.

"That's it," he breathes. "That's it angel, look at you." He moves the hand on your stomach and lets his thumb rub circles on your clit. You feel like you're going to pass out. You don't get time to beg him to stop before you feel that same hand move to your mouth, and two fingers push past your lips.

"Here, sweetheart," he breathes, eyes fixed on your lips as you suck his fingers. "That's you on my fingers, baby. Isn't it good?"

You moan around his hand, head spinning both at the taste of yourself and the intrusion of Seungmin's fingers in your mouth. He's not fucking them into you with any kind of rhythm, just shoving them in there until you're dribbling around his hand. He hums happily when he pushes in more and makes you gag, kissing away the tears the spill over.

Chan grunts, head falling back. "Min, again, please, she just– fuck, she–"

Seungmin doesn't need to be told twice. He repeats the motion again, making sure his fingers go far enough so you're choking around him. This time, when you splutter and gag, you can feel it when you clench down on Chan and his cock pulses in response.

"Oh my God," he moans, thrusting into you again. "Oh my god, baby, you're so good. You're doing so fucking good–"

Between the movement of his hips and the feeling of Seungmin's fingers down your throat, you're not quite sure you're still on this plane of existence. Everything is spinning around you, your cunt is throbbing, you can hear Jisung moaning somewhere, but you don't know from what.

You can feel Seungmin's lips pressed against your forehead as his fingers fuck your mouth, your eyes rolling back into your head again. You're so lightheaded, so far gone, you can barely remember your name. 

It's when Chan starts to thrust faster that you come back to your body with a jolt, mind filling with white hot heat. The pleasure has long since lost it's edge, and you're a moaning, writhing, teary mess again. The coil in your stomach starts to build for the seventh time, and you're pretty sure your brain has gone empty. The only thing you're able to focus on is Chan. Chan, Chan, Chan.

"Almost done, angel." You register a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth, and then another on your forehead. You think the voice belongs to Seungmin. Maybe, if the way he eases his hand out of your mouth is any indication.

Nothing is making sense anymore. It all feels like you're having an out-of-body experience.

Chan's hips falter, and his hand slides up to your throat again, but he doesn't squeeze. Just rests it there as his orgasm approaches, hips snapping against you at an erratic rhythm.

"Sweetheart." His eyes flutter open with strained effort, but they remain locked on yours. "Can you give us one more, princess? Hm? Can I get you to cum on me too, please?"

There's a desperation in his voice that makes your body feel hot. You want to tell him yes, that you're close, so so close, but all that comes out is a weak noise that you're not even certain you made. 

Seungmin seems to get it though, because he slips his fingers down between your legs, finding your clit again. He rolls it between his fingers with one hand while his other reaches up and settles on your jaw. You feel Jisung's tongue flick over your nipple and your world draws to a pinpoint.

Chan curses above you, fucking into you at an almost punishing pace. "Yes, baby, let go for us. That's it. We got you."

It feels like someone's stuck a vacuum in your brain with the incoherent way you're thinking. The sound of his voice saying your name in that desperate tone is all it takes, and suddenly you're floating out of your body, ears ringing as the pressure inside you bursts. Your eyes roll back and the clinging remnants of an orgasm wash through your body. It feels more like an aftershock. You're only vaguely aware of the way Chan moans, loud and throaty, when he finally spills into you.

It takes a couple minutes before the two of you come back down to earth. You can't move, and even though you know Seungmin is holding you tight, it feels like you might drift right off the mattress and float up into the clouds.

Chan pulls out slowly, and you shudder when you feel a trickle of his cum leaking from your hole. It's not long before your eyes droop shut from pure exhaustion. You think you might pass out right on the spot.

The room gets kicked into gear pretty quickly after that. From what you can tell in the hazy state you're in, someone grabs a wet cloth to wipe you down with while someone else finds you a new t-shirt (and panties this time). They dress you like you're a doll, maneuvering your limbs and telling you you're good, you're so good, they love you so much.

Then you're scooped up into a pair of arms while the distant sounds of sheets being pulled off the bed floats up to you. They take you out of the room.

"You did so good for us, baby." The owner of the arms whispers against your ear. From the cadence in their tone you're pretty sure it's Jisung. "You were such a good girl for us, sweetheart. We're so proud of you."

You think you nod against him, but you can't be sure. You hear him kick a door open, and then he sets you down on a bed and you register Seungmin and Chan coming in.

"Okay," Jisung murmurs, going through his aftercare list out loud. "Fresh bed, fresh clothes, we got her some water."

You feel the bed dip behind you. "We got it, but she's gotta drink it, though," Chan chimes. There's fondness in his voice as he scoots closer to you. "Come here, baby."

You let yourself go limp, and a content smile plasters on your face as your boys fuss over you and make sure you're comfortable. They're so gentle, despite what just transpired, and they all take turns pressing kisses against your head, your cheeks, your nose.

When you've all settled into the bed, you feel three pairs of arms around you, holding you close, and you feel insanely lucky for all of it. You snuggle deeper into someone's chest, humming absentmindedly in that dreamy, fucked-out headspace.

"Thank you," you mumble, pressing a kiss to whoever you're snuggled against. You think it's Jisung from the way they nuzzle into your cheek.

"Of course, princess," Chan replies, his voice vibrating against your back. You feel his lips press against your temple, and you smile again. "You're our good girl, even when you're a brat. We'll always take care of you.”

You don't bother replying, simply allowing yourself to sink back into that fuzzy state. You're about to slip out of consciousness when you feel Jisung's nose against your cheek.

"You really do need to be bratty more often, though."

You hear a dull thump as Seungmin smacks the back of his head, and you let their hushed bickering be the lullaby you need to lull you into sleep.

[sccrim]

CAMERA MAN !

warnings : ( unprotected pnv , degrading / praising , creampies , slapping , oral fem receiving , pornstar x drew , masturbation , sex tape , hair pulling , bondage , squirting )

you ask drew to help you film certain angles you couldn’t get right. drew agreeing just for it to end up in a way you didn’t really expect.

1.4k words. not proof read.

tags : @rissouu @dolliescries ( lmk if you want tags !! )

you and drew had been roommates for a while now. it wasn't weird that he was a man and you a woman. it was a mutual agreement that you guys both needed a place to stay. you didn't care if he brought girls home and he didn't care about men you brought. you actually glad you found him as your roommate. he was barley home and when he was— he was in his room.

you never implied that you were a pornstar but he did have the idea you were. he didn't care though. this was the same man who searched your name and jerked himself off to you. the ones he loved the most was when you would pleasure yourself coming to your high. your nipples piercing through your see through bra. the way your legs were opened so they had a better angle of seeing you cum. fuck maybe he did want to fuck the shit out of you and make sure you knew who he was.

drew was sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone when he heard your door open. "hey drew, i need a favor." you asked him. "yeah?" he questioned while seeing you in your robe. "can you help me film something really quickly. i can't get the angle right and i want this to be perfect." you softly smiled. you didn't want to ask him but you really wanted this to be good. this was how you were making money.

"yeah sure." he tried to act nonchalant but he knew what was up and he didn't mind at all. at least he got to see you touch yourself in real life then on video. "you probably already know but don't be so alarmed ok?" you closed your room door. "you're good y/n." he chuckled. "okay all i need is for you to film close ups and just whatever you think is good okay? i'll even pay you half of what i make for helping me." you took off your robe. drew eyed your whole body. the way your thong kissed your ass and lips. your red see through bra. "you're good. trust." of course he was fucking happy. he was gonna see you fuck yourself.

you put yourself on your bed and sat up against the headboard. drew nodded his head letting you know it pressed record. you began smiling at the camera and licked your fingers to get your pussy wet. you traveled down slowly while the camera following the trail. you began circling your clit. moaning softly. drew trying not to get hard. you grabbed your dildo and insert it. you moaned again causing drew to show the camera on your face.

you didn't know what was turning you on even more, drew staring at you, his hard ass dick or the feeling of your dildo. you turned your body around. now the camera sees your ass cheeks in the air. you insert the dildo once more causing you to hump it. god, drew wanted to fuck you bad. he wanted the camera to catch everything he did to you. your eyes meeting drew. you smiled and moaned at the same time knowing he was getting turned on. "wanna fuck me?" you finally spoke.

drew just looking at you, not knowing if you were talking to him or for the camera. "hm? wanna fuck the shit out of me." you bit your lip. "show them you can make me fucking cum all over your dick babe." fuck that just turned drew on even fucking more. he was ready and so were you. "turn over." he spoke. you turned your body once more. your body on the edge of the bed. you grabbed your boob causing drew to slap your hand out the way. you touching yourself as drew traveled his fingers across your body.

drew set the camera on your night stand for the perfect angle. he took his shirts off. his dick flopping against his abs. he spit on his hand and began stroking his dick. you couldn't wait for him to fuck the shit out of you. you wanted to see how good he felt. drew tapped his dick on your clit, you could feel the sensation of it causing you to soft moan. "how much you want me to fuck you?" he ask you as he rubbed his thumb on your clit. "really bad."

"sorry what? gotta speak up baby."

"please drew."

"so fucking wet for me. god, so beautiful laying here desperate for my fucking dick."

"be a good fucking slut and face down, ass up." drew turned you over so quick. you were even shocked but you couldn't wait to get pounded. "hands on your back." you listened and placed them behind your back. drew grabbing his belt and turning it into cuffs. "if you want to tap out let me know." he wants you to tap out. he wants to know that you can't take all of it.

drew just slams into you. "fuck." he moaned. "look at you, wet just for me. felt how easy going in was. turn your head to the camera." his fist around your hair making you face the camera. "show them how good i fuck you." your eyes rolling back. man he can fuck. "you feel so good ma." your pussy clinching around his cock. he grabbed your hips and kept thrusting into you. all you hear is your moans and his balls clapping against your ass checks.

"fuck baby, you look so beautiful taking this dick." drew slapped your ass. "i'm gonna cum—" he started to feel your body shake. "that's right, cum all over this dick." thrusting harder as your body came. "i'm not finish with you yet." drew took the belt off of your hands. you turned around and got on your knees. you began jerking him off before licking his thick tip. "be a good bitch and spit on it." he lifted your chin up. you spit on his dick before placing it in your mouth. "fuck, you feel so good."

he leaned his head back. still sucking, you grabbed his balls. all you can hear is drew moaning. he never felt this good before. you were still turned on. man this man was out of this world, you thought. "right there baby." he guided you. he made sure his dick was all in your mouth. the gagging, causing him to moan in pleasure.

"get up."

you followed his command. you laid on your back as he slammed into your throbbing pussy. he placed his hand on your neck, choking you softly— you smiling at him. "how will your fans feel knowing you rather get fucked by me then anyone else? hm?" he placed his thumb in your mouth. you sucking on it slowly causing him to fuck you even harder. "who's pussy is this?"

"yours."

"that's right, and it's gonna fucking stay like that. no one else is gonna fuck you."

man. drew starkey, the man you fucking are. "i'm gonna fucking cum." he moaned out still pounding you faster. "cum for me."

drew's body started to come to his high, his body twitching inside you. you could feel his cum shoot through you. drew trying to catch his breath. you lifted up a little bit with your elbow, touching your pussy, feeling his cum come out if you. drew watched you as you put his cum in your mouth. "such a dirty slut." he kissed you, placing his tongue in your mouth. "we're not finished." you looked at him in confusion. he got on his knees and put your legs over his shoulder.

"i want you to squirt in my mouth."

you laid back down when you felt his tongue on your clit. your hand gripping his hair as you began fucking his face. him moved his hand to grab your boob. this man made you feel things, you haven't felt. yeah you did collabs but it wasn't as amazing as this was. you tried to hold in longer because you loved the feeling of drew eating you out but your body began to shake. drew holding down your hands by your side as he kept the movement going.

"drew- im gonna—" you moaned out. you squirting all over him. you out of breath while drew smiled looking at you so weak. "you taste so good baby." he says leaning in kissing you. you both never thought this day would come that you guys would be doing this together or even kissing each other. but you weren't mad about it at all. you actually loved it. maybe deep down you guys both had feelings for each other.

drew grabbed the camera and stopped recording. he picked you up and put you in the shower. both of you guys showering together. "go on a date with me."

 sccrim — all rights reserved. please do not modify, repost , translate , or plagiarise my content.

[thanosscross]

Baby - Choi Seung Hyun x reader

A/n: I decided to do both!! I didn't want anybody to feel like I chose one over the other, so here is our first fic, next up will be pre games! Thanos x reader, but what do you think, smut, fluff, angst?

Summary: After going to a club you met a quite intoxicating man, who you later found out to be the same person you and your friends were going to see live

Warnings: Implied smut, drinking

You were a regular at the certain club you were at, both you and friends, so whenever the line was out of the door you were all confused, slowly making your way through, waving at the bouncer as you walked in you noticed the club a lot more alive than usual, along with a group of guys dancing around with drinks on the dance floor. As you made you way day, you made eye contact with the taller one of the group, you friends cheered rushing to the bar to start your adventure of friday night drinking.

It didn't take long for you to be tipsy from the drinks, making your way to the floor whenever your friend's favorite song came on, you just laughed dancing along with her and your two other friends, that was until you noticed the one guy staring at you while talking to his friend. "Hey...do you see that guy?..he's been staring since we got in" You asked, not knowing if you should be flattered by the staring or not, but instead your friend just laughed "Look how tall he is! Go talk to him I bet he's hot too!" She cheered before spinning you around to the music before shoving you over in their direction.

Seung Hyun smiled watching you spun over very disoriented and starting to lose your balance, as you were now tipsy and dizzy, squealing whenever you felt two hands catch your hips, halting your spins and stumbles "Oh my goodness! I am so sorry m-my friend!-" The mystery man just shushed you with a soft very attractive chuckle "You're okay baby" He replied, leaning close to your ear to be heard over the speakers, you blushed brightly and for a minute you were happy it was darker in the club, his voice was on the deeper side "Choi Seung hyun" He whispered lower to your ear, making your shudder under his touch, only now realizing his hands were still placed on your hips. "What? o-oh! y/n" You smiled resting your hand on his forearm, feeling just how much muscle was hiding under the suit jacket he wore. "You're a great dancer" He laughed, you were in awe, just this man's voice and laugh was enough to want to give over your hand in marriage.

You continued to dance with each other for a few more songs, feeling the alcohol start to take over you again as you turned around placing his hands on your waist as you continued to dance with him. Once the song ended, he laughed leaning closer to you if possible "Hey, my friends and I are leaving..if you wanna grab a drink for the road and come with?" he asked hands still placed firmly on your waist, you just nodded lightly against his chest, he just laughed in replied, he couldn't help it, between the alcohol and how absolutely adorable he thought you were being right now was like a laughing gas.

Walking out of the club and climbing into the limo should've been your first clue these guys weren't your average guys, but you obviously followed the man you seemed to be getting drunk off of. As he sat down, he grabbed your wrist with a sense of force but with a certain gentleness that made your heart swoon, he pulled you down to sit right next to him, pulling your legs to sit over his lap, your ass basically on half of his thigh. "You smoke baby?" He asked softly raising his eyebrows, you leaned your head to the side raising your eyebrows "If you do" You smirked, he just smirked chuckling a bit as he lit his joint he had stashed behind his ear, his friends smirking as they glanced over realizing Seung Hyun somehow pulled a girl who was either too drunk to know him or just didn't know him, which was rare.

You were both in your own world though, Seung Hyun inhaling before pulling your lips closer to his to blow the smoke into your mouth, you leaned forward to connect your lips but he quickly pulled away smirking, a smile on his face as he raised a finger wagging it towards you "Patience, baby" He whispered in the one tone that was starting to kill you. Pouting as you pulled away he chuckled leaning forward, leaving rough kisses down to your collarbone before biting your neck, you gasped running your hands through his hair, this man was just getting hotter and hotter the more he spoke.

Whenever you woke up the next morning, your entire lower half was sore, you had slight memories of the night before, especially whenever you saw a naked man asleep next to you. Slowly you tried to climb out of his bed without disturbing him, but as you started to pull on your dress you heard a deep breath and what sounded like a whine "leaving so soon, baby? How do those legs feel?" He asked smirking rolling onto his side to see you, you blushed as you stood up straighter turning around "M-my friend is probably worried a-and we had plans tonight" You stuttered "My number though?" You offered handing him your phone sweetly "Of course, but it's too cold to wear that, let me find you something, baby" He offered, throwing the blanket off of him, revealing his naked torso, a pair of boxers covering what still showed off as a big package. He walked over grasping your hand gently taking you into a giant closet, going through his shirts before pulling out a long sleeve shirt, a jacket, and some sweatpants. "That should be good enough to keep you warm, I'd hate for you to be shivering" he frowned, you looked up at him in awe "I hate sounding like one of those girls, but..You'll text me right?.." You asked placing your hands on his sides "Of course, baby, I gotta show tonight..but afterwards...how about you come back over" He smiled placing his hands on your hips swaying you gently, that should've been your second sign to put two and two together, especially because you and your friends were going to an award show tonight. "Deal.." You whispered, going to press your lips against his but you stopped yourself planting your feet to the floor. Seung Hyun chuckled shaking his hand before using his index and thumb to lift your head up "Come here, baby" He chuckled pressing his lips to yours, you held onto his arms as you leaned into the kiss, he pulled your hips closer smiling against your lips "Are you scared of me now, baby?" He asked teasingly, slowly pulling away from you "Not-uh" You whispered shaking your head "You're just...familiar" You mumbled "But I can't tell" You continued before shrugging, he sighed looking up to the clock frowning "I gotta get goin, baby...but I'll text you after my thing tonight..we can meet up again" He smiled, you nodded sadly as you pulled away from him starting to strip to change into the clothes he gave you "You're gonna kill me baby" You heard Seung Hyun groan from the doorway, you turned around blushing just in time to see him biting his lip before smacking the doorway "Saving that mental picture, because I like, I gotta go though, baby" He said quickly winking at you before disappearing out of the room to start getting ready.

As you were leaving the home, it all hit you, the voice, the body language, how familiar he sounded calling you baby, you just fucking slept with THE T.O.P and stayed the night in the same house as BigBang. As you opened the front door you were stopped by rushed footsteps and Seung Hyun's shouts "Y/n! Wait!" He shouted before coming to a stop in front of you, holding your hips in his hands, he loved the way they just perfectly fit into his hands at any point, from front or behind ;). "See you tonight, yea?" He asked, hopeful he'd get to see your beautiful smile and adorable demeanor again "Of course, just let me know when and where" You smiled kissing him one last time before leaving.

You spent the rest of the day trying to get your friends to believe who you slept with, but they just kept calling you delusional, as you walked into the giant arena, your friends squealed rushing to the barricades, you followed behind watching as everybody funneled in. It was packed, and for most of the show you were behind your friends, until your favorite song started to play, and you and your friend had switched spots, your friend and you both screaming as Knock Out started to play loudly over the speaker G-Dragon and T.O.P rushed out on stage again "Look! It's you're secret night lover, y/n!" Your friend teased, still thinking you were just delusional, until Seung Hyun turned, spotting you standing barricade to his show, so you did know who he was. He made his way over, squatting down, never skipping a beat with his rap as he made eye contact with you before motioning to security to bring you up to his room after the set. You almost fainted, not only did you fuck him and play it cool, but now he knew and still wanted to see you.

After the show ended you smiled looking at your friends "You guys! I'll meet you at the bar okay?" You smiled leaving them at the gates before aimlessly wandering around, trying to find the guard that was waiting for you before, as you continued looking, the venue started to empty, until it was just you in the halls, now turned around and lost. Never noticing Seung Hyun making his way to you, he just smiled to himself, of course you got lost, you were adorable. Making his way up behind you he grabbed your hips "Hi baby" He smirked "Didn't think I'd see you here" he said spinning you around to face him "I wanted to see you again" You frowned resting your hands on his chest "Was my performance not enough?" He asked with a fake pained face, you just shook your head wrapping your arms around him "So, why'd you want me to stay behind?" You asked looking up to him "I wanted to see you again" He repeated your reply from earlier before leading you back towards a small hall that was blocked off with multiple different dressing rooms.

"Baby" Seung Hyun called out, causing you to blush, you were just trying to introduce yourself to the others, but you were learning now the hotter older male was also clingy, but from what the others stated, he wasn't usually like this. Walking towards the bathroom door peeking in "yesss" you called back, smiling whenever you saw him peek out behind the foggy glass shower door, his light teal hair soaking wet slicked back from his face "Shower?" He asked, you were very very tempted to get in, but then you remembered how hard he was jumping on stage "Not-uh, you probably still stink" You protested, squealing as all the other saw was you dissapear behind the bathroom door as Seung Hyun grabbed your wrist pulling you into the bathroom. He stepped fully out of the shower towering over your small frame "That was rude" He scoffed, for a moment you thought he was serious until he smirked starting to peel his shirt off of you "Come on" He offered again before stepping back into the hot water.

You stepped in behind him once you finished stripping, this was your first chance to actually see him naked sober, and it was not a disappointment at all. "You're staringg" He teased pulling you closer by your hips, making you almost slip if it weren't for him catching you, you grasped his arms tightly looking at him terrified knowing it'd probably hurt like a bitch to fall. "I got you, baby" Seung Hyun whispered, ghosting his lips over your neck "You looked hot singing along to me" He whispered, you leaned into his touch, yea that water was warm, but he was somehow warmer. "You looked hot" You replied, feeling him squeeze your hips "Why didn't you say you knew me? us?" He asked, ghosting his teeth over your neck, you shivered under his touch "I didn't know who you were..until I left" You explained trailing your hand down his chest and stomach, feeling his stomach move as his breath hitched, his hand caught yours before it could go any further though "I like you" he stated, leaning away from you to be able to see your face "I like you too" You smiled cupping his cheek with your friend "Yes but do you like famous me...or me?" He asked, holding your hand close to his chest, over his heart "Be honest, y/n" He whispered, you nodded leaning closer to him "I like you, being around you just in the short time I have, it's been fun and I like being around you alot" You admitted, he just nodded kissing you softly, you leaned into him further, not wanting this moment to end

--

first Seung Hyun fic! What do we think? Part two? Leave it here? Feedback, lovelies, feedbacks.

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Sung Jinwo's significant other, who was with him through thick and thin. Someone who was very close to his family and would often fill in the gaps in his life and family.

Imagine doing your normal routine in the mornjng into to look into the calendar and saw today's date marked up with a note that says parent teacher conference causing you to blink, still sleepy. First of all, you've graduated high-school and is a worker and a part-time hunter. Second, you don't have a child let alone a sibling that's going to scho- oh!

"Sung Jinwo!" You scream as soon as he picked up the phone. You heard a groan and a bit of shuffling before you heard a deep husky voice on the phone "Hmmm? Morning." Followed by a chuckle. "Did you just woke up?" He asked causing you to roll your eyes. "No." You lied with a pout. He knew you very well. "You should get ready, Jin-Ah's parent teacher conference meeting is in three hours." "I know, thats why I called you. I thought you were still asleep." "Come on now darling, I'm not a sleepyhead like you." He laughs.

Imagine Jinwo who was on the other side of the phone, just woke up and is now making his way into the kitchen, chuckling as he listen to your rebut with a smitten look on his face, after all, there was nothing he would trade for as long as your voice is what greeted him as he wake up in the morning. "Shall I pick you up at your place so we could go in there together?" "Nah, your house route is completely on the opposite direction of mine. Let's just meet on the school grounds okay?" "Alright." He replied with a smile on his face. "Well then I need to get going now." "Alright, you do take your time to get ready." He tease

"I love you" You heard him say as you almost ended the call due to this teasing. "I love you too." You replied with a small smile on your face. "See you later babe" "I told you not to call-" "Love you! bye!" "Sung Jinwo you punk!" Although you said that with such annoyance, there was a hind of happiness in your eyes that you cannot deny.

Imagine silently waiting for him at the school gates, playing on your phone with some random blocks game when you heard a familiar step coming close causing you to look up only for your eyes to squint as you try to get a grip of reality if your boyfriend was actually the one jogging right in front of you right now.

"Hi." He said with a cheeky grin on his lips as you stare at him wide eyes. "You- your hair." You utter as you reach out and touch his undercut, causing a shiver down his spine as you do. "Yeah I though a little hair cut wouldn't be so bad, my hair was getting long. Why? Does it not look good-?" "No. No Jinwo. You're... beautiful." You utter with a soft smile and proceeded to mess up his hair. "Funny, we used to be by each others height but now you're taller than me." You whispered. "What was that?" "Nothing, let's get going, its almost time."

Imagine noticing the stare and murmurs that the two of you were receiving ever since the two of you have gotten inside the building and eventually to the room where the meeting is about to be held. And to be honest, you honestly cannot blame the students for gossiping and looking at your way because even Jian-Ah was surprised to see her brother's new look upon seeing him. But the way the young adult, one who seemed to be in the same age as you and your lover, probably the sisters of the other students looked at Jinwo that makes you sigh.

Imagine, it was easy to see the changes that was happening with Jinwo. His growth spurt, this strength and abilities were slowly catching everyone's attention. In comparison to the Jinwo you have grown up with, there was this feeling of confusion and anxiety of not being able to keep up with him. You know you should be glad that he was no longer the weak he once was but at the same time, there was this fear of being left behind by him. But you knew for a fact that he would not leave you behind, that's why you fear that you would rather become a burden for hi- "Ouch!"

"You're thinking of something stupid again." "You bas-! That hurts!" You complain as you clutch your forehead, glaring at your lover who was slurping his ramen without care. "You deserve it for thinking about something stupid." "I- I'm not thinking of something stupid." You utter, looking away from him, down into your ramyeon. It's not stupid for what you are thinking was a fact, a truth that hurts to admit.

Imagine the way he slowly reach out and touch your forehead, caressing the spot where he had flicked you earlier. "Sorry, does it hurt?" When he said that with such lovely look on his face, how could you not soften? "No, I was over reacting." You smile gentle at him and lean on his touch. "Still, I'm sorry." "It's alright Jinwo."

"Thank you for bring me home-" You were cut off with a pair of lips. Wide eye, you cannot help but to be taken a back by your lover's action. Nevertheless you soon melt into the kiss and kissed him back, even hooking your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Thank you for staying by my side all those years." He said as the two of you pull away from each other but still close enough that your foreheads where touching. "I love you and only you. There will be no one else, okay?" "Okay." You chuckle and hug him. Right there was no use in being scared when it was obvious whom he loves. "I love you too."

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: I want to write an angst, not sure if Jinwo would be a fit or a blue lock or Genshin character would be a nice victim.

[witherby]

What would happen if any if the batfamilys enemies kidnapped baby y/n and ended up hurting them badly?

I'm happy to tell you, but not in any fantastic detail. When you say "baby" I think "infant, no teeth, still in diapers, etc."

Content warning for bruises on an infant

--

The contexts in which you would not be with a family member as an infant are very few and far between. I'm thinking a couple of your brothers have you on an outing, like a soiree or a networking lunch for Wayne Enterprises, where they have to put the masks away and act like civilians. There's lots of people around, their attention spans are divided, and they're also counting down the minutes until it's socially acceptable to leave.

When that time finally hits, Dick politely excuses himself and goes to collect you and Tim so they can head home. But he only finds Tim.

And Tim turns and only sees Dick.

"I thought you were watching them," Tim says, immediately turning sheet white. Dick's complexion is the same.

"I thought you were watching them."

Cue the immediate panic. Tim has his phone out and is trying to pinpoint your location via the tracker they put in all your pacifiers. Dick's eyes are sweeping the area for any signs of you having either crawled away or gotten scooped up by some confused and well-meaning socialite.

You are far away, and getting farther. Someone definitely took you on purpose. They don't hesitate before leaving the gathering and radioing backup. They'll handle all the screaming and scolding from everyone else as long as you get back home safe.

Whoever did take you, be it someone from the usual rogues gallery or a rando that likes kidnapping kids, it doesn't take long for them to catch up to him. It also doesn't take long to do any damage, either, so when they do find you, it's unfortunately with some significant bruising. Your chubby cheeks are red from tears and your arms and waist have handprint bruising from being dragged around, but nothing is broken or bleeding.

Your brothers can't say the same for the one that had the balls kidnap you. He should be thankful Jason was already on another mission.

(Jason comes back and pays him a visit anyway. Nobody gets to lay a fucking finger on you.)

In the aftermath, you're almost overwhelmed by the attention. You don't sleep in your nursery alone again for months; either someone is in there with you, or you're simply relocated to one of their bedrooms for the night. You're handled so, so delicately, like you're made of porcelain. It's all very soft play and quiet voices for a couple days. If you flinch at contact, either due to the trauma of the kidnapping or because someone brushed against a bruise that's still healing, there will be tears shed from that person.

Bruce notices you flinch when he burps you after a feeding and he has to sit on the floor with you in his lap because his hands are shaking so badly.

Damian will not touch you directly at all. If you need to be picked up, he's fashioning a hammock to slowly and gently roll you into and then carry you off.

Alfred maintains the calmest facade when he carries you around, but if you make any kind of whine or pained face, he has to take a moment alone to recollect himself.

Dick and Tim can barely stand to look at you. They're overwhelmed with guilt for assuming the other person was watching you and not simply double-checking themselves.

Jason asks Tim if he can do some tummy time with you, and he just straight up shakes his head.

Dick fucks up his sleep schedule keeping an eye on you in the night, because even though Dr. Thompkins cleared you, what if she missed something and you develop a complication and need help? He doesn't patrol Blüdhaven properly for weeks, instead coming over to Gotham to keep vigil at your window.

Needless to say, the general public does not see you again for months, and when they do, you are with the entire family. They will not let that happen again.

[ventismacchiato]

OIKAWA AS YOUR MUTUAL THAT YOU HATE IRL

oikawa x gender neutral reader

you and toru have been mutuals on twitter for almost a year as you both run and met through twice fan accounts. you talk to him more than your irl friends atp. on the other hand you and oikawa don’t get along irl, as you’re both on opposing college teams and constantly competing for nationals. since then he’s always picked on you at games, but that all changes when you finally decide to meet your favorite oomf in person.

notes — karasuno is a mixed gender team in this to keep it gn, and instead of highschool these are college teams / the messages in the first section are like throughout the week before you two meet up

ooc idk? it’s been a while. assume everyone is 20ish, i cud make this a cute mini au one day but rn i’m lazy so this is fast paced

also here’s the soobin version i wrote a while ago

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Your stomach was swarming with nerves as you made your way inside the cafe, the scent of freshly made coffee and sweaty college students from the stadium surrounding you as you slid into line. Admittedly, you never thought you'd get the chance to meet Toru, he was just your cute internet friend and nothing would ever happen.

That was, until today.

It was a bit embarrassing that you stared at the selfie he'd sent for longer than you should've. It was difficult to comprehend the boy you'd been talking to for so long was hiding such a pretty figure. Even with the emoji hiding his face you could tell he was cute.

You eye the display of cakes and decide to pick one up for the both of you as Toru had already promised to get you guys coffee. You felt bad going empty handed after finally meeting him.

You reach down to grab onto the last chocolate slice and your hands meet another. Usually, you'd let it slide and choose something else even though you touched it first. But, when you looked to your left and locked eyes with your self-proclaimed enemy, Toru Oikawa, those thoughts washed away. You were going to fight for that slice of mediocre cake.

"Not you again," Oikawa sighed, tugging the slice towards him, "Don't be obnoxious."

"Says you," you scoff, tightly grabbing onto the plate, "Why are you always so rude towards me? Is it because we annihilated you in the game?”

"You were just lucky," He grins, his large hands tugging the cake closer towards him, "Choose something else.”

"You choose something else. Losers don’t deserve nice cake! I got to it first!”

"Ok and?" Oikawa questions, like the little shit he is.

"Fine, just take it," you sigh, not wanting to make Toru wait. Good Toru, not this evil one beside you. But as you let go of the cake and step back you notice Oikawa’s outfit. He was adorned in clothes that oddly resembled the photo Toru had sent you.

"You made me lose my appetite," Oikawa mutters, dropping the cake and shuffling past you. You shake off the familiarity and make your way towards the back. Most men wore the same clothes, it was nothing.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

You eye the walls of the cafe until you come across the wooden tables from the photo.

You start scouring the seats for someone that resembled Toru but the only person in your vicinity was Oikawa.

You inch your way closer towards him with morbid curiosity, hoping that your suspicions would be proved wrong. But as you got closer the drinks on the table and location of your rival were too similar to the photo Toru had sent you.

Unfortunately, Oikawa locked eyes with you.

"What do you want? Are you here to apologize?" he questions, playing with the straw of his drink as he barely gave you a glance.

"Toru? From twitter?" you tentatively ask, your voice hoarse from the nerves. This couldn't be happening.

Oikawa pauses.

"What?" he slowly asks, turning to look at you, "What did you call me?"

"Oh my god," you gasp, "Are you ruluvyeon?"

"What..," he starts, catching on, "You're urmomoyn?"

Your username sounds foreign on his tongue but it was him. Oikawa was your Toru. Evil Toru was your sweet Toru.

Your beloved Toru was the same guy you've been on bad terms with all year. Just your luck.

Before Oikawa could comprehend anything or you could answer, you decide to do the most mature thing anyone would do in that situation.

You run.

And he doesn't follow.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

a week later

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The street was dark apart from the flickering lamps on the side of the walkway as you made your way towards Oikawa - or well Toru’s - house. It still felt odd.

Your palms felt clammy and you were clad in your pajamas, in too much of a rush to change. Which was a decision you were regretting since the flimsy fabric did nothing to protect you against the wind.

Before you knew it you spotted the complex Toru supposedly lived in, and as you walked closer you could see his tall figure waiting for you in the dark. It would've been rather creepy if not for the fact he was drowning in a large hoodie and sweats with a beanie tugged on his hair.

His arms were crossed across his chest as he rocked back and forth due to the cold.

You swallowed your nerves and made your way towards him, not quite knowing what to do with your hands other than give him an awkward wave as he spotted you.

"Hey," he breathed out, gesturing for you to follow him inside.

The warmth of his apartment was far more welcoming than the freezing night. He shut the door behind you both and tugged off his beanie as he gestured for you to sit down.

"Hi," you greeted back as you sank down on his couch. The entire place felt very lived in.

Toru’s face scrunched up into an sly smile.

"I missed you," you added, "I'm glad you reached out."

"I am too," he hummed, reaching out to take his hand into yours. His palms felt warm against your own freezing ones.

"What was your last text about?" you question as his thumb rubs circles on your palm.

"I don't know what you’re talking about?" he smiles, "What did I say?"

"You know damn well what you said," you huff.

"Okay, well I meant it," he answers, "I convinced myself to try and forget you since you were an online friend. But having you right in front of me changed things."

"Changed things how?" you say, warmth creeping up your cheeks.

"Well, for one I can actually see you," Oikawa notes, "And do things like this," he adds, his voice going quiet as he reaches over to push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "And, instead of fantasizing about kissing you, I could actually do it."

"You fantasized about it?" you ask in disbelief, still flustered at the touch of his hand so close to your face "You didn't even know what I looked like!"

"You were kinda just a blob in my mind," he shrugs, a smile tilting his lips at your offended face.

"A cute blob though, right?”

"Of course."

“You never imagined me as my icon?”

“Only when you changed it to Gojo.”

“Oh fuck off,” you laugh.

"So, you really don't hate me?" you muse, playing with his fingers, "It's so weird seeing you be so gentle."

"Would you rather me go back to being rude?" he replies, "But I really don't. I feel a shitty at how I used to treat you. You just get me riled up.”

"It's okay, I did the same," you assure, patting his hand, "Let's start fresh."

"Okay," he agrees, clasping your hand in between his, "Let's go out."

"Straight to the point?"

"I don't think we should waste any more time," he replies, “And my entire team thinks I made you up.”

“I need to make it up to you,” you sigh.

"Kiss me and consider yourself forgiven," Oikawa easily grins, looking at you with the usual look of arrogance he sends you through the net when he wishes you a terrible game. But this time it looks different. Like he wants you to win.

“Alright,” you manage to croak out, your throat closing up at your false confidence.

Honestly, you were qute irritated with yourself on how you treated Oikawa for the past few months. You desperately wanted to move on and start fresh.

Oikawa let out a surprised laugh and you wanted to ingrain the sound into your mind. He brought up his free palm to his mouth and let out a small giggle into it.

“Go ahead then,” he smiles.

"Okay," you manage to say, taking a deep breath.

"Any day now,” Oikawa smirks.

"Shut up, I need a moment-," you started, but were interrupted as he reached over and yanked on your top to slot his lips against yours. He stumbled and you both fell backwards onto the couch as he caught himself above you, both knees outside your hips as you snaked your hands around his waist.

He stared at your for a mere moment in disbelief before leaning down to capture your lips with his. His lips felt pillowy against your own and his warm body right on top of yours made it feel just as good.

You had to remind yourself not to laugh into the kiss.

[endereies]

Skater!Chris teaching Tomboy!Reader how to skate

"Place your right leg just there, on the bolts." Chris had abandoned his own skating routine as soon as you showed up to see him. What was initially a drop by when you had some free time turned into a skating step-by-step tutorial.

"Uh- like this?" Your right foot landed roughly where he pointed out, perpendicular to the board.

"Nope, do it straight." Without another word, he lightly tapped your ankle and shifted it so that it was straight with the board with your foot directly in the centre of the bolts. It was different than what you had seen before.

Chris noticed your confusion and giggled slightly. "It is straight, promise." He paused, allowing you to focus on the board and the feeling of your foot under it. The shoes you wore definitely weren't the right pair for this sport, considering that they were also new. However, you were as keen as he was and ignored the creasing by your toes.

"And your left foot is the one that goes horizontal." This time, he didn't grab your foot and focused on keeping you steady. One hand rested on your hip whilst the other griped your hand tight so that you were balanced. You breathed in before lifting your left foot and putting it on the back. It had landed mostly central to the board, so with a stare from Chris, it shimmied backwards to the second line of bolts.

"Good.. wanna move?" Your head flitted up in his direction, a questioning glare on your face. He didn't deter at all and gave you his same wide grin as before. "Move? What and fall?" You spoke as if it was inevitable thay you'd hurt yourself.

"Satis. I got you. Do you really think I'd let you fall?" His eyes were full of trust. The tone of his voice made your heart flutter - comforted further by his smile.

Hesitantly, you nodded, flicking your gaze between him and the board. Chris knew that at this point, all you needed was support. When your foot lifted from the board and placed back on the floor, the grip on his hand tightened. He slowly moved forward, giving you some space to move forward while being in your line of sight.

Your eyes met his, then he nodded to you, one last nudge. The board wobbled when you pushed off, everything, including you, moving quicker than you anticipated. You quickly panicked and attempted to seize any movements to a halt. It was in vain as your foot pushed itself from the board, driving it faster than you were moving. The foot that started the moving had cemented itself to the floor by now, but the rest of your body continued to fall. Both your eyes clenched shut and your hands instinctively pushed back to catch yourself. But you never do. Instead a tight grip wraps around your waist and the small of your back, protecting you from any fall at all.

"Woah hey- you're okay you're okay" The sounds of giggles and laughter takes you away from Chris' voice and you open your eyes to see a few people looking at you with smiles on their face. Worry fills your eyes until Chris stands in your eye line.

"Don't focus on them, focus on me. Alright? Don't... don't look at them." You realise that trying to get a better look at the group was futile and you switch your focus to Chris. His smile gave you reassurance over the situation until you realised that the board you flew off was no where to be seen.

"Hey." He snaps and gets your attention back onto him again. "Forget the people, forget the board. You did good for your first time. You just have to trust your ability on it. And well... bend your legs but baby steps!"

He runs off to retrieve the board that travelled to the other side of the skatepark and returns with it gliding under his feet. Chris makes his way back to your side with your gaze set onto him in complete awe. You sighed at the unintentional showing off and shuffled your feet.

A soft chuckle left his lips as the board balanced steady on the back two wheels, but that was quick to fall to silence when he noticed your expression. Carefully, he raised his hand to your shoulder and dragged you to his. While looking down at you he grinned warmly which was infectious as always. "One more time?"

You didn't want to turn him down, yet the fear of falling repeatedly wasn't your ideas of a fun time. "Maybe later, Chris. I uh- I have stuff to do." Your voice barely travelled to his ears. Once he heard the word 'later', he ran with it.

"Consider it a date! Is seven okay?" The scraping of the wheels interrupted his sentence. "What."

"A date, me 'n you. Tonight. Seven." He wasn't saying it like a question but a statement. You had no choice to stand there with a stupid grin on your face, letting out a breathy chuckle as he returned to his friends.

This is an Au collab with @strnilolover find her stuff [here!]

[poisonf0rest]

So, I may have gotten a little invested and begun writing this fic...

Just a draft of the beginning half but gods was it fun to write the banter between Sylus and Raf, especially once I figured out their dynamic for later on~

The damned N109 Zone never changes. 

Different venues, different gang names, different “world ending” weapons. But even after several millennia, the greed and stupidity of humankind remains forever stagnant, and forever their greatest weakness.

That, and the nauseating smell of gunpowder and whiskey.

It all makes Rafayel’s stomach roll, and he thumbs at his tie, slacking against his neck before he snatches a glass of champagne from a waiter. Unsurprisingly he does recognize a handful of faces, some from his own gallery exhibitions, others as past targets, or grandchildren of someone he used to know. Not that any of them mattered.

He walked down a hallway filled with Protocores leading up to the banquet hall, and yet strangely enough every last one was bought, even the smallest fragment that barely emitted any kind of energy. What kind of moron…

Rafayel’s frown deepens, and he shoots down yet another glass down, moving from champagne to whiskey as he winces from the burn. 

Then, Rafayel spots you.

You’re alive. 

You’ve alive and you look absolutely fucking gorgeous, prowling across the auction in a cocktail dress, fabric dark enough that it only shimmers red when you dance from spotlight to spotlight. 

Before he even realizes it, he’s running. Trying and failing for it to look as natural as possible, slamming into a waiter and mumbling out an apology as he rushes to your side, nearly dashing onto the dance floor when the shadows seem to lunge– growing and shifting and laughing in an ancient language Rafayel can barely understand as something else steps out from them. And wraps a clawed hand around your waist.

Another man, infuriatingly tall and reeking of the sky and ashes, his hair bleached the same pale color, leans down to whisper something into your ear as you laugh. Laugh. 

And gods new and old, Rafayel sees red. 

Rafayel’s breath catches, chest tightening with a fury so raw it feels like it might crack him open. The din of laughter and clinking glasses becomes a dull roar in his ears, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. He barely registers the heat raging down his veins, a warning that his restraint is fraying faster than he can piece it together.

An uproar of murmuring and gasps steal your attention away from Sylus, and you finally allow your fake smile to drop. Only for your jaw to fall entirely as you see Rafayel standing only a couple of meters away, violent white flames licking against his fingertips as other guests begin to gather.

What the fuck is he doing here. 

“Rafayel.” Your voice cuts through the tension like a blade, sharp and warning. But the sound of it— alive, steady, and wholly unimpressed— does nothing to soothe him. If anything, it stokes the fire.

Sylus turns slowly, his lips curling into a lazy smile as if the entire confrontation is nothing more than an amusing side-show. When his eyes land on Rafayel, something flickers in the depths of his right pupil. “Oh?” he drawls, voice dripping with amusement. “Looks like you picked up a stray, kitten.”

The nickname grates against your nerves, but it’s nothing compared to the way Rafayel reacts. His flames flare brighter, casting eerie shadows across the room as his fists clench. “Take your hand off her.” 

More patrons are beginning to notice. 

Sylus’s grip on your waist doesn’t waver. Instead, he tilts his head, “Her? Oh, you must mean my companion for tonight.” He shifts slightly, leaning down as if to make a point, his hands brushing against the small of your back, right where the silk meets bare skin. “I think you have it mistaken though, she’s the one who practically dragged me here. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

Your pulse spikes, a mix of anger and frustration coursing through you. You force yourself to step between them, planting a hand firmly against Rafayel’s chest before he can close the distance. Thankfully, it makes the flames sputter down to a dull glow in his palms. 

“Stop,” you hiss. “What the hell are you doing here, Rafayel?”

His eyes lock onto yours, wild and burning with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away. “I came for you,” he snaps, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well, congratulations,” you snort under your breath, “Now everyone in this room knows exactly who you are.” You glance over your shoulder, catching the glint of recognition in the eyes of more than a few guests. “And who I am.”

Rafayel doesn’t flinch, his gaze darting briefly to Sylus before returning to you. “I don’t care about them,” he mutters, brows furrowing. “I care about you. I never should have left you, let you go. Come back with me.”

Before you can even respond a deep chuckle cuts through, Sylus stepping forward as he tucks you into his side and reaches around to place a hand on Rafayel’s shoulder. Pinning you between them.

“Touching. But you should know better than to interrupt our business, artist.”

Rafayel’s flames reignite instantly, searing white-hot as he shoves Sylus’s hand off his shoulder. “I said, get your hands off her,” he growls, stepping forward, entire body radiating heat as he’s mere inches from Sylus’s face.

“Or what?” Sylus replies smoothly, something in his eye flashing with amusement once again. “You’ll set this whole place on fire? Very subtle. I can see why you’re such a popular target.”

Target? You linger on it longer than you should've, pieces about Rafayel’s surprising knowledge about the N109 Zone and Sylus’s insistence on resonating as your partner begins to swirl around again. That is, until you physically feel the heat from Rafayel’s flames begin to char into the wooden floorboards. 

“Stop it, both of you!” Snapping, both of their heads whip down to you as you struggle to shove them apart. “You’re drawing attention. Do you want to blow this mission completely?”

“Mission?” Rafayel scoffs, his gaze snapping back to you. “If this was a mission why would you agree to work with him?” He tilts his chin to Sylus, who simply shrugs, shadows flickering and growing at his back. Shit. 

“Her choice, really,” Sylus interjects, voice dripping with false sincerity. “Not that I blame her. All bark and no bite, aren’t you, puppy?”

Rafayel goes deathly still.

So Sylus allows himself to step closer, chest now pressing up against your bare back, the gesture irritatingly casual. “It must be exhausting,” he continues, “Running around, chasing after scraps of attention. Does she even notice? Or is this just another case of unrequited devotion?”

“Say that again,” he growls.

Sylus grins wider, clearly enjoying every second. Enjoying his reactions. “Oh, I’m sorry, did that strike a nerve? You must be used to following orders by now, so tell me, does she ever let you off leash, or do you only bark when commanded?”

“Sylus,” you snap again, cutting off whatever retort Rafayel has ready. You glance around, realizing the murmuring crowd has turned into a full-fledged audience, their gazes sharp and curious. “You’re both acting like children. The target—”

The sound of shattering glass cuts you off.

You whip your head around, just in time to see a hooded figure perched atop an overturned table. A small, cylindrical case glints in their hand, and your blood turns cold as you feel the overwhelming pulse of the Aether Core. 

“Duck!”

The word barely leaves your mouth before the world explodes.

A deafening roar shatters through the venue, blast wave throwing you backward. The force knocks the air from your lungs, glass and debris raining down like jagged confetti. You hit the ground hard, pain shooting through your side as the heat of the explosion sears your skin.

Through the haze of smoke and ringing in your ears, you catch fragmented images: chandeliers crashing to the floor, tables splintered, and guests scrambling for cover and weapons as gunshots ring out.

Sylus is a blur of movement, his shadows coiling and slashing through the chaos. Rafayel, flames erupting instinctively to shield the both you, looks down with wide eyes.

“Follow—” you try to shout, but another wave of the Protocore's energy squeezes your heart, and your vision blurs as you heave and gasp for breath. 

The last thing you see is Sylus stepping over Rafayel’s crumpled form, hauling him over one shoulder before beginning to lift you, too.

Then, nothing.

Then, BAM they wake up in a bed. Together. Naked.

I swear I'll finish the rest of it sometime this week hehe

"Let's get sandwiched between Sylus and Zayne"

"Let's get sandwiched between Rafayel and Xavier"

WHAT ABOUT GETTING SANDWICHED BETWEEN SYLUS AND RAFAYEL.

Like can you imagine Sylus being so smug and teasing Raf and Rafayel completely losing it And take it out on you. LIKE GAHHHHH DAMN.

Someone write about it

@poisonf0rest

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Love Bites: Part Two

A bookstore barista catches the attention of a vampire drawn to her scent, and everything changes when she invites him in.

Word Count: 7,906

Content warning: mentions of drinking blood and biting.

Part One

Morning sunlight filtered softly through the blinds, painting stripes of gold across the bedroom walls. Y/n stirred beneath the sheets, her body slowly adjusting to consciousness. It took her a moment to shake off the heaviness of sleep—and the lingering rush of last night’s memory.

She let out a small yawn and headed for the bathroom, flicking on the overhead light before grabbing her toothbrush. The usual morning routine felt almost surreal today. As she brushed her teeth, her mind drifted back to Harry: his midnight-green eyes, the cool feel of his lips, the firm press of his fangs…

She spat out the toothpaste and reached for the faucet, then paused. In the mirror, two faint puncture marks stood out on her neck—tiny, but undeniably there. Her heart gave a little flutter of recognition. Slowly, almost reverently, she lifted her free hand and brushed her fingers over the marks.

A wave of warmth flooded her chest, dissolving into something that bordered on pure euphoria. It was like reliving the moment he bit her, only this time she felt no fear or shock—just a pulse of lingering pleasure that made her knees feel weak. Even standing there in the bright, ordinary light of day, she could feel him.

After a few heartbeats, she lowered her hand, forcing herself to finish rinsing her mouth. Her thoughts were a jumble of curiosity and a strange, heady excitement. She wanted to see him again. Or maybe needed to see him. At the same time, her reflection reminded her that this was hardly normal—waking up with vampire bites that invoked a delicious thrill instead of terror.

Gently toweling off her face, she took one more glance in the mirror. The marks wouldn’t be obvious to anyone who wasn’t looking for them… but she knew they were there. And she knew exactly who had put them there, too.

She ran her fingers through her hair, exhaling slowly. One step at a time, she reminded herself. That had been Harry’s promise—and her own. It was equal parts exhilarating and nerve-racking to feel so drawn to someone she barely knew. But as she moved back into her bedroom and began pulling on her clothes for the day, her mind was already drifting to the possibility of seeing him tonight.

Would he come by the café? Show up again on her walk home? Or would she find him waiting outside her building like some dark, romantic secret? The thrill surged again at the thought of it. Despite all the unknowns, she couldn’t help but smile. There was no going back to the life she had before Harry—whether she understood it or not, her world had changed.

She glanced at her phone on the bedside table, an itch of impatience tugging at her. There were so many unanswered questions. Yet, as she thought of him—of his cryptic little smiles and careful, tender concern—she felt certain about one thing: she wanted more.

Gathering her bag and keys, she headed out, locking the door behind her with a steady hand. The city beckoned, the promise of another routine day overshadowed by the electric hum in her bloodstream. The marks on her neck might have been small, but they were a reminder of their night together. 

Y/n bustled into the café, shrugging off her coat as she made her way behind the counter. The scent of fresh coffee beans and warm pastries instantly surrounded her, a comforting backdrop to the electric undercurrent of her own thoughts. She couldn’t keep the small smile off her face—even hours after waking up, she still felt that residual rush every time she remembered Harry’s bite.

“Someone’s in a suspiciously good mood,” Ellie teased, eyeing Y/n over a tray of blueberry scones. “Care to explain?”

Y/n’s cheeks heated despite her best efforts to remain cool. “Oh, you know,” she said, forcing an air of casualness, “just enjoying the simple things. Good sleep, coffee in the morning… that kind of stuff.”

Ellie gave her a look that said, “ I’m not buying it.” “And this has nothing to do with that ridiculously attractive guy who visited a while back?” She set down the tray and crossed her arms, a smirk already forming at the corners of her lips.

Y/n tried to stifle a laugh but ended up smiling even wider. “What are you talking about?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in mock confusion. “Surely you don’t mean the one with the hair that absolutely doesn’t make me weak in the knees—or the accent that definitely doesn’t make my heart race?”

“Uh-huh. Right.” Ellie rolled her eyes, grabbing a clean rag to wipe the countertop. “So you’re telling me you’re all sunshine and smiles for no reason at all?”

Y/n shrugged, lifting a coffee mug to hide her grin. “Maybe I just woke up on the right side of the bed today.”

Ellie let out a laugh, then lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Look, if there is something going on, you know I’m here for it, right? I need details.”

Y/n pretended to think it over, tapping a finger against her chin. “Well…” she began, fighting another blush, “maybe I am seeing him again. Maybe soon. But I’m not giving any details just yet.”

Ellie groaned in playful exasperation. “You’re killing me here!”

“Trust me,” Y/n quipped, sliding a to-go cup across the counter to a waiting customer, “you’re better off not knowing all the details.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, picking up on the mischievous gleam in Y/n’s eyes. “Fine,” she said, tossing the rag onto the counter. “But don’t be surprised if I keep an eye out for tall, dark, and mysterious. A girl needs to know what she’s up against.”

Y/n just laughed, feeling a renewed flush spread across her cheeks. Even if she couldn’t tell Ellie the whole truth, it felt good that someone was rooting for her. It was as if her happiness had become something tangible, woven into her every move. And no matter what complications might arise with Harry’s secret, Y/n couldn’t stop that buoyant feeling from spilling over into everything she did. She went about her day with a faint smile plastered on her face. 

When her shift was finished, Y/n stepped outside the bookshop, the sky a sullen gray as rain drizzled in cool sheets. She pulled the hood of her jacket over her head, adjusting her bag as she started her walk home. Her mind buzzed with all the questions she still hadn’t asked Harry—like how on earth he managed to track her by scent alone, or what his own home looked like. Was it as old-world and mysterious as he was? Or maybe minimalistic, a contrast to his ageless presence?

She’d only walked a block before the rumble of a sleek engine broke through the steady patter of rain. A black car glided to the curb, shadowy windows nearly imperceptible behind the droplets. Y/n slowed, her heart thumping in sudden alarm as the passenger window whirred down.

She was about to snap at whoever was inside—city instincts kicking in—until she realized it was Harry,leaning across the seat. His dark curls were damp but still artfully mussed, his green eyes flicking to hers with the slightest hint of a smile.

“Hop in,” he said, his voice calm through the drizzle, as though offering a simple courtesy.

Y/n hesitated, water already soaking the edges of her shoes. Normally, she’d never climb into a stranger’s car—rain or not. But Harry was not “normal,” and—truth be told—not much of a stranger anymore. Still, she couldn’t stop the wry grin that tugged at her lips.

“You know,” she called over the noise of the rain, “your car could’ve been anyone’s. I was about to tell you to fuck off.”

Harry laughed, the low sound almost lost in the hiss of tires on wet pavement. “I’ll try not to take it personally,” he said smoothly. “Now get in before you catch pneumonia.”

She hesitated just a moment more, scanning his features. There was concern in his gaze, mingled with that sense of quiet confidence she was quickly getting used to. With a sigh—part exasperation, part anticipation—she relented, stepping off the curb and opening the passenger door.

The interior was warm and smelled faintly of leather and something else, something uniquely Harry.She slid onto the seat, closing the door behind her. Outside, the rain drummed against the car’s exterior, but in here, it felt cocoon-like, almost intimate.

Harry pulled away from the curb, merging smoothly into the city’s damp evening traffic. Y/n pushed back her hood, shaking out droplets of rain from her hair. She snuck a quick glance at him, noting how his profile looked even sharper under the dim overhead light of the dashboard.

“Fancy ride,” she mused, tapping one finger lightly on the immaculate dashboard. “I was half expecting you to roll up in a horse-drawn carriage or something.”

He shot her a sideways smirk. “I save the carriage for special occasions.”

She chuckled, settling into the seat. “And what’s this then? A spur-of-the-moment kidnapping?”

“More like a rescue,” Harry said, slowing at a traffic light. The neon glow of signs outside washed momentarily over his features, enhancing the hint of a smile that played on his lips. “Figured you’d appreciate a ride home in this weather.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered at the casual way he spoke, like they’d done this a thousand times. She cleared her throat. “Well, thanks,” she said softly. “But I warn you: I still have about a million questions.”

He turned toward her, the light catching his eyes. “Ask me anything.”

She tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear, wondering where to begin. “For starters… you tracked me by scent? That still blows my mind.”

Harry’s gaze flicked back to the road. “Our sense of smell is heightened,” he explained. “Most of us can track a scent for miles if it’s distinct enough. Yours was… very distinct.” His tone dipped slightly on those last words, as though remembering the allure she carried.

Y/n’s cheeks warmed. “I guess I’m flattered? A little creeped out, but mostly flattered.”

He laughed softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver across her skin. “I don’t blame you. It’s not exactly normal. But I hope you’re getting used to the idea that I’m… not exactly normal.”

She bit her lip, unable to hold back a small smile. “Trust me, I’m getting there.”

Another question spilled to her tongue, but before she could ask it, the traffic light changed and Harry turned down a quieter street. She glanced at the passing rows of buildings, illuminated in fuzzy halos from the rain-slick streetlights.

“Are we… heading toward my place?” she asked, noticing they were slightly off her usual route.

Harry hesitated. “I thought—maybe—we could go somewhere else first,” he said, his voice careful. “If you’re up for it.”

A spark of curiosity flickered in her chest. “Where?”

“My place,” he replied simply, his hands steady on the wheel. “I realized you’ve never seen it, and… you said you had questions.”

Y/n’s pulse skipped. His place. She’d wondered what it might look like—had even pictured it in her head. Would it be old-world, filled with antiques? Or sleek and modern? The mere thought of stepping into his private space sent a thrill through her.

She glanced at him, her hand resting unconsciously on the small puncture marks hidden beneath her scarf. “I’d love that,” she murmured, voice colored by equal parts excitement and nerves.

Harry gave a small nod of acknowledgment. “Then it’s settled.”

The rain intensified outside, the roads glistening under the amber glow of streetlamps. Y/n sank back into the seat, stealing another look at Harry as he drove. Shadows played across the curve of his cheekbone, casting his features in a half-light that reminded her just how different he was—and how her world had shifted irreversibly since meeting him.

Yet she couldn’t deny the warmth growing in her chest, that tangible connection pulling her closer. She might not know what awaited her at his house—or how many more secrets she’d uncover—but as she watched the city pass by in a blur of silver and gold, she felt an undeniable rush of anticipation.

He was offering a piece of his world to her, and she was ready to step inside.

Y/n’s breath caught the moment his hand settled on her thigh. Even through her jeans, Harry’s touch felt unmistakably cool—like a whisper of winter air against her skin. She glanced down at his hand, noting the silver rings decorating his fingers, each one reflecting brief flashes of city lights through the window. Fine veins traced along the back of his hand, yet there was an otherworldly stillness to them, as though the blood beneath no longer pulsed with mortal life.

A strange mixture of comfort and curiosity bloomed in Y/n’s chest. She remembered the first time she’d become aware of his temperature—that night on her couch, when his lips had trailed across her jaw. Now that truth was plain to see in the pale, graceful lines of his hand.

She let her own fingers inch toward his, daring to rest them lightly against the back of his hand. “You’re so cold,” she said softly, the faint sound of the windshield wipers filling the silence between them.

Harry kept his gaze on the road, though his lips curved in a slight smile. “It’s… part of the package.” His voice had that gentle undertone that always seemed to let her know he was aware of how strange—how different—he must seem.

Y/n turned her eyes to the rain-blurred view outside, the streetlights bleeding into one another. “Does it ever bother you?” she asked, her voice barely above the rhythm of the wipers. “Being… this way?”

He exhaled, and she could sense the weight in that breath. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Especially when I’m reminded of how far I am from being… human.”

She glanced at him, catching the tension in the set of his jaw. Even as he guided the car through the slick streets with effortless grace, she could see something vulnerable flicker behind his eyes.

“You don’t feel inhuman to me,” she murmured, her fingertips brushing the back of his hand in a comforting gesture. “Strange, maybe. But not inhuman.”

Harry’s grip tightened just a fraction on the steering wheel, and his other hand pressed a bit more firmly on her thigh, as though silently grateful for her words. “That helps,” he said at last, the corners of his mouth curving into a shadow of a smile. “More than you know.”

She let her gaze rest on his profile, her heartbeat steady and certain despite the endless questions swirling in her mind. In that moment, the cold of his touch didn’t feel like a warning—it felt like an invitation into a world different from her own, yet somehow already tied to her in ways she couldn’t explain.

Y/n wanted to ask more, to know the story behind every ring on his finger and the centuries that might lie behind his careful eyes. But with the rain drumming on the windows and Harry’s hand anchoring her to this moment, she decided not to push. One step at a time, she reminded herself. There would be time for questions and answers—long nights and whispered truths.

She slid her hand fully over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. In response, Harry’s thumb traced a slow, reassuring circle over her leg. Outside, the lights of the city blurred and glowed, carving out a small, shared universe within the car’s warm interior.

And as the road bent, carrying them closer to wherever Harry called home, Y/n felt her heart lift. The questions she had could wait—because right now, she was happy just existing in this slice of time, his cool touch grounding them both in the present.

Harry parked the sleek black car in a small underground garage beneath an unassuming brick building. The rain still drummed on the streets overhead, but once inside, all Y/n could hear was the soft echo of her own footsteps. A freight elevator—a curious relic of the city’s past—took them to the top floor. Its cage-like doors rattled open, revealing a hallway lit by old-fashioned wall sconces.

Harry guided her down the hall until they stopped in front of a solid wooden door. Without a word, he unlocked it and pushed it open, stepping aside so she could enter first.

The moment Y/n stepped in, she felt enveloped by a warmth that was undeniably Harry. The room carried his scent—faintly musky, with a whisper of something sweet and unplaceable. She inhaled deeply, a slow sense of comfort washing over her as she took in her surroundings.

Despite the modern furnishings—plush sofa, sleek coffee table, recessed lighting—there were unmistakable touches of antiquity everywhere. A grand, intricately carved mirror hung on one wall, its edges worn in a way that spoke of centuries of use. A weathered trunk with brass fittings served as an end table, stacked with thick, leather-bound books that looked like they’d been passed down through generations. The combination was oddly harmonious: a collision of old-world charm and modern minimalism that felt just right for someone like Harry.

Y/n wandered in a few steps, lightly trailing her fingers over the back of the sofa. “This place is…” She let the sentence hang, searching for the right word.

“Different?” Harry supplied, stepping in behind her and sliding off his coat.

She turned to face him, smiling softly. “I was going to say perfect. But that works, too.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. He seemed relieved by her reaction, as though he’d worried what she might think. “I move around a lot,” Harry admitted, glancing around at the curated mix of old and new. “So, the things I keep…I keep for a reason.”

Y/n’s eyes danced across the artifacts on display. A tarnished candelabra adorned a small table near the window, its silver twisted into delicate shapes. A tall bookshelf showcased rows of volumes both ancient and contemporary, the spines scrawled in languages she didn’t recognize.

She approached the fireplace—modern, but set within a mantle that appeared to be carved from dark marble. It wasn’t lit, but the faint smell of woodsmoke lingered, hinting that Harry sometimes used it. A painting above the mantle drew her attention: a serene, old-world landscape, likely older than any museum piece she’d seen in person.

“This is incredible,” she murmured, turning to look at him. “All of it. It’s so…you.”

Harry shrugged, hands sliding into his pockets as he studied her. “I like contrast,” he said quietly. “Keeping one foot in the past, one in the present.”

She crossed the room and took his hand. His fingers were still cold, but the closeness of the apartment, and his presence, made it feel more comforting than jarring. “Thank you,” she said, her voice gentle. “For bringing me here.”

His gaze flicked down to where their fingers intertwined, then back up to meet her eyes. “I wanted you to see…” he paused, searching for the right words, “this part of me.”

Y/n squeezed his hand, a faint smile on her lips. “Well, I’m here,” she said, releasing a breath that felt like it carried away every last hesitation. “And I want to see everything you’re willing to share.”

Harry’s lips curved in a thoughtful, half-smile. “Then stay as long as you like.”

She glanced around again, letting her senses absorb the warmth, the blend of history and modern comfort, and the intangible presence that was uniquely Harry. A shiver of anticipation threaded through her—because for all the questions still on her mind, she knew with certainty she was exactly where she wanted to be.

Y/n settled onto the plush couch, leaning into the gentle warmth that permeated the apartment. Harry rose briefly and returned with a bottle of red wine and two glasses—though he’d already mentioned he rarely drank anything besides blood these days. Still, he poured a small measure of wine into a glass for her, the soft clink of glass against wood echoing in the cozy space.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, accepting the glass. She took a cautious sip, letting the mellow, fruity taste linger on her tongue. Meanwhile, Harry set the bottle aside and eased onto the couch beside her, leaving his own glass untouched on the coffee table.

He reached out, brushing a few strands of hair back from her face in a gesture so tender it made her heart flutter. “You’re perfect,” he murmured under his breath, almost as if he didn’t mean for her to hear it.

Her cheeks warmed, and she lowered her gaze, shy beneath his unyielding attention. “I’m really not,” she replied, taking another sip to hide her sudden rush of nerves. “But… thank you.”

Harry’s lips curved into the faintest smile, though something in his eyes told her he found the statement too simple to convey how he truly felt. A beat of quiet followed—one of those moments that felt charged with unspoken confessions.

Finally, Y/n drew in a breath and turned fully toward him. “Ever since that night you drank from me—” She paused, conscious of how odd and intimate the words sounded, “—I’ve felt… alive in a way I never have before. It’s almost ironic.”

Harry’s eyebrow lifted. “Ironic how?”

She exhaled, struggling to describe the sensation that had been following her around since that night. “It’s like some part of me woke up. And I’ve been trying to figure out if it’s about… you, or what you did, or both. But everything is sharper. Colors seem brighter, food tastes better, I have more energy—even when I’m tired, it’s like my mind is in overdrive.”

He listened carefully, leaning in slightly. “Does it frighten you?”

She took a moment to consider that. “No,” she admitted. “Not exactly. If anything, it’s… exhilarating. But there’s something else, too. A sense of needing—wanting—to be near you. I can’t tell if it’s emotional, or if it’s because of whatever happened with the bite. Or both.”

Harry shifted closer, until there was just a whisper of space between them. “When we feed,” he said softly, “we exchange more than just blood. There’s… an energy to it. A bond that can form. It doesn’t always happen—but when it does, it’s intense. You feel a rush of vitality, and I…” He hesitated, searching her eyes. “I feel everything you feel.”

She swallowed, heart thudding. “So you know this… longing I’ve been feeling?”

He nodded, gaze skimming her features. “I do. And it’s not one-sided.”

Her breath caught, every nerve in her body suddenly aware of the nearness of him—of his faint, familiar scent, of the cool touch of his hand resting on the cushion between them. Setting her wineglass on the table, she turned so that her knees brushed his.

“You said you don’t usually bite people… that it’s rare,” she said, her voice hushed. “Why me?”

Harry reached for her hand, running his thumb softly over her knuckles. “From the first moment I smelled your scent, I knew there was something… unique about you. But it wasn’t just that.” He lifted his gaze, the intensity in his eyes making her chest tighten. “Getting to know you—talking with you—made it impossible to stay away. I couldn’t ignore the pull.”

She squeezed his hand, feeling an inexplicable surge of relief and excitement at the same time. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

His eyes traced her face as if memorizing every detail. “So am I.”

In the quiet that followed, the only sounds were the soft hum of the city beyond the windows and the faint ticking of an antique clock somewhere behind them. Y/n’s heart pounded, equal parts curiosity and desire swirling in her. She carefully shifted, turning more fully to him, and he let his hand drift to her knee, cool fingers just pressing through the fabric of her jeans.

Their eyes locked, and in that moment, Y/n felt once again that rush of life—of every cell in her body awakening. She had a million more questions swirling in her mind, but as she watched his expression soften, she decided the answers could wait. Right now, she just wanted to bask in the warmth of being here, in his world, in his arms.

“I want to stay,” she whispered.

He leaned in, just enough that she could see the subtle shape of his fangs behind those parted lips. “Then stay,” he murmured, as though it was the simplest request in the world.

Y/n’s next breath felt shaky with anticipation as she reached out and lightly brushed the hair from his eyes. She couldn’t help but smile, heart fluttering in her chest. Leaning closer, she closed the small distance between them—letting the moment swallow them both whole.

They continued kissing, breaths mingling in the low-lit bedroom as Harry carefully lifted her into his arms. Y/n let out a soft laugh, both surprised and exhilarated by his effortless strength. Her fingers threaded through his curls as he carried her down the hallway and into a warmly lit room that felt at once cozy and steeped in untold history.

He set her gently on the edge of a wide bed layered with plush blankets. The scent of him—like aged wood and something faintly sweet—seemed even stronger here, and it sent a pleasant shiver through her. Harry sat beside her, one hand resting on her hip, his lips never straying far from hers. In between slow, languid kisses, he eased them both down until they were lying side by side, the world outside fading to insignificance.

Y/n’s hands slid up the planes of his chest, coming to rest over his shoulders. There was a coolness beneath the warmth of his skin, and something about that contrast, that blend of what he had been and what he was now, made her heart pound.

They lingered like that for a while—just quiet touches and shared breaths—until her mind, always swirling with questions, finally nudged her to speak. She drew back slightly, searching his gaze.

“I want to know everything,” she murmured, brushing a thumb over his jaw. “About you… about your life before… all this.”

Harry’s expression softened, though there was a flicker of caution in his eyes. His hand drifted up to tangle gently in her hair, as if grounding himself with her presence. “That’s a long story,” he said quietly.

Y/n’s lips curved in a small smile. “I’ve got time.”

He took a breath, an unnecessary habit for him, but it seemed to help him gather his thoughts. “I was born in the late 1800s,” he began. “England. A small town, really no big cities around, no tall buildings, no electric lights. My family worked the land. We weren’t rich, but we managed.”

She inched closer, wrapping one arm around his waist. “And you? What was life like for you back then?”

A wistful look crossed his features. “It was… simpler, I suppose. Harder in some ways—less medicine, less comfort but simpler, too. Days began when the sun rose and ended when the candles burned out. My main concerns were harvests and family, making sure we had enough food for the winter.” He paused, letting out a soft laugh tinged with nostalgia. “Never imagined I’d see a century turn, let alone two.”

Y/n’s fingertips moved idly across his arm, feeling the lean muscle beneath. “How old were you when it changed? When… you changed?”

He exhaled slowly, eyes drifting up toward the ceiling as if searching distant memories. “I was barely in my twenties. Not much older than you are now. I was visiting London for the first time—wide-eyed, excited to see the world beyond my village. I didn’t know… what was waiting for me in the city’s shadows.”

She swallowed, torn between fascination and an ache of sympathy. “What happened?”

His gaze flicked back to hers, and his hand resumed its gentle stroke through her hair. “I was attacked. It wasn’t romantic or… even intentional, I think. Just a creature someone like me, but feral who lost control. Left me for dead in an alleyway.” A faint, humorless smile touched his lips. “But I wasn’t exactly dead, was I?”

Y/n’s fingers tightened on his arm. “That sounds terrifying.”

Harry’s eyes darkened briefly, as if recalling the horror. “At first, it was. Waking up in a state of hunger I couldn’t comprehend… instincts tearing at me.” He paused, then shook his head with a sad, small smile. “I was alone for a long time, trying to figure out how to live… or not live… with what I’d become.”

Her heart twisted at his words, and she shifted closer, pressing the warmth of her body against his cool side. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, voice laced with genuine compassion. “No one should have to go through that alone.”

He studied her for a long moment, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “It was a different world then,” he said softly. “But I managed. Eventually, I found others like me who helped me learn control, taught me how to exist alongside humans without hurting them. Still… it leaves a mark on you.”

Y/n laid her head against his shoulder, comforted by his arm curling around her. “Have you ever wanted to be human again?”

Harry stared at the faint lines on the ceiling, silent for a moment. “Sometimes,” he admitted quietly. “Especially when I see people living ordinary lives—growing old, having children, passing on their stories. That’s something I’ll never experience.” His gaze flicked to hers, and the weight of his centuries pressed in his eyes. “But then I think about how much I’ve seen and done, how many places I’ve been, and I realize… there’s beauty in this existence too.”

She leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his jaw, then settled back against him. “Thank you for telling me,” she said, voice sincere. “I know it can’t be easy to relive all of that.”

Harry’s embrace tightened, and he pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “You make it a bit easier,” he murmured. “Easier than it’s ever been, most people aren’t as understanding.”

They let a comfortable silence stretch between them, a quiet acceptance passing in glances and soft touches. His story was a glimpse of the countless tales locked behind his eyes—stories she yearned to uncover. And although those revelations carried their share of darkness, Y/n felt no fear. Instead, she felt an inexplicable pull, deepening her bond with this man who was so much more than human.

Eventually, she shifted, meeting his gaze once more. “If you don’t mind,” she said gently, “I’d like to hear more. Someday… everything you’re ready to share.”

A ghost of a smile curved his lips. “Someday,” he echoed, fingers trailing down her arm. “For now, let’s just… stay here. In this moment.”

Y/n propped herself up on one elbow, her gaze roaming over Harry’s face. He was stretched out beside her, the lines of his expression shadowed by centuries of caution and uncertainty. The longer she looked at him, the more her heart ached to close the distance that still lingered between them—those unspoken fears that came with loving someone not quite human.

She reached for his hand, weaving her fingers through his. “I know it won’t be easy,” she began, her voice hushed. “That it’s dangerous. That… you move around a lot. You’re not like other guys I’ve known—”

He let out a low, almost humorless laugh. “That’s putting it mildly,” he murmured, lifting their joined hands and pressing his cool lips to her knuckles. “I’ve never exactly fit into the ‘boy next door’ category.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “That’s fine by me,” she said, inching closer. “I’m not looking for normal. I’m looking for… you.”

Harry’s expression turned solemn, and he threaded a hand gently through her hair. “You say that now, but if you knew half the dangers—” He broke off, his jaw tightening as though wrestling with words he didn’t want to voice. “There are things about my life that you might not be ready for. Having to uproot everything at a moment’s notice, hiding what I am, never really settling down because… eventually, people notice if you never age.”

Y/n’s chest twisted at the pain lacing his voice. She moved even closer, close enough that the faint warmth of her breath fell against his cheek. “I’m willing to deal with that,” she said softly. “All of it. Because I’ve never felt this connected to anyone before, Harry. I don’t even know how to explain it—you pull me in. I can’t imagine just walking away.”

He studied her, his gaze drifting from her eyes to the shape of her lips, down to the small marks on her neck where he had once bitten her. With the faintest exhale, he closed his eyes. “I don’t want you to regret this,” he said at last, voice tight with emotion. “My life… it can be dark. Lonely. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Her hand slid up to cup his cheek. “You keep saying that,” she whispered, “It’d hurt more to walk away from you now.”

Harry’s lids lifted, revealing the turmoil in his green eyes. Hesitation warred with yearning; centuries of caution battling a desire he couldn’t quite deny. “You’d have to give up so much,” he said, almost pleading with her to see the weight of her choice. “Routine, stability, your friends, your family—everything you’re used to. I’m not sure when or where I’ll have to go next. You’ll have to stay unchanged to live life. I can’t take that away from you completely.”

Y/n pressed her forehead to his, heart hammering with both fear and exhilaration. “I’m not saying it won’t be scary,” she admitted. “But it’s scarier thinking about my life without you in it, you’re what I’ve been looking for.”

A shuddering breath escaped him. His arms slid around her, drawing her closer until her head rested against his chest. He said nothing for a moment, simply letting their breathing synchronize. She could feel the cool edge of his body against her warmer one—tangible proof of the gulf between them, and yet how perfectly they fit.

“You’ll regret it if I don’t at least try,” she added gently.

He closed his eyes again, his fingers splaying across her back. “Maybe,” he murmured. “But I don’t want you to lose yourself in all this.”

Y/n swallowed, considering his words. “The only thing I’m afraid of losing,” she whispered, “is you.”

Silence wrapped around them like a fragile promise. Outside, the city hummed with its usual nighttime pulse, but here, in the glow of a single bedside lamp, it felt like they inhabited a small, separate universe. Finally, Harry kissed the crown of her head, the gesture carrying centuries of guarded emotion slowly breaking open.

“All right,” he said, voice ragged with vulnerability. “We’ll figure it out—together. Like I said one step at a time.”

Y/n exhaled in relief, her grip on his shirt relaxing now that she had his answer. She tilted her face up, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to her lips, quiet but brimming with all the words he didn’t know how to say yet.

In that unspoken understanding, they both knew the path ahead would be full of risks and sacrifices—but also the kind of profound connection most people never got to taste. So they clung to each other, heartbeats out of sync but souls inexplicably twined. 

When Y/n stirred the next morning, she first noticed the unfamiliar softness of the sheets beneath her cheek. A slow smile curled her lips as the events of the previous night settled over her like a warm blanket: Harry’s stories, the gentle brush of his lips, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand. She drew in a breath, catching that faint, comforting scent she’d come to associate with him—woodsmoke and something sweet, a blend as mysterious as the man himself.

She pushed the covers aside and sat up, brushing hair away from her face. Through a thin slice of the drawn curtains, she could see a pale light creeping in. Morning already, she thought. Time felt like it had slipped away the moment she’d laid down in Harry’s arms.

A subtle clink of dishes from beyond the bedroom drew her attention. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, padding barefoot along the hall to find Harry waiting in the open kitchen. The space was just as eclectic as the rest of his apartment: modern appliances set against old-world touches—like a vintage spice rack and a wrought-iron pot hanger that looked centuries old.

“Morning,” she said, voice still husky with sleep.

Harry turned at the sound of her voice, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. His curls fell loose over his forehead, and he wore a simple black sweater that set off the striking color of his eyes. “Good morning,” he replied softly. “I, um… stepped out for a bit.” He gestured to a small paper bag and a to-go cup on the counter. “I don’t really—well, you know. But I wanted to make sure you had something to eat.”

Heat rushed to Y/n’s cheeks at the thoughtful gesture. “You didn’t have to do that,” she murmured, moving closer.

“Maybe not,” Harry conceded, “but you were sleeping so peacefully, and I wanted you to have breakfast.”

She peeked into the bag, finding a warm croissant and a small container of fruit. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since the night before. Sliding onto a stool by the kitchen island, she offered him a grateful smile. “Thank you. Seriously.”

Harry leaned his elbows on the opposite side of the counter, watching her with quiet fascination as she took a bite of the croissant. Flaky layers melted in her mouth, and she let out a blissful hum.

“Good?” he asked with a crooked grin.

“Delicious,” she confirmed, taking a sip from the to-go cup—coffee, just how she liked it. “You remembered,” she added, a bit surprised he knew her coffee order so well.

“I’m observant,” Harry teased, then shrugged. “Plus, you always write it down for your customers at the café. I picked up a few details.”

She rolled her eyes in playful exasperation. “Stalker.”

A quiet laugh escaped him, but the affectionate warmth in his gaze spoke volumes. He let her enjoy her breakfast in comfortable silence, occasionally handing her napkins or topping off her coffee from a French press he’d warmed on the stove. She couldn’t stop smiling at how domestic it felt—a far cry from the chaotic, surreal realization that he was a vampire who’d once drunk her blood.

When she finished, Harry straightened, gesturing down the hall. “If you’d like, the bathroom’s yours. Fresh towels are on the shelf. I figured you might appreciate a shower.”

“That sounds perfect,” she admitted, sliding off the stool. She paused, glancing down at her wrinkled clothes from yesterday. “I don’t suppose you have anything else I could wear?”

Harry’s gaze flicked across her face before he nodded, lips quirking. “I’ll find you something.”

A few minutes later, Y/n was standing under the warm spray of the shower, water cascading over her shoulders. She let out a contented sigh, savoring the simplicity of this moment. Her life felt turned upside down in the most extraordinary way—yet here she was, in his apartment, feeling oddly safe. Even the scent of his shampoo, musky and faintly spicy, was a comfort.

She stepped out, wrapping herself in a thick towel, and found a neatly folded shirt and her jeans waiting on a small wooden bench. She recognized her own jeans, but the oversized shirt was definitely Harry’s—soft cotton worn in all the right places, with sleeves that hung past her elbows. Slipping it on, she inhaled discreetly, catching his lingering scent in the fabric.

I could get used to this.

When she emerged, hair still damp, she found Harry back in the kitchen, rinsing dishes. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, his gaze lingering on the way the shirt dwarfed her frame. A smile ghosted across his lips, equal parts affection and attraction.

“Looks better on you,” he offered, gesturing to the shirt.

Y/n felt a thrill race up her spine. “It’s comfortable,” she admitted, giving the hem a playful tug. “Thanks.”

He turned off the water and set aside a mug, then reached for a kitchen towel. “I forgot to ask, did you sleep okay?” he asked softly.

The unexpected concern warmed her chest. “I slept better than I have in a while.” she said, not bothering to hide the sincerity in her tone. “I always hated sleeping alone.”

Harry’s eyebrows flicked upward, and a gentle expression settled over his face. “I’m glad,” he murmured, crossing the space to her. His hand lifted as though to tuck her damp hair behind her ear, a gesture she was starting to recognize as one of his quiet intimacies. “I wasn’t sure if it’d feel too strange to wake up here.”

She looked up at him, her heart giving a little flutter. “Honestly? I’m still processing everything,” she admitted, “but I don’t regret it. Not for a second.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The world outside was all rain-soaked streets and city noise, but in this apartment, everything felt warm and still. Harry’s hand lingered near her cheek, fingertips grazing the collar of his shirt where it rested against her collarbone.

“Stay as long as you want,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “If you need to head to work, I can drive you. Or you can… hang out here until you’re ready to go.”

She weighed the options, a small smile touching her lips. “I do have work later,” she acknowledged, “but not for a few hours. If you don’t mind the company…”

He shook his head, his own smile soft and quick. “I don’t,” he murmured. “In fact, I’d prefer it.”

Y/n felt that familiar tug of connection—the same magnetic pull that had defined their relationship from the start. Without overthinking it, she stepped closer, lifting herself just enough to brush her lips against his. He was cool against her warm skin, and the contrast sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

Breaking the kiss, she rested her forehead against his, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I’m not sure how any of this is supposed to work or if it’s even going to work,” she whispered, “but I know I want to at least try.”

Harry’s arms slid around her waist, keeping her close. “So do I,” he promised quietly.

With that, they settled into the soft hush of the kitchen. The rush of the morning, the shower’s warmth still clinging to her, the taste of coffee lingering on her tongue—and his steady presence at her side. It was anything but ordinary, yet it felt wonderfully, undeniably real.

Harry slipped an arm around Y/n’s waist, drawing her close in a slow, gentle movement. The warmth of her body pressed against his cool chest made a pleasant shiver run through her. He bent his head until his nose was near the curve of her neck, and she felt him inhale—long and deep, as though savoring every note of her scent.

“You smell… so sweet,” he murmured, his voice a velvety whisper. “Almost… too good.”

She swallowed, heart thudding in her chest. “Should I be worried?” she asked, her tone light but her eyes searching his face. “About your self-control?”

Harry let a low chuckle escape him, though there was an edge of tension in his expression. “My self-control is… typically very strong. But I have to admit,” his gaze flicked to her throat, then back up to meet her eyes, “you make it difficult.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered in equal parts excitement and caution. It was easy to forget the danger underlying his nature when he was being so tender and thoughtful. But moments like this—when she could practically feel his hunger just under the surface—were a stark reminder of what he truly was.

She brushed a hand over his cheek, feeling his cool skin under her warm fingers. “I don’t want you to lose it,” she said softly, a hint of concern threading her voice. “But… I’m not scared.”

Harry’s eyes reflected a swirl of emotions—desire, conflict, gratitude. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers, and she could sense how carefully he controlled his breath.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promised, voice low. “It’s the one thing I refuse to do.”

Y/n’s lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. “I believe you.”

For a moment, they stayed like that: foreheads touching, arms wrapped around each other, letting the city’s distant hum fade into a quiet hush. Despite the tension humming just beneath his cool exterior, she felt safe in his arms.

He slowly pulled back, eyes flicking between her lips and her throat. “One day,” he murmured, almost in a self-deprecating tease, “I might have to invest in a good scent blocker—or work on my restraint even more.”

Y/n’s laugh was breathy as she stroked a thumb gently across the side of his neck. “Or, I could just keep a stash of blood bags around to distract you.”

Harry blinked, then let out a real, easy laugh—a genuine sound that lit up his eyes. “I suppose that’d be one way to go.”

She grinned. “See? Problem solved.”

His laugh subsided into a lingering smile, and he shook his head in mild wonder. “You don’t even flinch talking about that. About what I am.”

Y/n pressed her lips together, feeling the honesty in her chest. “It’s part of you, and I… want all of you.”

Harry’s grip tightened slightly around her waist, and in that moment, she glimpsed a flash of that quiet hunger in his eyes. Not just for her blood, but for her presence—no longer wanting to be alone. She moved in first, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his lips.

When they parted, she rested her head against his shoulder, listening to the city beyond.

Harry, despite the centuries he’d lived, looked at her like she was entirely new—worth every ounce of restraint. 

She felt certain of one thing: she wasn’t afraid.

[revelboo]

Do you know what this beautiful world is lacking? TFA Shockwave interacting with a human reader… Like imagine it: Shockwave being sent to Earth to grab stuff for fixing Omega Supreme and reader just to happens to be there in the wrong place at the wrong time: In the middle of a firefight between Shockwave and the Autobots?

Sure! Sounds fun (not for reader, though) plus I feel like he’d just be extra unsettling all the time

Safe In The Dark

TFA Shockwave x Reader

• You hear the first scream, but can’t tell where it comes from. See car doors opening ahead of you. People bailing and running. And then you catch a glimpse of something huge. Heart stuttering, you can’t tear your eyes away. Trapped in horrified fascination as car alarms go off and there’s an explosion. And you realize you’re the only one not running. Too scared to move as you begin to tremble. See a car go flying and see the first monster.

• Autobot scum. Driving him back through sheer numbers as he returns fire. Metal crunching under his peds as he steps back on a car. Retrieving more parts and materials was necessary. A calculated risk. But he hadn’t expected this much of a response. And he can’t be captured, his knowledge too dangerous to fall into Autobot hands. Can’t fail Megatron. Can’t fail his mission. To be captured and outmaneuvered by weak minded little Autobots? Unacceptable.

• Unhook the seatbelt. Get out of the car. Now. Your hands won’t move off the wheel. Won’t stop shaking as the truck in front of you gets shoved back and hits your car. And then you can move. Scrambling in a panic and unable to figure out the seatbelt as the bigger purple monster falls beside your car. There’s an impression of size. A huge red optic seeing you as it struggles to right itself. Seatbelt finally releasing, you throw open the door to run only to get grabbed. Screaming as you’re squeezed in that grip, the monster holding out his arm and the other monsters faltering. “Trust me, I’ll delight in crushing this little insect,” it snarls at the others as you struggle to get free.

• Of course they won’t risk hurting the pathetic, little organic. You might just be useful. Straightening slowly, he tightens his grip when one of the Autobots moves as if to flank him and you scream louder. “What color are they inside? I know I’m curious,” he taunts as he keeps backing up. Just needs to get clear of the cars littering the road so he can transform. But if he lets you go, they’ll immediately attack again. Same thing will happen if he just crushes you. If he takes you, though? Will they risk harming you to stop him or will their code of honor mean letting him escape so you might live? Little fools.

• That head turns to stare at you and your skin crawls. There’s no face there, no expression, but you’re sure this thing doesn’t care if you live or die. That you’re nothing to it. It’s backing away from the others still, holding you out between itself and them. Using you as a living shield. And you want to cry out for help, but there’s no one around but you and the monsters. Caught in the middle because you’d been too scared to react in time. And you’re yanked back against the one holding you, screaming all over again as it comes apart and reforms around you, taking off with you as you hyperventilate.

[dood-itsradical]

Have I ever tell y'all that jake kim is my fav? Yes? Well you'll be hearing it from me again ehehehehe + f!reader is sinu's sister.

Don't you just love it? Saturday, no work. Weather is nice. Not too hot, not too cold. Waking up on a soft bed, soft pillows. With Jake naked with you.

...

With Jake naked with you?!

Sitting up abruptly, gripping on your blanket once you realise how bare you. You face Jake. Jake only started to get fully conscious. Taking his precious time to lick his dry lips, rubbing his eyes and blinking at you. It took him like a good ten seconds to realise.

He was first to scream. You then scream with him. He points at you. You point back. You pull the blanket close to you. He cover his tattooed body with his bare hands. The screaming continues.

Jerry burst in the room immediately. The door broke in half, JAKE! WHAT'S GOING ON?! ARE YOU OKAY?! WHAT HAPPENED?!" The big guy turned speechless at the sight.

To Jerry, it was an honest mistake. To you, it is too. But to Jake, it's like he have commited a big ass sin.

"SINU, PUNISH ME AS MUCH AS YOU WANT! I DONT DESERVE TO LIVE!" Jake hit his head on the solid ground multiple times. He forced his knees to hurt. You also kneeled beside him, somewhat guilty and embarrassed of what happened. You're on a same page, thinking it felt wrong to sleep with the current Big Deal's boss. Who is also your brother's best friend.

Sinu Han stand there with a sheepish look, "Jake, you're exaggerating. I already respect both of your relationship." But Jake wouldn't budge, believing that he deserve anything that comes his way to make up from his mistake.

"But I never ask for her consent! I didn't even remember what I did. There are bruises everywhere on her body! What kind of monster am I? I should be punished immediately!" His firm voice muffled from below, he could've sworn he swallowed a rock.

Your felt your face heating up. Curse Jake for having no filter when speaking to Sinu. But he's right about something. You don't even remember what happened. You felt slightly sore and noticed few marks during shower.

Sinu sighed with slight amusement. He doesn't even opposed to the idea of Jake and you dating. He encouraged it even. You two always have been close so it's only fair to tied that knot. Literally.

Then he snort before burst into laughter. It catches everyone else off guard and confused. Especially you. What is it that he found it funny?

The laughter slowly died down as Sinu wipe his tears. "Oh, I'm not angry. You guys are like two peas in a pot. About time anyway." He crouched down and rest a hand on Jake's shoulder. "If you felt that way towards her, it's me who should be lucky. You're already a brother. I wouldn't have anyone else to look after her."

Your heart fluttered at your brother's words. Sure he's a sentiment by heart, but you didn't get to hear that all day. You could only give a grateful smile.

However his words seem to be left hanging by Jake. Confuse, Sinu shakes him slightly. "Jake?"

Slowly, Jake raised his head comically to reveal his sobbing mess self, shocking both you and Sinu. Tears and snot running down on Jake's face as he sniffles violently. "Th-ank you..." He hiccups. "I'll take good care- of her, Sinu. I swear on it."

Sinu's lips curled with satisfaction alongside you. You chuckled warmly at the sight.

Masterlist

[noxitsnox]

your first date with hyun-ju — headcanons

hyun-ju x gn!reader

summary: the first time you asked her out and how the night went.

tags: pre/no squid game, fluff fluff fluff, shy hyun-ju and shy reader (it's their first date, okay? they're both awkard), they kiss like once towards the end, mention of being tipsy (?)

a/n: i can't believe i've read all the x reader under her tag... i need more fics or i'll actually explode.

she moved in a house near yours, but you two never really talked to each other until almost a year after.

you were walking home after shopping when the bag containing the fruit broke. you were desperately trying to follow and catch every apple and orange that was rolling on the ground, but it with both your hands full of bags it was difficult.

thankfully hyun-ju was passing by and seeing you struggling she decided to catch them for you and help you carrying your groceries home.

you were really grateful and to thank her you offered her a coffee and some cake you baked a couple of days earlier. at first she refused, telling you she didn't want to bother you and take away any of your time, but you insisted.

after that day you two slowly got closer and closer and not so slowly you started to have a crush on her.

even though you felt like hyun-ju liked you too it took you months to ask her out.

you wanted the moment to be perfect but it never seemed to arrive.

at the end, you asked her out after dinner. that night you went over to her house for dinner as you would usually do and by the end of the night you two were both a little tipsy.

"i want to go out and have dinner with you," you said randomly while clearing the table- she already started washing the dishes. "you just had dinner with me, silly." her laughter filled the small kitchen. you pouted and approached her, staring at her for a few seconds before speaking again. "i mean, i want you to be my date at dinner, not my best friend." her face lit up red and she whispered a little oh.

definitely not the perfect moment you had imagined, but it worked. you and her went on a date the week after.

you booked a table at a restaurant near your home. it was nice but not too fancy and it was close enough to walk that.

that night she met you outside of your house to walk together to the restaurant. Her look was very simple but that didn't make her less beautiful. she was breathtaking. and you told her obviously.

since this is setted during the very early stages of her transition i think she'd wear something like black somewhat-baggy trousers a some cute shirt/tank top.

her hair are styled as usual, but she would have a hair clip the same color as her shirt.

it was extremely awkard ay first. It seemed like all the complicity you had was gone and replaced by tension and embarrassment.

but by the time the food arrived things went back to normal. you realized that there was no need to act different. hyun-ju was still hyun-ju and you were still you.

and now that's the best night of your life.

you stayed at the restaurant until closing time- when they practically kicked you out- telling each other about your lives, dreams and everything.

you said goodbye in front of hyun-ju's house and there you shared your first kiss together.

it was a simple kiss on the lips that she gave you as you were leaving, but it was still enough to male you smile like an idiot the whole night.

a/n: i definitely did not chose her outfit based on the only thing I've been wearing for like the past two years

[ikkyfics]

Unspoken Words

James Potter x f!reader

Summary: The two of you started finding each other almost naturally, as if something drew you together in the midst of the darkness. It wasn’t planned—it never was. Maybe it was the need to remember that you were alive, that there was still something beyond the war, beyond the blood and the fear.

Warnings: during the first wizarding war, sensitive content, angst, with changes to suit the context

Masterlist

The chaos of war offered no respite. Each day, the shadows seemed to creep closer, swallowing everything that had once been beautiful or hopeful. You lived with a constant knot in your stomach, an unrelenting weight pressing against your chest every time the clock marked another day. You knew you weren’t the only one. No one was safe. Not in those times.

The missions for the Order were growing more dangerous, and every return felt like a miracle. Adrenaline coursed through your veins like fire, burning away your strength, your faith, until all that remained was exhaustion. You could see it in the others too, especially in James. He tried to hide it, of course. Always with that cheeky smile, a joke ready on the tip of his tongue, as if the world around him wasn’t falling apart. But his eyes told a different story.

There was a shadow there, something you hadn’t seen before. A weight on his shoulders that didn’t belong to the James you once knew. He was the kind of person who lit up any room he walked into, but now, even that light seemed dim, almost extinguished.

The two of you started finding each other almost naturally, as if something drew you together in the midst of the darkness. It wasn’t planned—it never was. Maybe it was the need to remember that you were alive, that there was still something beyond the war, beyond the blood and the fear.

That night, the Order’s base seemed quieter than usual. The group had just returned from a brutal mission. You could still smell the smoke clinging to your clothes, the memory of chaos etched into your skin. Your mind was so saturated that you didn’t even notice when James entered the room.

He didn’t speak at first. He just looked at you. And there was something in his gaze that made your heart stop for a moment—something raw, desperate, as if he were drowning and you were the only thing keeping him afloat.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low, rough.

You nodded, but it was a blatant lie. He knew it. So did you. But in that moment, words felt insignificant, hollow against the weight they carried.

“Come with me,” he said, reaching for your hand.

You didn’t hesitate. You let him lead you, climbing the stairs to one of the rooms in the base. The door closed behind you, muffling the distant sound of voices downstairs. There, in the quiet of that space, it felt as if the world outside ceased to exist for a brief moment.

James approached slowly, hesitantly. His fingers brushed against your skin, trailing up your arm until they cupped your face with a tenderness that contrasted with the desperation in his eyes. “Just… just help me forget, even if it’s only for a little while,” he whispered.

And that’s exactly what you did.

There were no sweet words, no whispered promises in the dark. Just two bodies seeking warmth in the cold of war, hands grasping tightly as if trying to keep each other from vanishing. It was raw, intense, heavy with emotions you didn’t dare name.

Afterward, as you tried to catch your breath, he held you. There was no need for words in that moment. He simply held you, his fingers tangled in your hair, as if he needed you to remind himself that he was still alive. And you realized you might need him in the same way.

There was something unbearably painful about it all. Because even in that moment of closeness, you knew you couldn’t ask for more. You couldn’t let yourself wish for something the war could snatch away in the blink of an eye. And as you looked at James, while he closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh, you knew he felt the same.

The days passed in a blur, a mixture of missions, losses, and heavy silences. With every new departure of the Order, the tension in the air became almost palpable. You knew what each departure meant, each Apparition to an unknown place: a real chance of not coming back.

James seemed to feel it more intensely when it was you who left. He never said it outright, but you could tell by the small gestures—how he sought you out before every mission, how his fingers lingered just a little longer than necessary when adjusting the collar of your coat, or how his gaze seemed to fix on you, as if he were trying to memorize every detail.

“Be careful,” he said every time, his tone firm but laced with something that made your chest tighten.

“I always am,” you replied, a short smile that never reached your eyes.

He exhaled softly, as if your answer wasn’t enough. “I mean it. If something happens to you…” He stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

“James…” you began, but he shook his head, cutting off any attempt to comfort him.

“Just… come back. Promise me you’ll come back.”

You always promised, even though you both knew it was a promise neither of you could truly keep.

And he seemed to cling to that, because every time you returned, there was a renewed urgency in his embrace, as if he needed to reassure himself that you were there, alive, whole. He held you with an intensity that made your heart race, that made the world outside disappear completely.

“I thought…” he began one night as the two of you lay side by side, the room lit only by the faint moonlight streaming through the window. He paused, his voice faltering.

You turned to him, resting your chin on your hand, waiting for him to continue. “Thought what?”

“That you wouldn’t come back today,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “And I don’t know what I’d do if that happened.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of his words settling like a stone in your heart. But you didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Because even in that moment, when he seemed so vulnerable, so honest, you knew the war didn’t allow for more than this.

Instead of responding, you reached out, entwining your fingers with his. It was a small gesture, but it felt like enough. At least, for that moment.

The missions continued, and with them, the distance between you seemed to grow in a way that felt almost cruel. But the moments you shared, though brief, were enough to keep you connected.

One night, after an especially dangerous mission, you entered the base with your body exhausted and your heart heavy. James was there, waiting. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, but as soon as he saw you, his face softened, an obvious wave of relief washing over him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, crossing the room in two long strides.

“I’m fine,” you replied, even though you weren’t. But James didn’t seem convinced.

He cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on your cheeks. “I don’t know how you do it,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Do what?”

“Come back in one piece when everything around us is falling apart.”

You didn’t respond. There wasn’t an answer that could ease his worry, and you both knew it. So instead, you let him pull you into a tight embrace, his warmth anchoring you in the chaos.

“Promise me you won’t put yourself in danger for anyone,” he whispered against your hair.

“You know I can’t promise that.”

“Promise anyway.”

There was something in his voice that made your chest ache, a tremor he tried to hide but that you could feel.

“I promise,” you said, even though both of you knew it was a lie.

That night, when he took you in his arms again, there was an urgency in his touch, an intensity beyond anything you’d shared before. As if he were trying to etch every piece of you into his memory, as if that was all he could hold onto.

And as you lay together later, his fingers tangled in your hair, you realized you were completely lost. You loved him. Loved him with a force that left you dizzy, with a desperation that made your heart ache.

But the war didn’t allow for that kind of love.

And in the silence of that night, you wondered how much longer you could both keep pretending this was enough.

The Order’s base was shrouded in a strange, heavy silence, as if the walls themselves knew what had transpired that night. The mission had been a disaster. A plan that had seemed solid crumbled under the unpredictability of the Death Eaters. An ambush. You’d barely escaped—but not all of you. A part of you could still hear Caradoc’s scream as the curse struck him. And though you knew there was nothing you could have done, it didn’t make the weight in your chest any less unbearable.

You sat in a corner of the makeshift living room, the smell of smoke and dust still clinging to your clothes. Your hands trembled slightly as you tried to process it all—the faces you’d never see again, the void each loss left behind.

That’s when James appeared.

He entered the room with quick strides, his eyes scanning until they found you. The relief on his face was immediate but was quickly replaced by something darker, heavier. He crossed the room in a few long steps, stopping right in front of you.

“Why do you do this?” he asked, his voice low but laced with tension.

“Do what?” you replied, exhaustion making your voice barely audible.

“Put yourself in danger like this.” He knelt in front of you, his hands gripping yours tightly, as if afraid you might disappear then and there.

“James, I didn’t have a choice,” you tried to argue, but he shook his head, his eyes shining with a mixture of anger and desperation.

“You always have a choice,” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. “I saw you out there. You could have protected yourself. You could have gotten out before... before that happened.”

“And leave everyone else behind?” you countered, your voice finally gaining strength. “You know I can’t do that.”

“I don’t care about everyone else!” he exploded, his voice echoing in the empty room. Then, as if realizing what he’d just said, he lowered his tone, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I care about you.”

The words hung in the air, weighted, making your heart falter. James looked away for a moment, his fingers still clutching yours as though they were the only thing keeping him anchored.

“I can’t…” He paused, his voice breaking. “I can’t lose you. Not you.”

“James...” you began, but he raised a hand, silencing you.

“Just listen,” he said, his voice raw. “I know this... all of this is chaos. And I know nothing we do here is safe or fair. But every time you go out there, I’m left... I’m left thinking the worst. Imagining what it would be like to come back here and not have you here anymore.”

There was something so vulnerable in his gaze that you felt a physical ache in your chest. He looked like a man on the edge of a cliff, holding on with the last of his strength.

“And I don’t know what to do with that anymore,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Because no matter what happens out there, you always come back. But what if one day… what if you don’t?”

You could feel the tears forming, burning behind your eyes. The words were stuck in your throat, a knot impossible to untangle. He didn’t need to say more. You knew what he meant, and you knew you felt the same.

“I promise,” you finally whispered, your voice trembling.

James looked at you, his dark eyes locked onto yours, as if willing himself to believe every word you spoke, even knowing he couldn’t.

“Promises mean nothing in war,” he said, his lips curving into a bitter smile.

But he pulled you closer anyway, his warmth pressing against your face, his fingers threading into your hair. The embrace wasn’t gentle; it was desperate, as if he was trying to hold you together while he still could.

And in that moment, with the world crumbling around you, you made your decision. You couldn’t keep those words to yourself any longer. Not after this.

James held you like you were the only solid thing in a world falling apart—or perhaps it was he who feared unraveling. His fingers, hardened by battles, were unbelievably tender as they brushed against your skin. The warmth of his palm on your cheek was an absurd contrast to the coldness you felt everywhere else. And as he looked at you, there seemed to be a war waging within him, something he wanted to say but couldn’t.

But you could.

The years of silence, of swallowed words and repressed emotions, weighed on your chest like a million tons. You had sworn to yourself that you wouldn’t say anything, that you wouldn’t burden him with the responsibility of responding to something so immense in such uncertain times. But now, seeing him there, as human, as broken as you were, it didn’t feel like you had a choice.

“James…” you began, your voice low, hesitant, but heavy with everything you felt.

He blinked slowly, his deep blue eyes locking onto yours. You saw the moment he realized. The moment he knew what was coming.

“No,” he said, the word barely a whisper.

Your throat tightened, but you pressed on. You had to.

“I can’t keep this in anymore,” you said, your voice cracking. “I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t matter, because it does. It matters more than anything.”

James shut his eyes tightly, as if your words caused him physical pain. When he opened them again, they glistened, a mix of emotions you couldn’t fully decipher.

“Please, not now,” he pleaded, his voice rough.

“Why not?” you asked, the pain evident in your tone.

“Because I don’t know what to do with it,” he admitted, the words spilling out quickly, desperately. “Not now. Not when everything is like this. Not when I can’t promise I’ll be here to… to give you what you deserve.”

His honesty cut through you like a blade. He wasn’t trying to push you away, wasn’t rejecting what you felt. He was scared. Scared of you saying those words and him not being there to hear them again the next day.

“James…”

He interrupted, leaning closer, his hands cradling your face as if you were the only thing holding him together.

“I know,” he whispered, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. “I know what you feel. I feel it too. But… please, wait. Just a little longer. Let me do this right.”

You wanted to scream. To tell him there wasn’t time, that tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, that he needed to know now. But the vulnerability on his face, the intensity in his gaze, stopped you.

Instead, you nodded, even though every fiber of your being wanted to do the opposite.

“I’ll wait,” you whispered.

James exhaled deeply, as though he’d been holding his breath since the beginning. And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t like the other kisses. There was no rush, no raw desire like so many times before. It was slow, almost painfully so, as if he were trying to memorize every detail, every sensation. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that seemed to defy the chaos around you.

When he pulled back, James’s eyes stayed on yours, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ll always come back,” he promised, his voice steady, though the faint tremble in his hands betrayed the fear he was trying to hide.

You wanted to believe him. You needed to believe him.

But deep down, something in you knew that promise was as fragile as the world you lived in. And as he pulled away, his fingers sliding slowly from your face, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change forever.

Even so, you let him go.

And in that moment, as the door closed behind him, the weight of the unsaid words pressed on your chest in a way that almost suffocated you.

There had been something different in the past few days. A pause in the storm that was the war, as if, for a brief moment, the world had forgotten the chaos. The attacks had lessened. There had been no losses in weeks. And, strangely, James seemed lighter.

The shadow that usually lived in his eyes, heavy with loss and responsibility, had vanished. He smiled more, even laughed, as if there was something out there, on the horizon, that made him believe in a future. You didn’t dare to ask what it was, but you saw it in every little gesture — in the way he looked at you, as if he were holding onto a secret, something he was just waiting for the right moment to share.

It was comforting and terrifying at the same time. War was no place for hope, and yet there it was, stubbornly lighting up James Potter like a flame that refused to go out.

But that night, something was wrong.

You felt it before you knew it. Like an invisible weight pressing on your chest, an unease you couldn’t explain.

That was when the news came.

“The Ministry was attacked,” someone said, their voice urgent and fearful. “Death Eaters. Multiple injuries.”

The world stopped for a moment. The blood in your veins turned to ice. You knew he was there.

“James,” you whispered, his name leaving your lips like a silent scream, even as your mind refused to accept what your body already knew.

Without thinking, you Apparated. The air around you seemed to shatter as you moved, the magic yanking you violently to the scene of the attack.

And then you saw him.

Amidst the chaos — the ruins of the partially destroyed Ministry, the screams and moans of the wounded echoing in the distance — he was there. Fallen.

The sight of him lying amidst the wreckage hit you like a blade to the heart. Your mind rejected what your eyes were seeing. James couldn’t be… He couldn’t.

You ran to him, your knees hitting the blood-soaked ground with a force you didn’t feel. Your entire body was numb, consumed by waves of relentless agony.

“James!” Your voice tore from your throat, hoarse and desperate. Your hands trembled as you touched him, brushing blood-matted hair from his forehead. He was so cold. Motionless.

“Please, no. James, open your eyes. Talk to me!”

You pulled his body into your arms, ignoring the blood staining your clothes, your fingers pressing against the side of his neck, searching for a pulse. Nothing. Your heart begged for a miracle that would never come.

“Don’t do this to me!” your voice cracked, and hot tears streamed down your face, mingling with the dirt and blood. You clutched the front of his jacket, shaking him gently, as if that could bring him back.

“James, please. You said you’d come back. You promised! You asked me to wait!”

Your chest heaved with broken sobs, the air feeling like poison as you yanked at the blood-soaked fabric of his jacket. That was when you felt something hard and unfamiliar in one of the pockets.

Confused, trembling, you reached for the object, pulling it out. It was a small velvet box, now stained with blood.

The world stopped.

Reality hit like a punch to the gut. You knew what it was before you opened it. Your hands shook so badly you almost dropped the box, but somehow, you managed to open it.

Inside, a ring glinted.

And then everything collapsed.

The pain was no longer a wave; it was a flood, drowning you in grief. He had been planning to propose. That was the reason for the light in his eyes these past few days. The hope he had carried.

“James…” your voice was a whisper, trembling, as you held the ring in one hand and his face in the other. “You can’t… You can’t leave me like this. I love you.”

The words finally came out, but it was too late. He would never hear them.

“I love you!” you shouted now, your voice breaking into a cry of pure agony. “You weren’t supposed to do this. You were supposed to stay. You were supposed to… hear me.”

You pulled him closer, holding him so tightly your arms ached. It was as if physical pain was preferable to the crushing weight in your chest.

A hand rested on your shoulder.

You flinched, your heart racing, and turned your head to find Sirius, looking as devastated as you felt. His expression was a mixture of grief and concern, but you recoiled as if he meant to take James from your arms.

“No!” you screamed, clutching his body to you. “Don’t take him from me! I won’t let go!”

Sirius tried to speak, but his voice failed him. Remus appeared just behind him, his face so wrecked he looked like he was holding himself together by sheer will.

But none of it mattered. Nothing in the world mattered.

“I didn’t say…” you sobbed, your words fragmented as you buried your face in James’s bloodied hair. “I didn’t tell you I love you… I should have said it. I should have…”

You rocked his body gently, as if the motion might bring him back to life, as tears fell uncontrollably. It was unfair. Cruel.

And the ring box, still clutched in your blood-stained fingers, felt like the final blow — a reminder of everything that could have been and never would be.

[mizusbabygirl]

special ᥫ᭡. 🐰

futa kang no-eul x fem reader ────୨ৎ──── cw: no-eul has a dick (sorry to all the dick hating lesbians), reader gives no-eul a handjob, reader gets degraded by no-eul, no-eul has a drinking problem, no-eul is a horndog and will possibly fuck you in public if she wanted to, no-eul breeds you, reader has a pregnancy scare

you woke up after pulling an all nighter for no reason. you rolled out of your bed and looked at the clock to see that it was 4 pm and that meant that you basically spent the entire day asleep. you didn’t even know if it would be appropriate to even eat breakfast at this hour so you went to the kitchen and chewed on a breadstick to get rid of your hunger.

you didn’t really have any friends besides this woman who lives in her car. you don’t remember how you met her but all you know is that you occasionally go to her car to get her cigarettes, soju and beer bottles.

that evening, you went to the local convenience store to buy a few beer bottles for her since you haven’t seen her in over a week so she must’ve thought you forgot about her. as you made your way out of the shop, holding a bag full of beer bottles, you went back into the shop to buy a small cake.

it was pretty foggy outside so it made it quite hard for you to find your way through the fog. soon after, you found her car parked in the same lonely parking lot you’ve always found her in. without hesitation you walked up to it and knocked on the window.

no one answered, so you took a closer look into the window to find her sleeping. you found yourself admiring her sleeping soundly like a baby. suddenly, she got up and opened the door for you.

“no-eul, i brought you seven beers and a cake for us to share,” you said with enthusiasm but her face looked sad. her face looked like she has been crying a lot. her eyes looked teary and sad and you felt pity for her so you got closer to her. “what’s wrong?” you ask her as you wiped her tears with your thumbs. she didn’t answer you but instead she pulled out one of the beer cans you bought and she pried up the can’s tab with her index finger and chugged the beer down. your eyes widened with amaze as she squished the can flat with her hands and dropped it aside.

“you can have some, you bought them,” no-eul spoke up but her voice sounded raspy. you got worried that she might’ve catched a cold. you refused her suggestion since you hate the taste of beer or any alcoholic beverage in general.

she chugged down beer after beer after the bag was empty. once she was down to the last one, she looked frustrated to find out that the bag was empty. “i’m sorry i couldn’t get you more! i promise, next time i’ll bring you fifteen cans!” you apologized as you noticed her eyes slowly closing.

“mhm…” no-eul mumbled as she fell asleep on your lap, making it impossible for you to leave.

you noticed a large bump growing in her pants which made you worry a bit but you didn’t want to wake her up for that so you fell asleep as well.

as you were lost in your own sleep, you began to hear wet slapping noises but you were too lost in your sleep to even try to make an effort to wake up. you began hearing whines and moans which really made you want to wake up to see what the fuck was happening.

your eyes flew open and looked around the dark car only to find no-eul zipping up her pants and buckling her belt. “no-eul, were you fingering yourself?” you asked with a shaky voice as she nodded her head. “well not exactly— you see—,” she hesitated. your face looked even more worried wondering what intimate thing she was doing. the worry in your face caused her to start sweating, drops of sweat beading her forehead.

“please don’t tell anyone—i have a special body type..” no-eul said as she gripped onto your wrist, not allowing you to leave the vehicle. “may i see?..” you asked with curiosity. no-eul slowly unbuckled her belt and unzipped her pants, pulling down her boxers and letting out 8 inches of hard dick spring out.

your jaw dropped; you’ve never seen something like this, you felt mesmerized like a child being brought to the amusement park for the first time. “holy fuck. were you born like this?” you leaned in to take a closer look at it as she nodded.

the first thought in your mind was to go ahead and wrap your hand around her cock.

“i’m fucking crazy for even thinking about this,” you thought to yourself.

the silence in that moment was loud, you could even hear your own heart pounding in your chest. you reached your hand over and wrapped your hand around her large shaft causing her to gasp out.

it felt sticky, it felt right. you ran your hand up and down her throbbing dick, precum dripping on her tip. “you weren’t really fingering yourself, were you?” you giggled as you continued giving her a handjob. moans escaped from no-eul’s mouth, her dick growing harder and bigger as you touched the precum to trace it around her tip.

stroke after stroke, her dick ended up being fully covered in precum and her whines and moans made you want to go faster. “i’m gon’ cum, i’m gon’ cum,” no-eul repeated countless of times, giving you the sign that she was about to release.

finally, she let out a long rope of hot sticky seed out of her hardened used up cock. “you fucking slut..” she murmured as her eyes rolled up, shooting out her last cum shot.

“wish i could shoot that load inside you, baby,” no-eul murmured before falling asleep again with her cock still out.

you leaned into her ear and whispered, “let’s take this to my home,” you gave her dick a stroke “it looks like it still wants to release another load,” you said while giving her a wink.

she smiled at your suggestion. she buckled her belt and zipped up her pants, already looking forward to give you her best in your home.

you were stripped naked, her hands on your tits, roaming her hands around them, teasing your nipples. your body laying on your bed, your legs lifted with your knees against your chest, making you ready for her cock to enter you.

“oh fuck, i can’t resist you, oh fuck,” no-eul said while impatiently undressing herself, throwing her shirt over her head (she doesn’t wear a bra by the way so you got to see her tits), unbuckling her belt, unzipping her pants and pulling them down along with her boxers.

she spread open your thighs forcefully, her cock growing hard. “i’ll make it fucking fit,” she said as she aligned the tip of her cock against your pussy, tracing it around, getting your pussy wet and slippery. she finally slipped it right in, making a moan come out of your mouth.

her thrusts started off slow and gentle but she looked like she wanted more. “it’s too tight..” she said, giving your right tit a hard squeeze. her thrusts began accelerating, her dick adjusting to the tightness of your pussy.

you moan and moan, saliva dripping out of your mouth by the feeling of your pussy getting stretched out by her monster cock.

your boobs jiggled as she fucked you harder and faster, making the scene more pornographic. wet slapping sounds with the mix of the moans of both yours and no-eul’s filled the room quick.

her cock slid up to your clit accidentally, making her grunt and she used her right hand to stick it back inside of you. her moves were drastic, aggressive and scary. you could’ve sworn her cock could easily demolish your womb if she wanted it to.

just before you were about to squirt, she released a large amount of hot seed into your womb. she thrusted her dick as deep as she could inside of you to unleash every last drop of cum she had in her.

“i’m not done yet, i’m going to cum inside you till my sack is fucking empty,” no-eul uttered as she pulled out, her cum spilling out of your pussy. you were out of breath, you couldn’t say a word but you felt incredibly horny.

no-eul fucked you in various different positions throughout that night, breeding your pussy over and over again.

when you finished riding her cock, you leaned in to give her a kiss on her cheek, as a way to show some affection to her. you grew severely attached to her to the point where you refused to use any sort of protection so you’ll end up pregnant with her baby.

“you’ll be a good mommy, i promise,” no-eul remarked as she let out her last load inside of you, making you scream out loud.

you definitely got pregnant after that incident, don’t worry

making a futa se-mi (player 380) x fem reader soon!