#for me... sharing this chapter now feels like a full circle moment

[lynzishell]

So here we are

...again

[dashielldeveron]

cunning | shinsou x reader

Shinsou x Fem!Reader. BNHA spoilers for chapter 425. Note: written in a fervent haze backstage at a show I’m working and posted from mobile, so it’s much more casual than my normal stuff. ~1k words

You dragged Shinsou by his tie down the corridor towards the entrance to the stairs, and the moment you rounded the corner, you slid your hand up to grip the tie’s knot to yank his mouth down to yours. Shinsou flailed for a split second, as he always did when you initiated, as if he’s perpetually shocked that you would be so desperate for him, but he recovered, pursing his lips to return the kiss, casual, almost lazy about it—and he chuckled under his breath.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” You said with a huff, bitter you had to tear your mouth from his to speak, so you settled for pressing kiss after kiss along his jawline. “Couldn’t tell your girlfriend that you were finally transferring into the hero course—“

“It’d be suspicious if you’d been the only one without a reaction to Aoyama’s leaving, now, wouldn’t it?” Shinsou placed his hands, featherlight, on your hips and slid them up to your waist, where he tapped his fingers in a ripple. A vein in his neck visibly throbbed when you gave his tie another pull, and with a sly grin, he tilted his neck to expose more of it.

“Oh, you slut.” But you conceded, finishing your path to just before his ear and then trailed down his neck. “God, fuck,” you said, releasing his tie to wrap your arms around him, reaching up to grip the hair at the base of his neck, “I can’t—can’t believe after all of this, you wouldn’t share any shred of good news; God knows we need some after all of this—“

“I know, baby.” Shinsou pressed his lips to your forehead and nuzzled into your hair, guiding you back against the wall. “Am I not allowed a surprise every once in a while?”

“Shut—shut up,” you said, biting your lip, “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, your cunning nature wouldn’t be endearing. You’re a frustrating little sneak, y’know?”

“Yes, I like to think so,” said Shinsou, grinning toothily in the moment before he lifted your chin with a tap of his finger to kiss you again. This time, he returned your fervour, connecting his lips to yours, varying pressure as he pleased, letting your tongue flick at his coconut-pear chapsticked lips before finally opening his mouth. His tongue pressed against your gums in that slow, teasing way he liked, and he tilted his head to the side to reach the roof of your mouth.

When he suddenly broke from you, you let out an honestly embarrassing whine, and he rubbed his thumb over your kiss-swollen lips. “How can I stop teasing you when I get looks like this afterwards? You’re adorable.” Shinsou’s eyes, full of mischief, flicked up to catch yours. “Want me to make it up to you?”

He always thinks he can talk his way out of trouble with you, and to be fair, he usually could. You couldn’t stay mad at this man. “Sure. Surprise me.”

“With pleasure,” said Shinsou, sliding his hand to cup your cheek, and when a crooked grin stretched across his face, the haze of his quirk floated through your mind.

Feeling light.

Distant.

But very, very happy. And teeming with affection.

For you, Shinsou’s quirk always felt like he was cradling you tightly, like his love could touch you. Like you were safe. Still cogent, still in the moment, but acutely aware you’d do what he’d tell you. Others probably felt scared under Shinsou’s quirk because he was scared of them.

Shinsou traced a circle over the edge of your cheekbone. “You with me, baby?” When you nodded, Shinsou kissed you again, slow to pull away, half-lidded eyes unbearably fond. “Then get close to orgasm. But don’t you dare come.”

You inhaled sharply. “Oh, you rat bast—“

And the hazy buzz of a building orgasm flooded you all at once. It’s shocking, really, an electric sort of whizz-bang, when it comes on so quickly—and you gasped, impulsively hunching over and knocking clumsily against Shinsou’s cheek, then clutching at his blazer lapels to hide in his chest. Warmth and static and fog and gosh, you were tripping over your own feet, and you’d thought Shinsou was trying to steady you when he gripped your hip, but no, his hand kept going to the swell of your ass and down to the underside of your thigh to yank it upwards, hooking it over his own hip. Staring you down while you struggled to even keep your eyes open, Shinsou rolled his hips into yours, and you just about cracked in half.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle the honest-to-God sob from how good it felt, how intense the blur and haze was combined with the distant-floatiness of his quirk, and Shinsou laughed to himself again before he buried his face in your neck, breathing you in, feeling you tremble while he ground into you, taking your other hand in his to lace your fingers together. Fuck, you were close; you were so damn close, but it’s like he’d set a lock on you, like you’d keep rolling that boulder up that hill, like—

“Ahem.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at Aizawa-sensei clearing his throat, but Shinsou didn’t rush as he dropped his brainwashing and surfaced from your neck, blinking blearily at your—your shared homeroom teacher, with crossed arms and Bakugou and Todoroki in tow, the former tactfully (embarrassedly?) looking away and the latter unable to tear his gaze away from you.

“Shinsou,” said Aizawa-sensei, as Shinsou dropped your thigh and disentangled himself from you, with heat burning your face to oblivion but Shinsou appearing annoyingly calm, “I was going to discuss your move into the Class A dormitory, but considering whom I had next door—“ Aizawa’s eyes slid over to you. “—I may have to do more planning.”

[f14fun]

pages and podiums (!author x op81) - chapter 1

synopsis: in which case y/n, an author hosts a signing and a read-out-loud of the final installment of her book series in new york city. oscar, lost in the big city, stumbles by the bookstore and is immediately intrigued by her (and her books).

prose (3.3K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | next ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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There was nothing I liked to do more than write stories.

Well, reading them came in a close second, but being able to tell a heartfelt tale coming from the inner depths of my heart, and sharing that emotion with an audience really, is the best thing that could ever happen to me.

That's how I found myself newly graduated from New York University, sitting in a relatively popular bookstore, sat in the corner of the shop with my books surrounding me. The bookstore was a quaint little gem nestled in the heart of Greenwich Village, its walls lined with shelves brimming with literary treasures.

The warm, inviting atmosphere was a stark contrast to the bustling city outside. My table, adorned with a modest sign displaying my name and the title of my latest book, was strategically placed near the large bay windows, allowing the soft afternoon sunlight to spill in and create a cozy nook.

As I arranged my books, carefully stacking them in neat piles, I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment and anticipation. This bookstore had been a frequent haunt during my university years, a place where I sought refuge and inspiration amidst the chaos of assignments and deadlines. Now, returning as an author, it felt like a full-circle moment—a dream realized in the most poetic of settings.

I was hosting a book-signing and read-out-loud for the last installment of my book series.

It was quite early in the afternoon, but never too early in the Big Apple. As it neared one o'clock, I was lost in the tranquility of it all. The shop had quieted to a dull lull.

It was lunch hour, and people were busy munching away on salads, sipping their lattes and iced-coffees, and eating finger-held pastries.

The clinking of silverware against porcelain plates created a rhythmic background hum, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or murmur of conversation. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet scent of pastries, creating an intoxicating blend that seemed to energize the entire space. Some patrons sat alone, engrossed in their books or typing away on laptops, while others gathered in small groups, their animated discussions adding to the lively ambiance.

The bookstore café, with its rustic wooden tables and vintage chairs, was a popular spot for locals and tourists alike, a perfect retreat from the frenetic pace of the city outside. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow on the faces of the patrons and illuminating the colorful spines of the books on display. It was a picture of serene contentment, a snapshot of everyday life unfolding in the heart of the city.

It was a sleepy time too, everyone tired from the consumption of their lunches. It was a relaxing time, and I was glad to have the time to myself, which contrasted the terribly-busy morning I had. Signing books and talking to fans nonstop from eight to twelve.

But I was eternally grateful for them.

Without them, I would quite literally be homeless on the scary streets of New York City. Their compassion and appreciation for my work kept me writing.

I was interrupted from my moment of solitude when I heard the bookstore door suddenly swing open. It was quite an ordeal as well, as the rusty, copper door hinges squeaked loudly when opened, disrupting the ambiance of the shop. Heads turned briefly toward the entrance, curiosity piqued by the unexpected noise. A gust of cool air rushed in, carrying with it the faint scent of rain from the gathering clouds outside.

From where I was sitting, adjacent to the door, I spotted the new customer. Or at least, he was an unsuspecting customer.

Standing awkwardly with his two feet pointing in opposite directions and his nervous hands fiddling with each other, I could tell that he looked inexplicably lost. With a bewildered look on his face, he looked like the opposite of a native New Yorker.

He stood in the doorway for what felt like a minute, inquisitively grappling with his new surroundings. His eyes darted from shelf to shelf, taking in the rows of books with a mixture of awe and apprehension.

He wore a slightly rumpled graphic t-shirt and shorts, his brown, mousy, tousled hair suggesting a hurried departure from wherever he had come. The contrast between his uneasy demeanor and the bookstore's cozy, relaxed atmosphere was almost palpable.

As he lingered by the entrance, other patrons glanced up briefly before returning to their books and conversations. The young man seemed to be in his own world, oblivious to the mild interest he was generating.

His fingers tapped nervously against his leg, and I noticed he kept glancing at a slip of paper he held, as if seeking reassurance from whatever was written there.

The longer he stood there, the more out of place he seemed, like a character from a different story who had wandered into the wrong book.

Finally, he took a tentative step forward, then another, moving slowly into the bookstore’s warm embrace. His eyes continued to scan the room, perhaps searching for a familiar face or a sign that would guide him to his destination.

There was something almost endearing about his uncertainty, a raw vulnerability that made him stand out in this city of confident strides and determined gazes.

From my vantage point, I watched him with a blend of amusement and empathy. I remembered the feeling of being out of place, the hesitance before taking a plunge into the unknown.

It was a moment of silent kinship, two strangers connected by the shared experience of navigating the unpredictable terrain of life in the city.

He was sort of cute, in an awkward way. His tousled hair gave him a boyish charm, as if he had just rolled out of bed and rushed to get here. He had some sort of a crooked smile, one side of his lip lifting higher than the other. He was tall, with a lanky frame that made his awkwardness even more pronounced. His long legs seemed to have a mind of their own, fidgeting and shifting as he stood in the doorway, adding to his endearing clumsiness.

The way he towered over the small tables and chairs made him look slightly out of place, like a gentle giant in a world built for smaller people. Despite his height, there was nothing intimidating about him. Instead, his gangly limbs and hesitant movements gave him an almost childlike innocence.

His eyes, bright and inquisitive, roamed the room with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. There was a spark of intelligence in them, hinting at a thoughtful mind behind the awkward exterior.

He was different, a moment of slowness. Different from the fast, bustling energy and the fast-paced life the city offered. As I continued to observe him, our eyes met. It was a fleeting moment, but there was something in his gaze that beckoned him to cross the room to meet me.

With a deep breath, he finally took a step forward, his tall frame weaving through the tables and chairs with cautious determination. As he drew closer, his awkwardness seemed to melt away, replaced by a quiet confidence.

“Hi,” he said, his voice carrying a rich, unmistakable Australian accent. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m a bit lost.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the accent and the admission. “Lost? In a bookstore or New York City?” I asked with a playful smile. “Because either way, that’s quite the adventure for an Australian.”

Oscar chuckled, his crooked smile widening. “Both, actually. My phone’s dead, and I’ve been wandering around for a while." Oscar’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke, and a faint blush spread across his cheeks. He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking slightly embarrassed." I’m just visiting for work, and I think I’ve wandered a bit too far.”

“Well, welcome to the Big Apple, Oscar. I’m Y/N,” I said, extending my hand.

He took it with a firm shake, his eyes brightening as he glanced around the bookstore. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. So, any tips for a lost Aussie in the city?”

I enjoyed the nice handshake, noticing how his hand seemed to slot perfectly with mine, the warmth of his palm against mine sending a faint shiver up my arm. I blushed slightly, a feeling of unexpected warmth spreading through me as I glanced down at the table where a loose slip of paper lay forgotten.

Gathering my bearings, I leaned in with mock seriousness. “Well, first tip—don’t trust the pigeons. They might look innocent, but they’re secretly plotting world domination.”

Oscar laughed, a genuine sound that filled the space between us. “Noted. And here I thought they were just after my lunch.”

“You’ve got to watch out for those New York pigeons,” I continued with a grin. “They’re a sneaky bunch.”

Oscar leaned closer, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Do they have a vendetta against Australians too?”

I chuckled, remembering a particularly humorous incident. “Well, let’s just say they’re equal opportunity offenders. Once, on my way to NYU, one of them decided my freshly washed hair was the perfect target.”

Oscar burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the bookstore and drawing curious glances from nearby patrons. “That’s terrible! But I have to admit, I can’t help but laugh imagining that.”

“It was a memorable day, to say the least,” I replied, joining in his laughter. “I learned a valuable lesson about looking up in the city.”

“Well, consider me warned,” Oscar said, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. “I’ll keep an eye out for those feathered troublemakers.”

I grinned mischievously. “If you see them starting to organize, run. Or carry a loaf of bread as a peace offering.”

Oscar chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind. But if I end up covered in bird droppings, I’ll know who to blame.”

“You’re setting me up for failure,” he added with a playful glint in his eye. “They’ll definitely target me now.”

I couldn’t help but give him a sly grin. “Consider it a rite of passage in New York City. Once you’ve dodged a pigeon or two, you’re officially a local.”

Oscar chuckled at my remark, his eyes lingering on mine with a warmth that made my cheeks flush. “So, Y/N,” Oscar began, his tone suddenly more serious, “since my phone’s dead and all, do you mind if I stick around and keep you company? You seem like you know your way around here.”

I raised an eyebrow playfully. “Are you asking for a tour guide or just trying to charm your way into free coffee?”

He flashed a sheepish grin. “Can’t it be both?”

I chuckled, enjoying his easygoing nature. “Alright, Aussie. You’ve got yourself a deal. But fair warning—I give terrible directions.”

“Good thing I’m not in a hurry,” he replied with a wink, his attempt at flirting more endearing than smooth.

I smiled warmly at his playful remark, enjoying the easy flow of our conversation. "You're welcome to stay," I said, gesturing to the empty chair beside me.

Oscar nodded gratefully and smoothly slid over a chair, positioning himself directly in front of me. As he settled in, I couldn't help but notice how his earlier awkwardness seemed to melt away, replaced by a relaxed confidence that was inviting yet unassuming.

Sitting face to face with Oscar, making direct eye contact, I suddenly felt a shift in our interaction. It wasn't just a casual meeting anymore; it felt like a moment frozen in time, a bookstore date where we were the main characters in a story unfolding between the shelves of books.

His brown eyes met mine, and in that instant, I felt a sense of peace and comfort wash over me, as if I had found a familiar place where I belonged. We continued to hold each other’s gaze, sharing unspoken sentiments that seemed to weave between us like a silent conversation.

Unexpectedly, Oscar's smile turned cheeky, a playful glint dancing in his eyes as if he was having an internal dialogue with himself. He was the first to break eye contact, his cheeks tinted with a soft blush that crept up from his neck.

Despite his attempt to maintain composure, his bashfulness was endearing, adding a charming vulnerability to his confident demeanor. I couldn't help but find it incredibly endearing.

I watched as he glanced down briefly, a small smile playing on his lips as he collected himself. His gaze returned to mine, now tinged with a mixture of amusement and newfound self-awareness. It was a moment of mutual recognition, a subtle acknowledgment of the connection that had begun to blossom between us.

I smiled softly, realizing that despite the bustling surroundings, I felt completely at ease with Oscar beside me. It was as if we had stumbled upon a quiet sanctuary amidst the chaos of the city, where our shared laughter and exchanged stories were the only things that mattered in that moment.

Oscar leaned in slightly, his smile still playful. "You know, Y/N," he began, his voice carrying a hint of flirtation, "there's something about this bookstore that feels like it's hiding a secret or two. What do you think?"

I chuckled softly, intrigued by his observation. "Maybe it's where all the lost plot twists end up," I replied, meeting his gaze with a playful glint in my eye. "Or perhaps it's a portal to a parallel universe of unfinished stories."

He grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. "A bookstore as a gateway to alternate dimensions? Now that's a plot twist I can get behind."

"Who knows," I mused, leaning back slightly in my chair. "Maybe we're characters in someone else's story right now, and they're wondering how our plotline will unfold."

Oscar nodded thoughtfully. "You know, as much as I enjoy pondering these ideas, sometimes it leads me down a path of existential dread. The vastness of the universe and our place in it—it can be daunting."

I nodded in understanding, recognizing the weight of his words. "It's a lot to wrap your head around, especially when you start thinking about multiverses and infinite possibilities."

"Yeah," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "I try not to dwell on it too much. That's why I appreciate stories—they provide a narrative structure that helps make sense of it all, even if it's just for a moment."

"That's true," I agreed, feeling a deeper connection as our conversation touched on deeper themes. "Stories give us a way to explore those big questions in a way that feels manageable, contained within their own worlds."

Oscar smiled gratefully. "Exactly. They offer us glimpses into different perspectives and allow us to navigate through complex ideas in a way that's both enlightening and comforting."

I leaned forward slightly, intrigued by his introspective nature. "Do you ever wonder who you'd be in a parallel universe? What job you'd have?"

He chuckled softly. "Sometimes. It's a fun thought experiment, imagining different versions of myself in alternate realities."

Curious, I asked, "So, what do you do in this universe?"

He leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Guess."

I considered for a moment, trying to match his playful demeanor. "Acupuncturist?"

"Nope," he replied, shaking his head with a smirk. "Is that the best that you can come up with?" He said, teasing me.

"Quantum physicist?" I guessed, trying to make each guess more outlandish than the previous one.

"Not quite," he chuckled. "Do I really seem like the type to be in that job?" he asked.

"To be honest..." I trailed off, "Not really, no," I said quietly. Laughing at my honest response, he gestured with his hands, prompting me to guess again.

"Funeral director?" I ventured, this was literally a shot in the dark. If such a happy man was in such a depressing career I would immediately be so disappointed and sad.

"Getting warmer, but no," he teased. "Again, do you really peg me to be the type of person who would be a funeral director?" He asked again.

"No! I'm just guessing the most outlandish and random jobs," I held up my hands in mock frustration, pretending to surrender.

"Yeah I can tell, some of these jobs are quite random," he smirked. "But to be fair, my actual job is way more random than what you think it is, I genuinely bet you could not guess it," He provoked me again.

"Please do not tell me you work at a car dealership," I sighed in exasperation. Those people were the worst types of people to deal with as they keep pressuring innocent customers. God, I hoped Oscar wasn't that.

Oscar's face suddenly lit up. Shit, if that was his actual job...

"Close but no," Oscar's smile widened.

"What do you mean close but no?!" I got louder, the competitive spirit in me arising, "That's so vague"

"Okay, to give you a hint, it has something to do with cars," he said calmly. Ahh, that was much better, I see what he meant.

"Are you a tire technician?" I asked.

"Nope," he replied, popping the p.

"An auto-instructor?"

"Wrong, again."

"A diesel technician?"

"Loud, incorrect buzzer."

"That one guy that tests the car for quality issues... the quality control engineer!"

"Not it!"

"You're joking... right. I've guessed all that I know, and I really do not know much about cars in general, just tell me what it is, I give up," I said, finally exasperated as I went through all possible options of what Oscar did for a living.

Oscar leaned forward again, his smile widening. "I drive for McLaren Formula One."

My eyes widened in surprise, momentarily stunned by his revelation. "Seriously? Formula One? I would never have guessed that!"

He laughed at me, momentarily erupting into a guffaw at my blatant shock. "That is literally the most random job relating to cars, and it's motorsport, not just cars. I would have never guessed that, really!" I continued, still surprised.

"That's not fair, you shouldn't have made me guess. I didn't know you were famous," I said, teasing him lightly.

He grinned, clearly enjoying my reaction. "I guess I don't fit the typical stereotype, do I?"

I shook my head, still processing the unexpected twist in our conversation. "Definitely not. That's amazing, though. How did you get into that?"

Oscar leaned back, folding his arms with a playful air. "Well, it all started with a love for speed and a bit of luck. I've been racing since I was a kid, and somehow, it led me here."

"Impressive," I replied with a smile. "You must have some incredible stories from the track."

He nodded, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "Plenty. It's a world of its own, filled with highs and lows, victories and near misses."

"I can imagine," I said, genuinely intrigued. "It sounds like a thrilling life."

"It has its moments," he agreed, his tone turning thoughtful. "But enough about me. I want to hear more about you. What's your story, Y/N?"

And so, as the afternoon sunlight filtered through the bookstore windows, we continued to share stories and laughter, each revelation deepening our connection. Eventually, as the conversation naturally drifted to an end, Oscar leaned forward with a gentle smile.

"You know, Y/N," he began, his voice warm and sincere, "I've had a great time getting to know you today. Would you like to grab dinner with me later? Earlier I saw this dinner place on Google Maps that had splendid reviews."

Surprised yet pleasantly flustered by his invitation, I couldn't help but smile. "I'd love to," I replied, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of continuing our conversation beyond the cozy confines of the bookstore.

And with that simple agreement, like a chapter in a novel, our first chapter closed, leaving us both eager to see where our story would lead next.

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author's note:

ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾

(part TWO coming soon, comment if you want to be added to the taglist <3)

[essjujutsu]

CHAPTER SEVEN : VEGETABLE PASTA

prev , next , masterlist wc ⭑ 1k

you put your phone on your bed, checking your alarm clock.

shit, megumi would be here any minute now and you were nowhere near ready. you weren't even sure what the two of you were going to do. you really didn't want to be awkward.

you thought about what nobara said and took a deep breath, rushing downstairs to make sure everything was neat enough. normally, you wouldnt care about how presentable your house looked, but after seeing megumi's over the top perfect house—you didn't want to embrass yourself.

a few moments later, you heard a knock on your door. you quickly fixed up your hair and rushed over to the front door. you opened it, and saw megumi standing there, hands in his sweatshirt pockets. he looked effortlessly relaxed, a subtle sense of calmness about him that made you feel both at ease and a bit nervous at the same time.

"hey."

he entered with a polite greeting, his eyes drifting curiously around the house. you smiled calmly as you responded.

"hi, sorry i know the kitchens a mess...yuji asked if i could cook dinner tonight."

you replied, stepping into the kitchen and trying to move the ingredients yuji left out before he left. a wave of stress washed over you at the thought of cooking dinner; culinary skills weren’t your strong suit. your brother had always taken charge in the kitchen, and with him out late and sukuna working the night shift—the responsibility had fallen to you.

megumi approached quietly behind you, his presence calming as he spoke in a gentle tone.

"its fine, do you need some help?"

"you know how to cook?"

you asked, a bit taken aback. he seemed like the type to have private chefs or something. it surprised you even more that he was offering to help you out.

"yeah, my older sister taught me. what were you planning on making?"

“I’m not really sure.” you admitted. "yuji just set out a bunch of ingerdits we had so i woulnd't have to go to the store, but honestly it just made me more confused."

"well, you've got pasta—and vegetables. so we could make that."

he replied, grabbing the pasta and holding it up to you.

"good idea, that sounds easy enough."

"i'll do the pasta, can you chop vegetables?" he replied, tilting his head to you.

"of course i can, i'm not that bad in the kitchen."

he snorted as you opended up spotify on your phone.

"any song recommendations, chef?"

you asked, teasingly—a tone that rarely graced your lips.

"have you ever listened to weezer?"

he replied, his gaze fixed on the pot as the water boiled, steam swirling like a cool breeze in the air.

"wow, didn't take you as the type of guy to listen to weezer. you seem like the type who says they 'don't listen to music'"

"i'm actually full of suprises, y/n."

he spoke, the playfull banter lighting up the room as island in the sun played low in background.

you chopped tomatos and zucchini, words were absent, but the silence wrapped around you like a warm hug, more comforting than awkward.

"so, you exicted for this party next week?"

just as you tipped the vegetables into the pot of pasta, megumi’s voice rose above the gentle bubbling of the bowl.

"not really—you know im not a fan of partys. being around a bunch of drunk teenagers yelling at each other isn't really my idea of an amazing weekend."

he nodded, a sign of his agreement with you.

after the food was ready, the two of you sat at the small circle dining table that was tucked in the corner of the living room. megumi shared a couple funny storys of his dad satoru and his family. you told him about the time when you convinced yuji that megan thee stallion had died for a tiktok.

however, a sudden noise from outside interrupted your conversation.

as you heard the lock twist through the front door, you silently panicked. was sukuna home from work early? he wouldn't mind that megumi was over—but it would defiantly be awkward.

but the probably worse option was it being yuji, you had accidentally lied to him the night prior about who was coming over, and if he came in to see you and megumi hanging out together—

"y/n, you in here?"

the sound of your brother's voice sent a jolt of panic through you. You had to think fast, make up any excuse.

"y-yeah! just—"

"hey—wait, why's megumi here?"

"he, he came over today and we made dinner."

"i thought nobara was coming over?"

yuji looked confused, and you couldn't fully read his expression. was he mad, upset, or did he not care?

"uh, y/n?"

megumi spoke up, his brow furrowed in confusion, though he didn’t seem angry.

"i think maybe you should go home megumi, i kinda need to talk to yuji— i'm sorry."

he nodded and made his way to the door as yuji still stood in the archway to the living room looking confused.

after the front door shut, your brothers voice spoke once agian.

"why didn't you say megumi was coming over? i’m not mad, i just didn’t realize you two were hanging out like this"

"yuji! it's not like that!"

"well, sorry but it kind of looks that way."

you rolled your eyes at him, the scene reminiscent of your many childhood fights. you two were always close, but that didn’t mean you didn’t argue from time to time—this was just the first argument in a while.

you decided not to say anything more to him and headed upstairs. what didn't he understand? you hoped megumi wasn't upset, you made a mental reminder to explain to him at some point.

the night went on, and even in the small house, you succesuly didn't run into yuji for the rest of the night. each creak of the floorboards you heard in the home served as a reminder of his presence, yet you found solace in your bedroom.

as you went to sleep, you promised yourself that you would talk to him in the morning, once the both of you had a chance to cool off.

A/N : aigtphs is finally back!! sorry that it's been so long guys </3 and just a quick apology if this chap isnt very good, i wasn't really sure how i wanted to write yuji & y/ns fight but i think i got the point across! anyways thank u for reading and i hope u enjoyed :3 (not proofread)

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[eunivrse]

ASMR (VI) deal with the devil

# multi. aot characters / reader

─ you’d think crossing paths with the person who owns the voice you fuck yourself to almost every night would nearly be impossible, but then again, life is full of surprises.

chapter summary: everything you've done led up to this confontration. and now you're reaping the consequences.

content warning: nsfw (tbh just pure smut, breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, dirty talk, squirting), manipulation, complicated situationships, talks of porn and nsfw asmr

word count: 8.5k

quick note: hii hi i posted this on here for consistency purposes but the edited version of the previous chapters is only available on ao3 @ eunivrse

series m.list | next chapter

“Well, fuck.”

You aren’t sure if you cursed out loud, but the man in front of you seemed to have heard it as he clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue, a way of poking fun at you for being so startled.

“Um- where’s Eren?” Trying to cover your surprised expression, you coughed to clear your throat.

“He’s in class. Too bad he left his phone though.” The blonde feigns a pout, swinging Eren’s phone in between his fingers to show you that he’s the one that messaged you before he placed it back on top of his friend’s desk.

“What do you want from me?” You decided to be frank instead of prancing around the topic in hand. He wanted to finish the interrupted conversation he had with you back at the party, you were aware of that. At the time, you were glad Eren stepped in before things took too far, but this time Armin calculated his steps to ensure confrontation will occur.

You’ve already lost.

He chuckles, taking a few steps closer to you until you are about a foot apart. “Why so tense, love?”

“Because- you scare me.” Probably not the best to be upfront by telling him that he’s scary to his face, but if he’s going to approach you as such, you’re going to make sure you have the upper hand.

He walks past you without a word and down the little entryway that leads to his shared dorm with Eren.

You were dumb to not even realize that the other side of the room was his. Being so infatuated with Eren, your mind has been clear of Armin and Euphoria for the past few days now. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but the idea of it somehow didn’t cross your mind.

Your feet were moving on its own, to the bigger space where you were boned by Eren just a few days ago. Armin took a seat on his desk chair and patted the space next to him, his bed, as a gesture for you to sit.

For some reason, you followed. Your stomach was churning, swearing you could feel your anxious levels bubbling up inside of you, but still; you still did as you were told like a trained puppy.

It’s the small part of you saying that it’s the Euphoria calling you over even though it’s possible that Armin will ruin your image for knowing something you shouldn’t have.

Reputation isn’t something you value all that much, but having a horrible one amongst your circle wouldn’t be pleasant either.

You looked down on your lap as you explained before Armin had the chance to start his berating, “Armin- I know me knowing that you’re Euphoria might cause you some issues, but-“ turning your gaze to the man in front of you, you noticed how he stared at you with sincerity.

It was strange, no, Armin Arlert is strange. One moment he terrifies you then the next would be him giving you the most reassuring gestures.

It’s as if he’s toying with you.

“But- I won’t do anything with that information. I promise.” Your voice trails off in a whisper, trying to convince yourself that you aren’t scared by any means, but your body language is saying otherwise.

“I know you won’t.” His tone was slightly demeaning, a small smile forming on his face as he elaborated. “Everyone has their secrets. You reveal mine and I’ll reveal yours. An eye for an eye, right?”

“My secret?”

He beamed in amusement, “Word going out that you filmed and posted a sex tape with Eren is enough to ruin you, yeah?” Armin is enjoying every second of this, it was obvious in the way he spoke, his facial expressions gleaming with fascination.

You scoffed, an attempt of trying to hide the way you’re trembling in fear, “H-how-“

Armin interrupts. “How do I know? We’re best friends, honey.” The word ‘honey’ rolling past his tongue almost made it seem like he was looking down on you. You didn’t know an endearing word like that could come off so… condescending.

“Why… why are you doing all this?” This was all so complicated. Honestly, you just wanted sex, the last thing you wished for was to be knotted with someone who seems like has unhinged tendencies. Someone who’s willing to throw his best friend under the bus just to satiate his craving of getting what he wants.

“For fun. We don’t need to be philosophical about porn, darling.” It seemed genuine enough, his friendly shrug gave you enough of a hint that there was nothing deeper than just him having… fun. Even if that meant blackmailing you to keep himself entertained.

Continuing with his statement after it was silent for a split second, he went on. “Can I be honest? I like the thrill of being known as someone completely different online. But you know, I get upset when nosy people get in the way.” Obviously referring to you, you stay quiet, not sure what to reply with.

“Tell me, you listen to Euphoria don’t you?” It was humorous how immediate your nod was.

“Yes… I subscribe to your patreon too.” What you are trying to achieve by unraveling that information to him is beyond you. This was starting to pique your interest, just like how Armin wished to.

He jests, chuckling quietly, almost diabolically. A laugh that lasted too long as you just sat with your hands warming in between your thighs. “Hah… no wonder you figured it out so fast.” He paused then glanced at you, meeting your eyes.

It all happened so suddenly, he practically trampled onto you, his frame over yours, arms on each side of you as your back landed on his mattress.

Putting your veil of confidence back on, you asked, despite the awkward position you were placed in. “Hey, can I ask why you called me over in the first place if you knew I wasn’t gonna say anything?”

“You’re interesting. Connie… now Eren. ‘Just want to see what the hype is about. Aren’t you curious about what Euphoria can offer too?” He grinned and all you could do was nod as you stared at his pretty blue eyes.

Armin was more arrogant than you thought. Of course he is, there’s millions of people online fawning over his voice. And the man himself is right above you, face just millimeters from yours. You’re living the scenario his fans can only ever dream of while they touch themselves to the thought of this.

“And Annie?” You were pushing it with this one. While you trust Annie, it was obvious that she was keeping something from you. Not like it’s any of your business, but your curiosity got you to where you are, so you might as well ask.

But as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat.

His eyelashes flutter as he blinks twice, then he hangs his head down, quipping while he stays in position, “Annie? She blurted out that she needed fast cash. I gave her the opportunity to record a few audios with me, so she can get a portion of the revenue we make from those audios. I think we both know that she’ll never speak of it to anyone else.”

’Just decided to stay professional.’

It sparked a memory in you, when Annie herself said the same thing back then, but what’s giving you the chills is the sharp contrast between how they both spoke of each other. Annie obviously had affection for him one way or the other, but Armin speaks of her as if they were mere co-workers.

As if sleeping with her was just a job to him. So much for his way of charity, you joke to yourself.

It’s a little terrifying but in a good-way. He’s definitely your type in that case. Someone who wouldn’t get their personal feelings in the way.

You aren't sure if Armin is the one moving way too slow, or your mind is diluted into slime that everything was going on slow motion for you, but his lips were mellowed and sweet, you can taste the familiar cherry chapstick flavor as his tongue made it in between your lips and into your mouth. Your half-lidded eyes were now fully closed, arms around his neck and his knee in between your legs.

Heart was starting to race, thumps so intense that you wouldn’t be surprised if Armin could hear it himself. Bodies pressed up on each other chest-to-chest, his hands now cupped on your cheeks— it felt warm. Armin’s kiss felt like a fluffy blanket draped over you on a cool winter night, all your doubts and worries about him didn’t matter anymore, you just wanted him now.

You already knew his voice alone could drive you in a state of euphoria, but this is way better than you could ever imagine. He was more gentle than you assumed based on the audios and the backhanded threats, it’s as if he gave you a drug to relieve your brain from thinking too much of it.

All this from a mere lip-to-lip action.

He pulled off shortly after, your eyes opening gradually, the sun from outside blazing through the window. It was obviously noon, the daylight out and about, but you were already so horny, pupils glazed with lust.

Armin pushed his thumb down on your bottom lip, swiping across it, then watched it bounce back up as soon as he released his hold. “You looked pretty in the video.” He whispers.

“You watched it?” Being aware that someone who knows who you are has actually seen it led you to realize how embarrassing you were acting in the tape. How vulnerable you let yourself be under Eren’s command.

And more so now that the man behind the microphone is talking about it.

He smiles with a sense of warmth. “You’re a natural, I admit. My favorite part was when you begged Eren to cum inside you. Would you let me do that if it were me?” If anyone else had asked you this, it’d be an immediate slap to the face, but this is him talking to you in that voice.

The voice you spent months fucking yourself to.

And he knew that.

It was such an eager nod, if you weren’t trapped right now you’d probably strip yourself naked. “Yes… I’d let you.”

Armin grins, the pads of his fingers right on your clothed crotch. “Really? You wouldn’t mind if I cum inside that pretty pussy?” His words were pure obscene, your panties definitely damp at this point.

“No.” You felt your breathing hitch, Armin’s fingers circling on the layers of fabric covering your clit. It was obvious how keen you are, your hips pushing itself towards him to feel more friction. He didn’t care to take off your underwear, he slid his hand under the garment and flicked your clit with the tip of his finger, feeding off on your hums of approval.

Your heart was thumping against your rib cage, you’ve never been this visibly antsy before. His crystal blue eyes scanning your clothed body, lips curved up into a smirk while he slips a finger in between your plush folds. The way your walls would clench around his finger, your hands sneaking and traveling around his back, your whimpers were sensual, alluring.

He leans down, face buried on your collarbones, his teeth already nipping on your skin. Noticing the faint marks littered on your neck, he kisses each one, as if he was the one that planted them on you. “Did you have a good time with Eren the other day?”

You were caught off-guard, answering with a breathy ‘yes’ as he teases his finger in you with a slight curl, even though you were praising him, not answering his question.

“Really? Hm… I bet I can do better though.” It felt like just yesterday when you were intoxicated, ear right up against your bedroom wall, wishing you were the one Euphoria was cursing, praising, cumming to. Words that might feel needles against other’s skin felt like heaven to you only because it’s Euphoria.

He kneeled on the floor, pulling your ankles apart and sliding your bottoms down, underwear leaking with arousal. It tickled each time he kissed your thigh, lips trailing up to your most intimate parts. You pulled your underwear to your inner thigh for him and he blew on your clit, glistened with slick. Licking a long stripe up your folds, you gasped, hands grasping onto his hair.

Euphoria knew what you wanted and he dished it out on you on a silver platter. He chuckled against the heat of your cunt, swearing you could feel his fucking smirk on you, then his tongue sticking out and flicking your walls. His voice was low and gruff while he groaned into you, saliva pooling and dripping all over your pussy and down your ass.

He pauses and taps your clit with his fingers, your teeth gritting in hopes of suppressing your moans. He eggs on, “Your pussy looks so much better in real life. I’m a big fan of you, you know.”

“Big fan?” You faintly ask, your attention gathered.

“Yeah,” He kisses your inner thigh. “I’ve even imagined that it was me instead of Eren in the video. Pretty pathetic of me, huh?” Judging by his tone, the lines between his intentions are blurred.

Is he mocking or praising you?

“That’s a ballsy thing to say at our first proper meeting.” You laugh, head thrown back when he flicked the tip of his tongue on your clit.

“First?” He raises an eyebrow.

You couldn’t ask any further even if you wanted to, he latched his fingers on the nook of your inner thighs, pushing you apart and nibbled on your cunt like he hadn’t had breakfast this morning. Your stomach felt tight, eyes seeing blank.

It’s been your biggest wet dream to have this man in between your legs. Although you didn’t expect him to be someone like Armin Arlert. He’s just too… poise and put together. Who would’ve thought someone as perfect as him also had skeletons in his closet?

You wreck out a cracked sob, hands searching for something to grip on. Legs dripping with his saliva and your juices, he spits on your cunt, then uses two fingers to split your folds apart. He takes a moment to stare at the clear sheen of arousal coating your pussy before sighing as a sign of approval.

With his eyes glued to the orb of saliva threatening to drip down his ivory sheets, he puckers his lips and blows towards your clit, amused by your reaction which consists of a curse and a twitch, of which he found quite cute. He teases, “well aren’t you a dirty girl?”

You play along, “I learned from the best,” implying that he’s just as filthy as you are.

Armin slowly slips a finger in between your folds and down your hole once again, relishing in the warmth of your walls compressing him so tightly. His thumb worked circles on your clit while he pushed his index in as deep as he could. All you could do was breathe out whines, too stimulated to protest for him to go faster.

It’s insane how many varying feelings you’ve gone through for the past 20 minutes. At one minute your reputation is being threatened, the next minute, the man you’ve unknowingly been fucking yourself to has his head in between your legs.

He wraps one of his arms around your groin, palm squeezing on your inner thigh to keep you spread apart. Sighing, he curls his finger inside you before pulling it out and slipping it back in, this time along with his middle finger. Armin muses, “I wanna see you cum this time, okay love?”

Hearing him talk like this live, let alone to you directly— you honestly couldn’t ask for anymore. The natural husk of his voice only intensified the knot in your tummy. He hadn’t had his finger inside you for more than 2 minutes and yet you already wanted to cum.

You aren’t too fond of Armin and his borderline demonic tendencies, but you can never resist that sultry, angelic voice of Euphoria’s. Unable to form a cohesive response from the tightness in your stomach, you stutter, “Y-yes— ah—!” He flicks his thumb up and down on your clit as he pressed light kisses down your inner thigh, his lips making their way to your pussy.

Replacing his thumb with the tip of his tongue, he jerked the wet muscle on your clit, which evoked a gasp from you. “So sweet,” he praises, kissing your clit before sucking on it. His fingers gradually increased in speed, curling them deeper with each thrust, eventually reaching the spot that provoked a pornographic moan past your lips.

“God…” You groan, your hands reaching up to massage your boobs for more stimulation. The slick sound of his fingers plunging in you was enough to push you over the edge, until—

Click!

No fucking way.

Someone’s using a key to open the door, which could only mean one thing.

Eren.

You were still for what felt like minutes, Armin quickly helping you up. Getting back to your senses, you pull your shorts back up, nearly sprinting to sit on Eren’s bed as opposed to where you just were. There’s no use of hiding, it’ll just make the situation more suspicious.

You watch Armin wipe the sheen off his chin with the back of his hands, your legs still trembling from the tingle and the denial of a release as you compose yourself. Eren unlocked the door and each of his step felt like it was in slow motion. Even you being here seems a little… off. And it’s even weirder that it was dead silent when he came in.

“Hey… guys. What’s up?” He seemed ecstatic that you were here, although confused since he didn’t invite you or anything. And he knows that Armin wasn’t too happy about you.

Before you could even juggle for an answer, Armin stepped in. “She called and since you left your phone, I answered and said she could stay here until you come back.” The fact that he was so quick to make up such a blatant lie doesn’t even surprise you anymore. He’s been able to hide his other identity so well, now you have a deeper understanding of why he probably hates your guts.

You’re like a small crack in his life that will eventually spread to break him.

Eren fell for it, responding with a nod as he walked over to cup your cheeks, leaning down for a quick, yet sincere kiss. You smile against his lips, although slight guilt was looming over you as Armin just watched. He then grabbed his phone, patting Armin on the back, and whispering something against his ear before speaking to you again. “I’m sure you both know each other by now, no need for introductions, correct?”

You weren’t sure if he’s referring to the thick tension or the fact that you two are mutual friends, but nevertheless the suspense was starting to eat you from the inside.

“Yeah… We’ve all hung out before.” You shrug, honestly starting to feel awkward that no one is discussing the elephant in the room even though that’ll probably make things worse.

Armin sat back down on his bed and pretended to go on his laptop, Eren sitting next to you on his mattress. “So what did you call me for?” He asks, his palm rubbing your thigh. Armin side-glaring at you from a few meters away, practically telling you to not speak a single word about what just happened was enough to provoke a lie out of you.

“I just wanted to see you…” Your lips perk up into a feign smile.

Eren gleams, “Really? I was actually about to ask you if you wanted to go out with me this weekend.”

His beamed expression is something that you honestly couldn’t reject. And a date doesn’t mean a relationship right? You’ve only gotten to know him for a couple of weeks anyways.

And Eren definitely isn’t the type to be serious about relationships.

“A date?” You shoot a quick glance at Armin at which he just smiled and stared at you, watching you like a hawk.

“Doesn’t have to be, though I’d prefer it if it was,” Eren’s nonchalant attitude tells you he’d probably never asked anyone out for a genuine, wholesome date. He had just said it doesn’t have to be a date, and you kinda owe him anyway for helping you get back up on your feet even if he wasn’t aware, so why not?

“Okay. You’re paying for everything though.” You stick your tongue out, at which Eren scoffed at. Your agreement to this ‘date’ is also partly to take a jab at Armin. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, his fingers click-clacking on his keyboard without a care about your conversation. But you knew he was all ears.

You looked at the time on your phone and realized you have class in half an hour. “I have to go. I’ll see you Saturday then?” You stand up, Eren grabbing your hand as he followed.

“Yeah. I’ll text you.” He kisses your cheek before letting you go. You wave to Armin before twisting the knob to leave the room. The last thing you heard before closing the door was a “see you” from Armin.

Something tells you that you will��see him again before that meet-up with Eren.

---

Classes are over and you were laying on your bed, bored since everyone is busy and you’ve done everything you had to do for your classes, surprisingly.

For some reason, you were looking forward to hanging out with Eren. You didn’t really mind considering it as a date, you kinda miss the giddy feeling of getting ready and looking nice for someone.

During your moment of slight excitement, your phone dinged.

The number is unknown, but you knew who it was.

‘are we gonna finish what we started earlier?

Euphoria.

You gulped, yes, but you were wishing for this in the back of your head. There was nothing more you wanted than to have that man inside of you. Even if he’s a little crazy.

Typing, you respond, ’i’m free rn and annie isn’t here.’

That typing bubble felt as if it lasted way too long even though his response was just a mere, ‘what time will she be back?’

’not until a few days. she went home for the weekend’

The odds were in your favor, Annie took an early weekend and left a few hours ago to spend time with family.

He replied with a thumbs up, and you closed your phone, chest rising and falling, eyes glued on the ceiling.

---

The sun has set, the bright spring sky switching to its dark, gloomy counterpart. There were no stars, except for a few of which you can assume are just helicopters. It’s been a good 10 minutes since Armin had texted and as soon as it turned 9:00pm, you heard a knock on the door. You were quick on your feet to welcome him into your apartment.

Clad with an oversized shirt and his cargo pants, he walked in from the dark hallway to your humble abode, where you can clearly see that he’s wearing a pair of innocent looking glasses.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with this place,” you say sarcastically, Armin ignoring you and sitting straight at the dining table. You follow, pulling the chair from under the table and sitting across from him.

“So what do you want?” You might as well lay all your cards out if he’s threatening you.

He pushes the bridge of his glasses up to his nose. “A deal.”

Feeling a sense of deja vu, you repeat his words. “A deal?”

“Yes. Make content with me.”

You weren’t planning on retaliating, this has practically been what you’ve been fantasizing about since day one, however you weren’t going to let Armin get whatever he wants that easily.

“What’s in it for me?” You raise an eyebrow. Armin leans in closer, both elbows propped on the wooden surface with his fingers laced together.

“Half of what I get from each audio goes straight to your pocket. Isn’t that more than enough? But of course—“ His plump lips curve up into a smirk.

“I know the sex is something you’d enjoy as well.” The perverted words coming out from his mouth is a clear juxtaposition mixed in with his boyish appearance.

The silence was getting too thick, and Armin proceeded to explain, “As you know, Annie quit. I never planned on having a partner in my audios, however, ever since her appearance, my patreon subscribers have nearly doubled. Do you understand now?”

As much as the deal will benefit you tremendously, you couldn’t help but bring up the obvious. “What if Annie finds out about this?”

“If you’re feeling guilty, then you should know that she’s the one that broke it off with me. And it’s part of your job to be discreet about this. Tell one person, even Eren, and the deal’s off-“ He seemed as if he was going to say something else, however he kept his mouth shut.

“You’re acting like I would ever mention you to Eren. I’ve been sleeping with the guy for fuck’s sake. And plus, you aren’t really that special, Armin.” Your lip perked up into a small smirk, a little part of you hoping that your harsh words are jabbing his ego.

“Good. Keep it that way.” For some reason, his responses kept pissing you off.

You stand up and slam your palms down on the table. “Okay, I will! God, you’re insufferable.” Your face was heating up from built up wrath, Armin’s lack of response only making you want to flip the table over. The reason why you’re so angry is something you fail to answer yourself.

He stands up from his chair after a few seconds. “Oh really?”

“Yeah, you’re getting on my goddamn nerves.” You turn your face away from him.

That’s too bad…” Walking towards you, he grabs your chin to look him in the eye. His grip was tight, any longer and your face would bruise. You could see your vulnerable state through the reflection of his specs, his sapphire irises showed nothing but purity, yet his words were bordering evil.

“Fucking deal with it then.” He scoffed tauntingly before clashing his lips against yours. You clawed on his t-shirt as he transferred his bruising grip onto your waist, ultimately pushing you against the ledge of the table. The cold coffee mug that Annie left on top of the wooden slab rattled, but that didn’t stop you from pulling Armin by the collar and shoving him, the both of you switching positions. He whimpered against your mouth from the slight ache of his lower back, giving you an opportunity to slip your tongue inside, your teeth ramming into his bottom lip.

You pull out for a moment to get a breath of fresh air, panting in between soft kisses, “Let’s go to my room.”

Armin huffs, “Can I record?”

You roll your eyes, slowly inching away from him while having your hand twisted on his collar. “What else would you want to do this for?” It would’ve been easier to just say yes, but that just isn’t you.

By holding his wrist, you led him to your bedroom. When you get in, you turn around and he shows you his phone with a voice memo app on and recording.

Of course, your curious self also wants to know the specifics of his content. “Don’t you use a mic?”

He shrugs, and walks past you to place his phone face down on your nightstand. “Only when I’m alone, easier to manage and all.” He strolls towards you, cupping your face gently and using his thumb to caress your cheekbones.

Your cheeks were bunched up in his hand, lips forced into a pucker as he whispers, “Just pretend like the phone isn’t even there, okay?” With that, he locked his lips with yours tenderly, an clear opposition to his prior behavior. One of his hands is already under your shirt while the other is on your shoulder, slowly easing you into your mattress.

As you trail kisses from the corner of his lips down to his neck, you mumble, “I wanna suck you off…”, pausing him of his attempt on laying you on the bed.

He showed no sign of retaliation, urging you to unbutton his pants to pull it down. You kneeled on the carpet ground as his trousers reached his ankles, the rough surface prickling your kneecaps already. You notice a bump poking out of his boxers, the view of it all from just his toned thighs and the sneak view of his pelvis already got you gulping.

Curling your fingers on the garter of his underwear, you pull it down, his cock popping out in all its glory.

The description you’ve been picturing in your head about what this would look like is way better than what your imagination could fathom. His tip is flushed pink, just oozing with beads of white, and it’s long enough that it curves up, perfect for hitting that sweet spot of yours. There’s also a vein that protrudes through the middle of the shaft to the tip, your pupils dilating at the sight.

You’ve had your fair share of dicks, this one might be the prettiest one.

You shimmy a little closer to grab his cock for the first time and holy shit, it feels surreal. Palm wrapped around him, you start moving your hand up and down as your lips get closer to his tip. There were no reactions from him, you looked up and he just stared with a dull expression, arms crossed as if he was bored.

Well, that was the case until your lips made contact with the slit seeping with precum, licking it up and sticking your tongue out to show him what you’ve done. That whimper was a sign that you found his sensitive spot.

Well, that was fast.

You glanced up at him as you took his cock in between your lips. He grips his fingers on the back of your head and pushes you until his tip slammed the back of your throat. Squealing, he proceeded on using your throat as his personal flesh light, saliva frothing and dribbling down your chin.

“Oh- yeah, keep suckin’ it just like that, ah–” He chuckles, his cock nearly stretching your throat, swollen lips pressing up against his balls. You latched your nails onto his thick thighs for leverage, head bobbing up and down as your tongue swirled all around his lengthy cock. Tears brimmed your waterline, mascara staining your cheeks.

You were taking it like a champ, you barely made any gurgling noises that implied that you were gagging despite the minimal allowance he allowed you to breathe. He thought it was quite impressive.

Caving your cheeks in, you groaned from the pang of your jaw, the vibrations causing him to squirm. “Oh yeah… ah fuck yeah…” The series of whimpers and curses echoing around your room sent chills down your pussy, it really is so much better live.

You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself, amused at his change of tone just from a pair of lips on his cock.

The more you think about it, the more you’re starting to put the pieces on the puzzle. Armin does have a really distinct undertone of a British accent in his speech.

It’s not too noticeable to people who don’t pay attention, but in your case, you’ve heard hours worth of just his voice. When he’s under the facade of Euphoria, his deep, husked voice has that similar British accent, voice gradually becoming higher pitched as he reaches his high.

“Fuck baby, hah- you— don’t stop.” He mewls, voice strained, your chin soaked with saliva. You pulled off with a gasp, a strand of spit connecting your lips and his tip. Smirking, you palm his cock and jerk him off, blinking up at him with innocent eyes. He couldn’t protest even if he wanted to, only being able to moan until his throat went dry.

Clearing your throat, you taunt, “You’re so cute, can’t wait to cum in my mouth don’t you?” You hadn’t expected Armin to heed to you, he just nodded in desperation, his cock twitching the more you slid your hand along him.

“Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh fuckkkk— hah—!” He stiffens, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut as he lets it all spill out. It didn’t take long until you felt the strings of warm, ivory cum spurting all over your lips as he moaned out loud, nearly choking on his own saliva. You stood up, knees weak and wobbly, licking your lips to collect his seed in your tongue while you pulled him by the collar in for an eager kiss, forcing him to taste himself.

Parting from him, you grin, “You taste amazing.” self-confidence off the roof from making him cum as hard as his voice has made you these past months.

He laughs faintly, “It’s your turn, baby.”

The phone recording every sound you make had already slipped your mind by this point, as Euphoria would’ve preferred. You grab the bottom hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up and over his chest, which Armin was willing to do the honors of discarding it completely, letting it plop on the floor.

All you could think about was that Armin is fucking gorgeous. You just assumed he was cute and adorable because of his boyish complexion, but he’s built like a Greek statue under the sweaters and cargos he’s often clad in. His skin was smooth, arms toned, chest chiseled perfectly with his subtle abs, and a perfect v-line connecting to the sole thing you’ve been looking forward to feeling inside you.

Likewise, you cross your arms to take your top off to toss it somewhere in your room. Your lack of bra, nipples stiff and perked had Armin’s lips pursed into what you assume is anticipation. Maybe you were moving way too slow for his liking, methodically slipping your skimpy shorts off along with your panties, because Armin didn’t even wait for you to kick the garments off to the side before spinning you around, your back against the near ledge of your plush mattress.

Your brain could barely register what just happened, it took seconds before you realized that your legs are being pried apart with his head in between.

Armin muses, taking off the shorts and panty that hung off your ankle to throw it across the room. “You’re going to have to move much faster next time, yeah? I don’t like waiting.” The sternness in his voice only caused you to leak more than you already have been, bare pussy gleaming with your arousal. You could only nod and hum a compliant ‘mhm’, the cool breeze of the centralized AC wafting past your wet cunt, heightening your sensitivity.

The warm contact between your clit and the apex of his tongue evoked a curse slip past your lips. Teasing you, he proceeded in kitten licking the same spot til it was swollen and raw, already leaving your desperate cunt leaking all over the sheets beneath you. It was shocking honestly, how quickly you released, little spurts of squirt seeping down your ass while Armin teased. You squirmed, the back of your head digging against the plush mattress as you reach your brief high.

He chuckles, “So soon? I just started, love.” He rolled his thumb back and forth on your throbbing clit, while using two fingers to split your folds apart, eyeing the round orbs of slick rolling down to the sheets.

Trembling from overstimulation despite barely being touched, you weep, “Need more… I need you so bad,” Armin poked his tongue in between your folds, tapping at your wet hole without giving his thumb a break. Your hands latched onto his locks, pushing him down the heat of your cunt.

The warmth of his saliva pooling in between his mouth and your pussy dripped down his chin, the mixed noises of slurping and moans echoing in your room. Your thighs were shaking, threatening to clamp onto Armin’s head, however he didn’t let you— gripping onto the plump of your thighs and forcing them wide apart, letting the cold air hit your pussy.

Your legs were spread on the bed, allowing you to really feel how good Armin’s tongue feels inside of you. His licks were tight and precise as it grazed your throbbing hole, his nose buried just right under your clit.

He takes a breather, blowing on the heat of your cunt as he plugged two fingers deep past your hole, feeling your walls clench around the ridges of his knuckles. “You’re gonna have to hold it this time, love.” The request is nearly impossible when he’s curling his fingers in, making you whimper in resistance.

The occasional giggles he would have matched with his lewd sucking were more than enough to draw another orgasm out of you. His voice was truly mesmerizing, any word that rolls off his tongue can get you soaked.

Waiting for your response was none of Armin’s concern, he plunged his fingers with ease, eyes glimmered with nothing but awe at the sticky mess he’s creating in between your legs. The ache of his balls was starting to get unbearable, tingling with his filthiest urges. As much as he wanted to punish and ruin you for reasons he couldn’t clearly answer himself, there’s nothing more he wants than to pound you into the bed.

Armin lowers his head, lips reaching to nip at your clit, his fingers reaching the spot that emitted a sharp gasp from you, crimson lips from biting them so much turning into an ‘o’. Your pussy down to the base of your ass is coated with a sheen of your slick, Armin pushing the plump of your left inner thigh on the mattress to prevent closing your legs.

He reveres, “Been waiting for this since you left earlier… ‘never seen such a pretty pussy,” He was rambling, but he wasn’t far off from the truth.

“Hahhhh— yeah, fuck, that’s it—!” Your groan nearly reached the pit of your stomach, tears brimming your eyes before panting sporadically, just waiting for that sweet voice of affirmation to give you permission.

He cleared his throat before chuckling, “Show me how it’s done, doll.” You were a mess to say the least. Hands pressed up on your chest to push your breasts together, letting a clear stream of fluid projectile on Armin’s lips as soon as he pulled his fingers out while you struggled to breathe.

Small spurts kept spraying out of your needy little hole, Armin tapping on your clit with the tips of his fingers, a little force inflicted in his touch which provoked a frail moan out of you.

He stands upright, knees sore from digging them in the ground. Hunching over your frame, his shadow cowering over your body, he sees you in all your glory, drowsy and fucked out. He’s not even done with you and you’ve already given out.

He mutters, face leaning closer to yours, lips just barely against your ear, “Are you sure you don’t want more?” Every fiber of your being is telling you to sleep, but your mind is telling you to let him use you like you’re nothing but a mere doll.

“I do… ‘need you inside me…” your pathetic pleas is something Armin couldn’t resist, the twitch of his cock from your dulcet tone mixed in with your disgusting words almost made him impatient. Chuckling, he stands back up and you watch while he preps himself, fucking his fat cock into his fist, his thumb smearing off the leaking bead of precum.

You stare at the ceiling, mouth agape when he placed his cock in between your folds, savoring the snug feeling of your wet pussy as he slid himself up and down, tip knocking on your clit. Your reflexes kicked in and you lifted your ass up a bit, rolling your hips to match his pace. Your little whimpers, body shaking from having to hold your weight on your elbows, Armin couldn’t help but place his hands all over you, thumb pressed on your lip while the other played with your pert nipple.

His hand was locked on your jaw while you nipped on his thumb, forcing your eyes on him. It’s hard to say that he isn’t absolutely gorgeous when he’s under that innocent facade that he likes to pull.

Golden strands of hair were stuck on his forehead, collarbones and his abs sheened with sweat. He chuckles when he notices the drool seeping out of your lips and on his thumb. “Are you ready?” Still rocking his cock back and forth slowly, you nod to give him the green light. Letting your jaw go, your head falls back on the bed as he positions one of your legs against his chest while you gently wrap your fingers around his cock, pointing his tip right on your hole.

Armin grins at your eagerness, rutting his hips to let his cock nudge into your pussy, walls sucking him in, welcoming him inside you so kindly. You couldn’t help but moan, neck stretched to throw your head further into the mattress. He presses on your tummy with his palm, squeezing on the plump of your skin as he taunts you by keeping stationary, dick barely halfway through.

He hacks out a laugh, while he stares in adoration at the way you’re bouncing your hips, desperate for the need for stimulation. The sticky, wet noise of your pussy rubbing around his cock just tells him how much you’ve wanted this. Just how pathetic you’d get for some dick.

In your defense, him being halfway through was enough to get yourself off, his girth was enough to stretch you apart. Hell, just hearing his voice can make you cum with just a finger.

His hands grabbed ahold of your waist, nimble fingers squeezing on the pudge of your skin. His lips were curved into a smile, “You have to wait for me, pretty. Is that okay, hm?” His hum sprung into a high pitched tone as opposed to the rest of his sentence. Of course you listened, you were in heat and you’ve been touching yourself to that exact same tone more often than not.

Armin kneaded on your waist with the pads of his thumbs while meticulously sheathing himself inside you. He stopped when he had filled you up to the hilt, quickly glancing at your gorgeous face one more time before pulling out and slamming his hips against yours. You shiver, a little whimper drifting past your lips, followed with a huff to catch your breath again.

However, he stays cruel with his treatment, vehemently fucking into you in a pace that caught air stuck in your throat. You struggled to find the correct words to egg him on, but what you didn’t know was that your moans and your presence itself was more than enough to make his balls twinge.

Propping your elbows onto the duvet of your mattress, you tuck your chin in to look at the work being done on your cunt. His cock was splitting you in half, his base coated with your arousal mixed in with his pre. Your abdomen was tight while he pushed your lifted leg closer to your body. Flexibility isn’t exactly your forte, but you had him to thank for drilling into you in this angle.

His cock might not be as girthy as Eren’s, but he knew how to give a good fuck. After all, Eren is an exception. No one can compare with him in terms of size.

So it’s hard to admit that he makes Eren seem like an amateur in everything else.

Expected from Euphoria, but surprising for Armin.

He swung your leg to the side, lifting it off the bed and leaving one of your ass cheeks on the bed, letting the rest of your body move sideways. His swift movement left you dumbfounded, you were babbling nonsense as he plunged into your seeping cunt, thighs slathered with your arousal. Armin coos as he panted, “Fuck, yeah. Love it. ‘Love your wet pussy milking me so well.” His string of whimpers and curses dominated yours, you’ve never met another man this vocal in bed.

Your grip on his cock had left his head blank, he was practically acting on instinct by the way he’s digging into you, the sheets rustling with each thrust. Saliva bubbles on the corner of your lips, dribbling down the mattress in uneven shapes. You cry, “Please, baby. ‘Need you to cum inside…” Almost every inch of your body was aching— yet you yearned for it. One of your forearms was pressed onto the linen sheets and the more he moved, the more it burned from friction.

Armin groans, hips still stagnant in speed, “Hm? Want me to fill you full of cum? Such a dirty slut…” Your cunt was so welcoming to him, sucking him in like there’s no tomorrow. The sight of your titties bouncing in sync with his pounding had made him eager to strike it with the heat of his palm, igniting a sharp, quick gasp from you. You turn your head, shooting a glance at him, mildly surprised at what he just did. His once sapphire eyes were hooded with pure animalistic lust and your lack of retaliation only provoked him to do it again, watching as your boob jiggled against the other, soaking up on the whines you’d make in response.

He amped up the speed of his cock, balls grazing your inner thigh. In accordance, his moans were being drawn out in higher pitches, those sweet familiar tunes that you sleep to every night. “Hah— shit, I watched you get fucked by him the other day, yet I don’t remember you being like this.” He didn’t need to elaborate on who he’s talking about. You knew.

And he expects you to answer. He couldn’t care less about the recording. In fact, this could even be good material for his content.

“I- ah— he wasn’t—“ you’re mumbling, distracted by the sheer length of Armin’s cock filling you to the brim, battering onto the same squishy spot that got you yelping.

“He wasn’t what?” He wants to hear it although the answer is quite clear already.

You glare at him with half lidded eyes, stammering, “Shut— the fu-fuck up and make me cum already damn—“ Him bringing up someone else while destroying your insides was pissing you off, it was giving insecurity. Although it did cross your mind that it might be because he wants to milk you for content; figuratively and literally.

Armin hisses as his hips staggered in speed, now clapping his hips in slow, deep strokes. “Hahh, you’re so ambitious— ngh—” His sentences likewise weren’t coherent, his release basically sitting at the entrance of his tip, ready to stuff you full.

The change between his quick, powerful thrusts versus the sensual strokes had left your mouth hanging, nearly shrieking. “Please… I wanna— ah—!” Armin dropped your cramping leg back down, putting all his weight on the bed as he lodged his cock into you at a faltering pace, fists practically embedded onto the mattress.

He’s so painstakingly close, using up the last of his strength to plow into you one more time, stuffing you full of cum. The cute little twitch his cock made after emptying into you was what drew you to your high. Armin’s head flew back as you both went silent for a quick second before simultaneously groaning at the feeling of release flowing throughout your spine and the rest of your body.

Armin’s breathing stuttered as he managed to jest, “So much fucking cum…” keeping himself plugged into you as you felt viscous, milky consitency seep out of your hole and down your ass. The pit of your stomach felt warm and full as you pressed onto it with your frail hand to check if this is actually happening to you right now.

If you were really just fucked stupid by the man of your wet dreams.

He slouches down to capture your lips once more, feeling regenerated while you nibble on his bottom lip. You both open your eyes, bringing your hand up to brush his cheek with your warm palm. You manage to perk your lips into a small smile before he leans in to give you another peck. For a moment, it felt real. The kiss felt so genuine and you’ve found what people in love call connection.

But this isn’t love. This is just two people practicing their lustful desires onto each other.

You don’t even know him.

Pulling out, his limp cock twitched at the cool air, glazed with pure, translucent white. You sigh at the hollow feeling, thick ropes of cum oozing onto the soft sheets.

Armin stands up and picks up the clothes that splayed onto the ground, handing yours back to you as he starts to dress himself. He asks as he takes his phone to stop the recording, “Everything good?” His smile was innocent and it still catches you off guard.

You nod, composing yourself by getting a tissue from the nightstand to wipe the mess in between your legs “yeah… thanks.” Not caring enough to put shorts back on as no one else was home anyways, you led Armin to your front door with nothing but a fresh tee and your underwear on.

“I had a good time. Thank you, Armin.” If you were going to be working with him, being on good terms wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. Being friendly towards him is your best course of action.

“Me too. You were amazing.” was all he said. Your cell phone dinged from your hand and you held it up, unaware that Armin saw it as well.

It was a text from Eren.

’Can we talk?’

You closed your phone quickly, not being able to do anything but sigh at the complications of your, relation— well— situationships.

“Well, good night. Have fun on your date.” Armin caresses your cheekbone with his thumb before you bid him farewell, your heart pitter pattering with each second as you watch him disappear into the shadow of the hallway.

Something about Eren’s text doesn’t feel… casual.

You’re not in a relationship whatsoever, so why?

Why does it feel like you’re being disloyal?

[justalildumpling]

chapter 26: my soulmate

wc: 0.6k

If Jeno was going to be completely honest, he had no fucking clue what he was doing — partially due to acting upon his fight or flight response when you had mentioned the whole girlfriend ordeal. 

It wasn’t like he had never thought about making the two of you official (who was he kidding, he thought about it almost every day). But as a certified simp and part-time samoyed puppy, he wanted everything to be perfect, and if perfect meant standing on an empty beach digging up a pretty pathway and scattering rose petals for the past three hours, he would do it.

It had been around half an hour since he had texted you to come to this very specific beach — which he spent every minute anxiously fiddling with the bouquet of roses in one hand and fixing his wind-swept locks in the other. However, when he spotted your car pull up next to the boardwalk, he realised that he was not prepared for this moment, especially seeing the way your eyes sparkled as you met his gaze.

There was a little cute skip in your step as you hurriedly down the steps and to his position on the beach, your white cocktail dress dancing in the wind and the corners of your lips gradually rising as you got closer. 

Jeno could almost see the wedding arches and bells in the background, almost dropping the bouquet on the sandy surface as his hands instinctively reached out to hold you in some way.

“Jeno, what’s with all this?” You squealed, receiving the roses from his shaky grasp.

It was tranquil in that moment for the boy, with the girl of his dreams inhabiting the most beautiful smile and sharing the sweetest gaze with his little self, like all anxieties had washed away with his eyes crinkling into crescent moons and the words of “Will you accept to be my soulmate Y/N?” tumbling out of his lips without a second thought.

Your mouth parted for a split second, eyes hammering with a sense of shock and delight before a soft look adorned your face, “You finally accepted the soulmate request huh?” 

Jeno rolled his eyes, “Who says we can’t be both twin flames and soulmates?” 

You smiled, placing the bouquet on the sand before enclosing your arms around his neck, “Maybe we can test that theory,” you leaned closer into his ear, whispering the next few words, “I heard that if you kiss me and the world doesn’t blow up, we were made for each other.” 

Jeno could only chuckle, shaking his head, “You’re always full of surprises aren't you?” 

“Well, clearly you liked the suspense so now we’re here aren't we?” 

You scrunched your nose in glee, your giggles tickling his lips before he closed the gap. It almost felt like a scene out of a movie, with the waves crashing into the sand not too far into the distance and the rose petals once scattered neatly onto the path circling their figures from the wind and most importantly you, the way your laughs sounded so melodic in his ears, your perfect smile glistening in the golden sunlight and how he could finally call you his. 

Jeno didn’t vibe with chaos and unpredictability. But weirdly enough, the suspense and wrecking ball of events you had brought into his boring old life he found himself compelled to. And for the first time, he found himself agreeing with Chenle and his weird beliefs of the universe because a part of him began thinking that he had indeed found his soulmate, his other half, his twin flame.

masterlist || previous | next 

pairing: jeno x fem! reader

synopsis: chenle was convinced that his two introverted friends were destined for each other, so what does he do? bribe them to text each other of course ⎯ or alternatively, when jeno started to fall for an anonymous mutual friend of chenle's

genre: social media au, strangers to lovers, college au, FLUFF, crack

warnings: swearing

note: sorry for the delayed and short updateKAEBFOWWGBW ive been sick for the past week and been stuck in the worst writers block ever😭 but GUYSSSS the finale's next week can u believe it????

taglist: open! feel free to send an ask or comment to be added :))) ~ @babyjenono @btssf9nct @baekksore @411star @jenyoonoh @igotkpoops @calumsmut @hs825 @liliansun @raikea10 @loveleejn @luv4jeno @rosabella1009 @ismileeprnc-responder @jenoists @222brainrot @sexygrass @culterycollector @kikookii @minkyuncutie @mrsyixingunicorn10 @tytrackfebreze @sehunniepot @choi-beomgyulvr @jaeminnanaaa17 @multifandomania06 @aerislovjeno @spilled-coffee-cup @artstaeh @tddyhyck @jeongintwt @aerivrs

permanent taglist: ~ @xxxx-23nct @maeumiluv @produmads @shwizhies @polarisjisung @dearlyminhyung @wooyoung-a @w3bqrl @daincty @deehyuck @ficrecnctskz @rv7hsua @n0hyuck @neosdaisy @baekhyunstruly @barbkh8450t @cupid-yuno @rum-gone-why @mxnhoeuwu @dinonuguaegi @alethea-moon @klovmasworld @haechansbbg @moonchele

[logansargeantsbabymom]

A Love Worth Fighting For

Bodyguard!Lando Norris x Fem!Actress!Reader

CHAPTERS 3, 4 & 5

Genre: Forbidden Bodyguard to Lover

Warnings: Smut (Not yet), This is (MY VERSION of) a Slow Burn story!

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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Chapter 3: Lando

From the moment I was assigned to protect Y/N L/N, I knew this job would be different. She wasn't just any client. She was one of the most famous actresses in the world, a superstar known for her roles in the Avengers movies and her solo Marvel films. But beyond the glitz and glamour, she was also a target. There had been multiple kidnapping attempts, and it was my job to ensure her safety at all times.

When I first met her, I was struck by her beauty and poise. She was everything I expected and more. But as the days turned into weeks, I began to see the real Y/N – the woman behind the fame. She was kind, compassionate, and surprisingly down-to-earth. And despite the walls she had built around herself, I could see glimpses of vulnerability that made me want to protect her even more.

But no matter how strong my feelings grew, I had to remind myself of my duty. My job was to keep her safe, not to get involved. And as long as I was her bodyguard, I had to maintain a professional distance, no matter how difficult it became.

Chapter 4: Lando

Y/N had a close-knit circle of friends, and one of her best friends was Daniel Ricciardo, a driver for Red Bull Racing. When she told me she wanted to attend one of his races, I knew it would be a logistical nightmare. But I also knew how important it was to her, so I did everything in my power to make it happen.

The day of the race was hectic, to say the least. Security was tight, and the crowds were massive. But Y/N was in her element, cheering for Daniel and mingling with other celebrities. I stayed close, my eyes constantly scanning the crowd for any potential threats.

As the race ended and we made our way back to the car, I couldn't help but notice the sparkle in her eyes. She was genuinely happy, and it was a sight that warmed my heart. But as we drove back to the mansion, I couldn't shake the feeling that this happiness was fleeting. The dangers that came with her fame were never far away, and it was my job to ensure she stayed safe.

That evening, as we were leaving things took a turn for the worse. A group of men, clearly intoxicated, approached us with aggressive intentions. They recognized Y/N and started hurling insults, their behavior quickly escalating.

I stepped in front of her, my body tense and ready to defend her at any cost. "Stay behind me," I instructed, my voice firm.

The men continued to advance, their intentions clear. But I wasn't about to let them get any closer. With a few swift moves, I managed to subdue them, ensuring Y/N's safety.

As the police arrived and took the men away, I couldn't help but feel a surge of anger. This was exactly why I needed to be by her side at all times. The world was full of dangers, and I couldn't let anything happen to her.

Chapter 5: Y/N

The next few days passed in a blur of interviews, photo ops, and public appearances. Lando was always by my side, his presence a comforting constant. Despite the hectic schedule, my mind kept drifting back to the confrontation at the race track. Lando's bravery, his unwavering dedication to my safety – it all made me see him in a new light.

We were back in my mansion, preparing for a quiet evening. I had invited Blake Lively, Ryan Reynolds, and Taylor Swift over for dinner. They were my closest friends, my support system, and I needed their company now more than ever.

As we sat around the dining table, laughing and sharing stories, I noticed Lando standing discreetly in the corner, his eyes never leaving me. It was like he was always on high alert, ready to jump into action at a moment's notice.

Taylor leaned over, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, Y/N, how's it going with your dashing bodyguard?"

I blushed, glancing at Lando. "It's...fine. He's very professional."

Blake raised an eyebrow. "Professional, huh? Is that code for 'I have a crush on him'?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "No, it's not like that. He's just...different."

Ryan chimed in, a grin on his face. "Different how? Come on, spill the beans."

I sighed, feeling the weight of their curiosity. "He's always there, you know? Always looking out for me. It's...reassuring."

Blake's expression softened. "It sounds like he cares about you."

I glanced at Lando again, my heart skipping a beat. "Maybe. But he's made it clear that he's just doing his job."

Taylor placed a hand on my arm, her voice gentle. "Just be careful, Y/N. It's easy to confuse gratitude with something more."

I nodded, appreciating her concern, but deep down, I knew that my feelings for Lando were growing stronger with each passing day.

After my friends left, I found myself alone with Lando in the dimly lit living room. He was standing by the window, staring out into the night. I walked over, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Lando," I began, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to thank you for what you did at the race track. You saved me."

He turned to look at me, his eyes softening. "It's my job, Y/N. I would do it again in a heartbeat."

I took a deep breath, my heart racing. "But it's more than that, isn't it? I mean, you could have been hurt."

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."

I stepped closer, my eyes searching his. "Why?"

For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. "Because I care about you, Y/N. More than I should."

My breath caught in my throat. This was the moment I had been waiting for, the moment when he finally acknowledged what I had been feeling all along.

"Lando, I..." I began, but he held up a hand, stopping me.

"We can't," he said, his voice firm. "It would compromise my contract. And more importantly, it would put you in danger. My job is to protect you, not to be with you."

I felt a pang of disappointment, but I understood. He was right. Our relationship was complicated, and there were too many risks involved.

But as I looked into his eyes, I couldn't help but hope that one day, things might be different.

And with that thought lingering in my mind, I knew that this was just the beginning of a long, complicated journey. A journey that would test our resolve, our feelings, and ultimately, our fate.

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

Feedback and Suggestions are ALWAYS welcomed.

Taglist:

[drewharrisonwriter]

Donor | Part 1.5 | Not Dad Enough

Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Oh, no. I made a drabble... I think. LOL

Pairings: Bestie Henry Cavill x OFC

This was supposed to be just a short drabble for my fic Donor. But I guess this is too long, lol so this happened between chapters 1 and 2 and shows Henry and reader going through the first round of IUI.

I’m AO3, too as MoonDjarin ^_^

Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3

During the week of your first IUI procedure, Henry had flown back over the weekend before, having taken a break from filming his latest project for the year. The process leading up to the insemination wasn't too time-consuming; they just needed his sample, and the whole procedure could be completed within a few hours. So, you were quite surprised when he mentioned that he had taken off for the next two weeks.

"Why? Do you have plans with your family?" you asked, racking your brain to recall any upcoming birthdays or events.

He shook his head, his expression earnest. "No, not at all. I just... I want to make sure you're alright," he replied, his eyes holding a mixture of concern and determination.

You let out a small, surprised chuckle. "You really don't have to do that, you know. Besides, what could possibly go wrong after the procedure?" you teased, though a warmth spread through you at his thoughtfulness.

He chuckled softly in response. "Honestly, I'm not entirely sure. I just want to be here, at least until you have to take the first test."

His words touched your heart, and you couldn't help but smile at his earnestness. It was in these small moments that you realized just how you lucked out on having Henry as your best friend and your future child's father.  ---

As the procedure was completed, you found yourself lying on the examination table, legs up in the air as instructed, for the next 15 minutes. Henry stood by your side, holding your hand gently, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

"Feeling okay?" he asked softly, concern etching his features as he looked down at you.

You gave him a reassuring smile, your fingers tightening around his. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just a little nervous, I guess."

Henry's grip on your hand tightened slightly, and he leaned in closer. "You don't have to be nervous. You got this," he said, his voice full of encouragement.

You nodded, grateful for his presence. "I know, it's just... What if it doesn't work? What if this whole process ends up being for nothing? I feel like I have wasted your time and...sperm." You grimaced at the last part and Henry laughed.

He sighed softly, his gaze never leaving yours. "Hey, there will always be another time for a next round. We can keep trying until it works, alright? But for now, let's just focus on this moment."

Your heart swelled at his words. Despite his playful demeanor, Henry's sincerity always managed to shine through, comforting you when you needed it the most. You gave him a small smile. "You're right. Thanks for being here with me, Hank... and you know, for allowing me to drag you into this."

His answering smile was soft and reassuring. "Always, Y/N."

---

After the procedure, you both returned home.

Henry suggested watching a movie to help you relax, and you settled on "Night Hunter." Despite Henry's eye roll at your choice, he acquiesced, knowing that you were set on it and not in the mood for any debates.

The film had its share of tense moments, interspersed with lighter ones that brought occasional snickers from you. 

One particular scene caught your attention—Walter Marshall, the character played by Henry, was sitting on the kitchen floor with his on-screen daughter, attempting to have a heartfelt moment. 

You couldn't help but chuckle dryly, cringing at the dialogue and the lack of genuine paternal energy emanating from Henry's portrayal.

"Wow," you commented, your voice laced with amusement, your gaze locked on the screen.

Henry glanced at you, his brows furrowing. "What's so amusing?"

"Come on," you chuckled, nudging him playfully. "If you're trying to show off your potential co-parenting skills, this movie isn't exactly boosting your case."

"Hey!" He gave you a playful mock-glare. "You're making fun of my acting skills. How dare you?"

"Just a little," you admitted, giving him another playful nudge. 

“So mean,” he muttered, his hand moving theatrically to his chest, as if nursing a wounded heart. Sooo dramatic. You laughed. 

Your gaze remained fixed on the screen. "I mean, it's just that I'm not quite getting the 'dad vibes' from you in this scene."

Henry laughed, a genuine sound that filled the room. "Fair enough. Guess I have some work to do if I want to impress as a movie dad."

You grinned, nodding in agreement. "Definitely a bit of room for improvement."

He leaned back on the couch, arm casually draped across the backrest, his eyes still on the movie. "Well, I'll consider this valuable feedback."

"I'm glad I could contribute to your acting growth," you quipped, a playful twinkle in your eye.

"Always striving for improvement," Henry replied, a hint of laughter lingering in his voice. "But in my defense, being a movie dad is a whole different ball game."

You raised an eyebrow, your tone teasing. "Oh, I see. So, you're saying real-life co-parenting would be a breeze for you?"

Henry's lips curled into a playful smile. "Well, I'd like to think I'd have a better grasp of it, but I guess there's only one way to find out."

The two of you exchanged amused glances, the easy banter between you a testament to the comfort of your friendship. As the movie continued to play, you leaned back against the couch, feeling the warmth of Henry's presence beside you.

"I guess we'll have to wait and see," you mused softly, your voice holding a touch of anticipation.

"Indeed," he agreed, his gaze briefly meeting yours before returning to the screen. And as the movie scenes unfolded, you felt yourself growing more at ease, the laughter and companionship settling any lingering nerves from the day's events.

Eventually, the familiarity of your shared space and the comfort of Henry's company began to take its toll, and you found yourself succumbing to drowsiness. Your head rested against his shoulder, a contented sigh escaping you as you closed your eyes.

He glanced down at you, a soft smile forming as he watched your peaceful expression in sleep. His heart swelled with a mix of fondness and a growing sense of longing. He carefully adjusted his position, allowing you to rest comfortably against him, his arm holding you close. As the movie continued to play in the background, he couldn't help but contemplate the possibility of a deeper connection with you, one that extended beyond the realm of co-parenting.

Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Tag list:

@jyessaminereads @summersong69 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetandgentlecreature @kingliam2019 @leaveitbythewave @mrsevans90 @evansabove1981 @bascmve01 @shellyshellshell @iamsana @foxyjwls007 @one-sweet-gubler @henryownsme

[bellarkeselection]

2 - Interesting Conversations

Part 3

The Venus Muse

Not as long of a chapter as I'd like but here it is 😊 if you have any suggestions send them to my ask box

He extended his hand up to me and I smiled, placing my smaller hand in his larger one. “I accept so long as I know which Bridgerton are you?”

“Benedict, Benedict Bridgerton.” He replied, leading me out and onto the dance floor with the entire room having their eyes focused on the two of us.

I shifted my gaze up to his since he was taller than I was even with me wearing the slightly high shoes I was wearing. The others in the grand room began grabbing their own dance partner and the floor was filled with dancing suits and dresses moving about. “You’ll surely be the talk of the town after this night, lord bridgerton.”

“I don’t care much if I am. It is not my responsibility to carry the weight of my family's house on my shoulders.” The bachelor responded. 

His brother Anthony had found a wife last season, his sister Daphnie before that and now this year it was rumored that Colin was the next bachelorette according to the talk of the town. Holding my hand up away from his we slowly danced around in a circle where I chuckled. “So second siblings get to have more fun you say.” 

“Indeed they can. Would you not say the same for yourself?” Benedict asked, twirling me away from his chest throwing my hair all around and my dress twirled with such grace. 

I spun back into his embrace where our noses touched one another and the music began dying down meaning our time may have been limited so I quickly thought on my feet. “My lord, may I be so bold and ask to speak with you somewhere more privately?” 

“I’d love nothing more, princess.” He whispered, taking me by the hand and together we made our way through the crowd. We reached the outside of the ballroom but I figured we would be found if we stayed out there. 

So I squeezed his hand in mine taking the lead to the nearest horse stables that were just outside the nearest door. Benedict allowed himself to be dragged along by the princess in front of him. The fresh air finally hit my face when I busted through the large door. I sighed in relief. “Ah that’s much better. I must admit the castle walls can make me feel a little restricting.” 

“If I’m being honest with you. I don’t care for these seasons as much as others. Though it does give me inspiration for my drawings on occasions.” Benedict stands behind me. 

Spinning around on my feet I grinned hearing the excitement in his voice when he spoke the word of drawing. “You enjoy drawing, Mr. Bridgerton.” 

“I would like to just be Benedict to you, princess.” He nodded his head down to me. 

I chuckled moving across the stables yard until I found a bench to sit on and he joined me. “My father told my mother to just call him George the day she tried to climb over a garden wall so she didn’t have to marry him.” 

“I don’t think I've ever heard of this story. Care to share more details with me.” He scooted closer to me on the bench. 

Shifting my head up towards the sky I clicked my tongue thinking for a moment. My mother had told me how they fell in love despite the conditions my father has on his mind. “It’s a rather long story. I don’t wish to bother you with the full details of it. Surely you have other women you wish to spend your time with.” 

“Don’t let it be the fact that you are the princess and I am just a Bridgerton stop you from telling me the story you wish to tell.” Benedict pressed on touching my hand that was closest to his. 

I met his baby blue eyes asking the question I wanted him to answer. “Are we not expected to follow the rules of society that we have been born into?” 

“In my opinion I don’t wish to follow the traditional rules of society. Society leaves very little room for us to explore different passions. Whether it be through art, clothing, music or making our own beliefs.” Benedict moved his hands around as he declared about having some desire outside of just finding a wife or husband. 

Tucking hair behind my ear I felt the heavy weight of the crown on my head begin to disappear. “You make it sound so easy.” 

“Should it not be for you?” He asked me so calmly. 

I snorted shrugging my shoulders, explaining my situation to the lord sitting beside me. I wished the things that he was saying could be true, but I was far beyond ever seeing such freedom. “I may be a princess but it doesn’t mean I get to explore the world like I hoped.”

“What if I helped give you that chance.” Benedict asked me with that cheeky smile on his face. 

“How so?” I tilted my head to the side, very curious to what he was planning in his head only having met me a few minutes ago. 

He spoke up with passion. I almost believed it could work. “We could go strolling through the shops together, I could show you my art in the house we are staying near here or even just keep meeting in secret to have these conversations like this if it's what you truly desire.” 

“Benedict, that all sounds wonderful. But what if we get caught?” I was still uncertain of the bad consequences. 

A different woman's voice enters our conversation causing me and Benedict to turn our heads in the opposite direction seeing a girl with dark black hair wearing a light colored dress. “Live out of society's expectations please I beg of you.”

“Princess Y/n, I’d like you to meet my sister Eloise Bridgerton.” Benedict raised his hand out gesturing to the girl standing a few steps away from us. Her mouth hung open at the same time as mine, both in utter shock of meeting the other in this type of situation. For my mothers enjoyment I must say this season looks to be an interesting one from my current perspective. 

Comments really appreciated ❤️ Tag list - just ask to be added @abq654 @your-musicguru @imgondeletedis @eruannaaa-blog @cherrylovers-world @benedictbridgertonss @callmedarlingsstuff @carrotcaratsworld @sillynilly27 @emmampl-blog2 @bright-molina @erynel1zasworld @ynbutbetter @stranger-chan @blckbarbiedoll @sanaar3006 @urmoom12345 @ritz-hell-hotel @ritz-hell-hotel

[hey-august]

A Line from Me to You - Chapter 2

Description: Buggy finds a peculiar book on his ship. Enticed by the words contained on each page, the pirate opens up. Anonymity leads to vulnerability. What else will come from this? (Chapter 1, check out the story tag for more chapters) Word count: 1.9k Warnings: This chapter is SFW, but the story will eventually be NSFW - hopefully in the next chapter. Some profanity. Buggy x afab!reader. A/N: Little more plot-building before we get to the spice. Hope yall enjoy!! Tag list: @lostfirefly @rorywritesjunk @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You read and re-read the bonus words written into your book until they flowed through your head like a real conversation. An unknown voice whispered in your ear, adding commentary, a few snide remarks and snarky responses, poignant questions, and narrative asides that you couldn’t get enough of. 

The mystery of your anonymous reading buddy sat with you. It was calm and inviting. You weren’t consumed with a desire to dig inside and pull out the truth, but to let the mystery be. To let it exist like this. Yes, you did want to know whose thoughts and memories you were reading, but it wasn’t a dire need. And more than that, you wanted to keep this secret. A shared secret.

Staring at the next chapter you needed to read, the novelty plummeted as you raised a pen. It felt heavy in your hand, weighed by an awkward feeling. The back of your neck prickled, as if someone was already reading your thoughts. You felt stifled by the odd sense of visibility. Unable to connect your desire to give the story your full attention with wanting to share the book with another reader, you tried to flip those feelings and see if they would fit another way.

It was like a game of leapfrog. You read the annotations added after yours, then jumped into the next chapter you hadn’t read yet and filled in the gaps left in the margins, and, finally, you landed in a new chapter. The puzzle pieces connected as you fell entirely into the story.

Traveling with the cloaked figure, Grey, on his journey, your musings were scribed each step of the way. Phrases and words circled, emotive faces drawn near touching moments, and your own personal tidbits littered the pages. The chapter ended with Grey winning over the sullen rock golem who had been living alone as an outcast. The golem accepted Grey’s invitation to join him on a journey to save the royal family.

A few days later, Buggy was surprised to see the book peeking out of its protective hidey-hole like a mollusk. He noted its disappearance and didn’t expect such a rapid reappearance. Although it wasn’t a long novel, completing the entire journey would have taken a sleepless night or two. A small voice questioned whether the owner was upset at the additional vandalism (even if they started it) and decided to abandon the book entirely. 

Filled with unease, Buggy ignored the book and went about his duties. The poisonous voice stayed quiet as the captain threw himself into work, wondering if he might avoid confronting the question and the book. A lifetime of rejection created a wide boundary of protection that the little voice hid behind, hissing unfounded fears.

The sour feelings were chased away with a mouthful of liquor later that night. While heading back to his quarters, Buggy retrieved the book and walked fast to outpace his own negativity. Although it was only the second time he had the novel, reading was easily incorporated into his evening routine. It felt familiar to him. 

Growing up, Buggy was a voracious reader. Sometimes, he wondered if that’s why he needed glasses now. Maybe his eyes were rebelling against all the words he forced them to absorb - short stories, long epics, newspapers, essays, letters, tiny print, large fonts, hand-written, transcribed. Anything he could get his hands on was devoured in his spare time. Sentences were crammed into the few seconds between duties, chapters read by dim moonlight, and pages became speckled with food as he pored over the books while eating.

Over time, Buggy read less and less. People poked fun at the bookworm. They said he should be careful always having his nose in a book, it might get caught in the pages. Even lighthearted remarks about how much he read began to sting. And as he grew up, Buggy had other things to occupy his time with.

Eventually, guilt took hold in his chest. Roots grew whenever he had time that could be filled by a book, his empty hands missed the feel of pages threading through the fingers, or when he looked at the forlorn stories waiting on his bookshelf. He tried to push through the ache by buying new books that remain untouched. He even bought glasses to try and turn a chore back into a hobby, but nothing relit the spark. It all turned into dirt and manure for his remorse to grow. 

The pirate never expected the pain of turning his back on something that brought comfort would be eased by a silly fantasy novel. Despite being a grown man with hair on his chest and alcohol on his breath, Buggy felt like a kid again as he sank under the covers with a good book. Instead of waiting for a tension headache, Buggy pulled out his glasses, swiped the lenses with a small cloth, and put them on. The first thing he read was a note tucked alongside his bookmark.

“Good notes! Although I disagree that the writer is a ‘self-indulgent asshat who sees the world through rose-colored glasses.’ I read ahead through the next chapter and left space for you. Please do the same and put this back in the ‘secret’ spot. I want to see if you change your mind.”

Buggy chuckled to himself. Of course you wouldn’t agree with him, you picked the book in the first place. Maybe if he pointed out more of the author’s blatant self-insert characters used to tout their poorly thought out ideals, you’d reconsider. He took a sip of alcohol and twirled a pen in his fingers. 

Towards the end of the newest chapter, two things caught Buggy’s attention. First, the fucking corner of the page was folded again. Second, was a comment about the golem and “found family.” You wrote about how nice it is to find a place you belong and people you feel at home with. You felt like the golem character when you joined this pirate crew. The rock golem, named Daisy Lee, had sprouted a flower when Grey extended his hand and companionship. The little heart next to that sentence was a punch to the gut.

Buggy the Clown knew first-hand how it felt to find someplace you belonged. In fact, he’s heard that from his crew countless times. After fights, successful raids, parties brimming with alcohol, any situation full of emotions were bound to be followed with freaks professing appreciation for their captain. But this was different. You didn’t know who was reading these words. You didn’t intend to share them with the captain himself. These weren’t words of performative devotion, honeyed sentiments, or feelings brought forth by adrenaline, but inner-thoughts shared during your own personal time.

It was late and his body was tired, which meant his emotions were delicate. That’s why tears collected in the corners of his eyes before slipping down his heated cheeks. Exhaustion and alcohol. Fingers attempted to fit under his glasses to wipe away the saltwater, but the legs tugged on his ears and the frames dug into his forehead. Buggy dabbed away what he could in the confined space and rubbed the back of his hands on his wet cheeks to dry them. With a face redder than it was moments ago, he swallowed the rest of the sober emotion with the alcohol in his glass.

---

The next time you found the book, there was another note for you. A short sentiment and a gift.

“Stop folding the goddamn pages. I don’t care if this is your book, I won’t give it back. Use the bookmark.”

The bookmark guarding the edge of your reading area wasn’t anything special. It was just a bit of paper that could have come from anywhere, but the edges were carefully torn into a long rectangle. The scrap used to mark the other reader’s progress was ripped haphazardly and shaped like a squashed kidney. Rolling your eyes, you folded the corner of your new gift. You’d use it, but on your terms.

You followed the same pattern as last time, reading the new notes, the next chapter, then a new chapter. And your reading partner followed suit. Bookmarks jumped over each other, like checkers. Stories were swapped, emotions unlocked, betrayals occurred (the first of which was you creasing the bookmark, which was acknowledged with a little angry face), foes defeated, heroes injured, feelings exposed, and so much more. You wrote about leaving your family and village behind, like some of the adventurers. The other person wrote about not really knowing their family. Not in a story, but as a passing comment to what you scribbled. Unsure how to respond, you simply wrote that you were glad their journey brought them here.

Weeks passed as the book exchanged hands. One night found you hunched over in bed, following your reading buddy as you raced through the final chapter. The sea was as restless as your beating heart, each wave and thump growing erratic through the climax.

Worn down and weary, Grey and his companions approached the castle. Moss and vines decorated the worn stone structure. An abnormal breeze carried the sweet stench of decay. The rustle of leathery wings and tell-tale stomping emitted from the courtyard ahead. Grey turned to Daisy Lee and Jack, readying himself to go ahead on his own. To his surprise, Jack clapped a hand on the man’s cloaked shoulder and nodded to their stone friend, who marched forwards, toward the dragon.

You silently cheered with each blow the heroes dealt and gasped with every set-back they sustained. The fight raged on in your white-knuckled grip, with Daisy Lee crumbling into a smaller version of themself, and Jack throwing himself in front of Grey, only to be knocked out.

Grey shouted in anguish and charged forwards. Landing a mighty blow on the dragon, the fierce beast collapsed with a pitiful roar. Smoke poured from it’s mouth and nostrils, filling the courtyard. Through the fog, Grey could just barely see the large shadow shrink. As the smoke cleared, a naked figure lay on the ground - the victim of a curse. It was Prince Shaia. Grey’s brother.

The rest of the story was wrapped up in two pages. There was a whirlwind of activity when Grey rescued the rest of the royal family, revealed his lineage to his companions who readily accepted the information, Grey’s rapid ascension to the throne, and the multitude of changes he immediately put into place across the kingdom to end every single plight, hardship, and minor inconvenience he encountered. The story ended with the sun setting on a utopia, with no mention of issues implementing new rules and systems or discourse about the kingdom changing hands to a previously unknown individual.

You sat silently for a moment, mulling over the ending. It was an enjoyable story full of adventure and whimsy, but the conclusion was rushed. Very rushed. The last paragraph had a bracket drawn on the side and an arrow pointing to a little face sticking it's tongue out and a note:

“I haven't changed my mind. This wouldn’t happen so easily, it’s so unbelievable-”

Frowning, you scribbled a retort before finishing the rest of the note. “It’s a fantasy book. Of course it’s not believable.”

“-I have a book we can read next. I guarantee it’ll be better than this.”

A buzzing filled your head and reverberated down to your chest. You kept reading the message, studying each individual letter constructing the words that warmed your body. The beating of your heart stopped using adrenaline as fuel and channeled the rushing endorphins instead. You hoped that this secret relationship would continue, and to see that feeling reciprocated filled you with so many fluttery feelings that you couldn’t tease them apart.

“Okay, I’m trusting you.”

[nerdraging4point0]

The Scorpion and the Scales //Chapter One// Poly-AU

Header photo by @ladyveronikawrites

Tropes and Tags: MF, MFM, MFMM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed musicians, polyverse, friends to lovers.

Content warning: 18+ only MDNI, PinV, PinA, oral (f!recieveing, m!recieving), threesomes, light BDSM, voyeurism, exhibitionism, partner sharing, jealousy, angst.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Active taglist: @ladyveronikawrites @tearfallpixie @beaker1636 @circle-with-me @synthetic-wasp-570 @itsjustemily @thesazzb @vinyardmauro @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @dominuslunae @mountains-to-move @sundamariis @caitcoreeeee @crimson-calligraphyx @letmeadoreyoux @starsomens @artificialbreezy @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @lilrubles @shilohrosechicken @missduffsblog @jessicafg03 @thatchickwiththecamera @mysticdoodlez @chels3a-smile @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @roley-poley-foley @ravieisunhinged @dethronetheveil @to-be-written @somewhere-diamond @somebodyels3 @sacredthefran

My ears are still ringing from the concert, a lingering reminder of the band's raucous performance that seemed to rattle the very walls. But as I stand outside the venue waiting, the cool Colorado night wraps around me, calming my ringing ears. I take a deep breath, letting the crisp mountain air soothe my senses. Looking up at the starry sky, I can't help but smile, the adrenaline from the show still coursing through my veins. My body may be tired, but my spirit feels alive. This is exactly where I want to be.

I scroll through the photos and videos on my phone, reliving each moment - the crush of the crowd, the first electrifying guitar riff, the encore chant that shook the rafters. I smile as I post clips to Snapchat, the glowing screen casting a soft light on my face. These are memories frozen in time now.

I glance down at my outfit, suddenly self-conscious - dark shorts with fishnets, my favorite Adidas shoes, a cropped long sleeve tee to show off my wrist tattoo. My dark curls bouncing around my shoulders, framing the natural makeup look I had spent so long perfecting. My heart pounds at the thought of meeting the band looking like this.

I can hardly contain my excitement. Getting a photo with the band tonight will be the perfect addition to my prized collection of memories! My scrapbook is absolutely full of photos with bands and celebrities - it's my most prized possession. But the photos themselves are nothing compared to the actual experiences behind them. I smile to myself remembering all the crazy adventures over the years - the VIP access, celebrity run-ins, wild nights out in Vegas and LA. I live for these thrilling moments and have to document every single one. This show tonight will give me yet another trophy photo for my scrapbook of fame.

I can feel the crowd stirring, a buzz of anticipation in the air. Around me, fans jostle for position near the stage door while security guards confer, ready to guide the band through. I'm so tempted to rush the door with some of the other die-hard fans, but I know that's crazy - I'd probably just get trampled. So, I stay put, heart racing, barely able to contain my excitement. 

The crowd roars as Folio and Jolly emerge from backstage, basking in the post-show glow. Folio's got on his favorite tour tee, that vintage New York cap perched just so atop his mop of curls. And Jolly - man, that dude looks like a rockstar with his hoodie and beanie combo, those long brown locks flowing free. They pause to snap a few pics with fans, gracious as ever, before huddling up to recap the epic show.

When I see Noah, my heart stops. His towering, muscular frame moves with a feline grace and his soft brown locks fall perfectly over his chiseled features. This triple-threat talent radiated magnetism, his lethal attractiveness gripping me in its thrall. I was helpless, I was his, utterly and completely.

I see Jolly and Folio sitting off to the side of the fans. They aren't too far away, but I feel the nerves build in my chest, and I gather my courage to call them over.

"Jolly!" I shout, my voice cracking with excitement. He turns, and I start flapping my arms like a madwoman, desperate to catch his eye. This is it. My chance to meet one of my idols in the flesh. I scurry over, my legs jittery and unsteady beneath me. "Can I get a picture with you guys?" I blurt out in a rush, the words tumbling over themselves. I'm practically vibrating now, bouncing on the balls of my feet. Just breathe, I tell myself. Play it cool. But my fangirl glee cannot be contained.

He saunters over, hands in his pockets, with Folio trotting behind him. I fumble a bit with my phone, trying to find a good angle for a selfie.

"Mind if I help?" he asks, reaching out his hand. I hand him the thin device with a shaky hand. Extending his arm, phone in hand, facing the three of us so we were all framed up perfectly. I flash my best smile, leaning on the fence post for support. He snaps a few shots to make sure they came out clear, then hands my phone back.

"Thank you so much!" I squeal excitedly.

"Not a problem at all," he replies with a gentle smile, his accent coming through each word.

Folio turns to me, but he doesn't sound too thrilled - more like he's feigning the enthusiasm. "So, did you have fun?"

"Fun? Are you kidding me? That was amazing!" I gush. "Has anyone actually ever said no?" I quip playfully.

Folio chuckles and Jolly just laughs, making me feel good - at least they get my sense of humor! "I suppose it depends on who you ask," Folio says, chuckling again.

Nick shows up out of nowhere, trying to join our conversation. But his voice is drowned out by the shrieks from Noah's fans at the door. I sneak a peek and see Noah's tall figure in the center of the chaos - signing autographs, snapping selfies. I whip back around to Nick.

"What did you say?" he asks again.

I have to yell over the noise. "We were wondering if anyone's ever told you they didn't like your show!"

He lets out the most dramatic sigh. "No one's ever asked if I enjoy doing the show." I roll my eyes hard.

I roll my eyes as he pouts dramatically. "You're literally the star of the show," I point out, barely holding back my sarcasm.

He shrugs, unaffected. "Still, no one's cared to ask little ol' me about my feelings." He places a hand on his chest, channeling a wounded Victorian damsel.

I have to resist the urge to mimic gagging. "Alright, Your Highness," I say, my voice dripping with fake enthusiasm. "Do you enjoy being on the show or not?"

He taps his chin, pondering with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Hmm...maybe I don't. Have you considered that?"

"Wow, so brooding and mysterious," I deadpan.

I whip out my phone with a grin, waving it teasingly in front of Nick. "Mind snapping a quick pic for me?" I ask. He's happy to play along. I shuffle as close to him as I can with that barricade wedged between us, and he snaps off a couple shots before handing my phone back.

"Looks like you just need one with Noah now," Nick says, glancing over his shoulder. Noah's still surrounded by screaming fans begging for his attention. I give Nick an appreciative look - he's so chill and down-to-earth.

I sigh, my voice trailing off. "He seems a bit busy." I glance around at the mob of people crowded around Noah. I'm not sure I'll get that photo with him after all.

"Just hang out, we'll make sure he stops by," Jolly says, flashing me a reassuring smile. That makes me feel a little better.

"You local?" Nick asks me, clearly trying to keep the conversation flowing to avoid an awkward silence. I nod, "Yeah, born and raised here."

I cross my arms over my chest, trying to hold onto the warmth from the crowd. The breeze starts cutting through my shirt.

Nick, Jolly, Folio and I are still chatting away while everyone else heads home. Folio's glued to his phone, only half listening. Then security starts shooing people away, saying Noah only has time for a couple more photos. The last of the fans rush to the front for their chance.

When Noah finally makes his escape to the tour bus, Nick isn't having it. He waves Noah over, pleading, "One more, bro. I promise." Noah chuckles and ambles over, his long legs crossing the parking lot in just a few strides. Up close, he's even taller than I thought!

"Hello." His smile makes my heart flutter.

"Hi," I squeak out, unable to summon any other words. Just getting that single syllable out feels like a triumph.

"This is..." Nick hesitates, looking adorably flustered. "You know, with everything we've talked about, I never even asked your name."

"Eve," I manage, though my voice comes out high-pitched and timid. I cringe internally. I should know my own name, at least! But something about him makes me tongue-tied in a way I've never experienced before. Eve. It's not a complicated name. But looking into his eyes, I can barely remember such a simple word.

"Nick mentions something about a picture?" his voice is so low, I almost forget it's me he's talking to. We move against the barricade standing close to one another as Nick takes my phone from my hand to take the picture for us.

When the camera flashes, I blink hard, almost hoping the picture will turn out blurry. Just so we can try again.

"What cha think?" Nick asks, turning my phone screen to show me the photo. I mean, it's cute and all, but mostly I'm hyperaware of how close Noah still is to me.

"Hmm, could be better," Noah's voice is suddenly right by my ear, making chills run down my spine as he hovers behind me.

"Here," he says, stepping back and reaching for my hand. "Step over."

The moment our hands touch, my heart flutters as if a flock of butterflies has just been released inside my chest. I can't take my eyes off him, his warm smile making my knees weak. As I climb over the barricade, my movements awkward and clumsy in my nervous excitement, security rushes over. Noah holds both my hands in his, turning to look over his shoulder at the security guards rushing our way.

"It's cool, I got this," he says, his voice gentle and soothing.

My attention snaps back to him, those kind eyes telling me everything will be okay. I trust him completely. Once on the other side, I straighten my shirt, run my fingers through my hair, hoping I look presentable for this boy who has stolen my heart. Being near him is intoxicating, sparking a giddiness I've never known before. I want this moment to last forever.

His eyes lock onto mine, sending a jolt of excitement through my body. "Nick," he says, gaze never leaving mine. He reaches out his hand to his friend, "Phone."

Nick places it in his open palm, as Noah passes him the energy drink he'd been holding.

As Noah reaches out to me, my heart flutters. His arm finds its way around my waist, pulling me close. I feel the heat rise in my cheeks and chills tingle down my spine at his touch. But I face the camera with him, tossing my dark curls over my shoulder and flashing a peace sign. Noah's smile lights up his whole face. I can't help but mirror it with my own grin. We take a few silly selfies together, giggling and making faces. With his arm wrapped around me, I never want this moment to end. Being this close to Noah makes my pulse race and my stomach fill with butterflies. I am absolutely smitten.

I am so excited that Noah has taken such a nice photo for me. "That should do it!" He jokes as he hands my phone back. "Much better than the others."

Suddenly Nick suggests, "Group photo!" Before I can even reach for my phone, Noah snatches it back and turns to the security guards by the door.

Jolly, Folio, Nick and I all gather together. Nick wraps his arm around my waist and I put mine around his shoulders. Then Noah comes over to fill the space on my other side, putting his arm around me too. I reach around and put my hand on his lower back, laughing.

The security guard takes our photo. I smile big - this will be the main one for my book! A memory I'll never forget. Two quick flashes and we're done.

When Noah helps me over the barricade, I feel a spark as our hands touch. His strong grip lifts me effortlessly over the metal rail, setting me gently on the ground. I turn back, not wanting our moment to end, and see him give me a little wave goodbye before he disappears into the tour bus. My heart flutters as I watch him go.

When I finally get to my car, I slide into the driver's seat with a sigh of relief. As the heater starts blasting warmth into the cold cabin, I pick up my phone and scroll through my photos until I find that selfie of Noah and me. I know I don't look my absolute best in that pic, but none of that matters - it's a photo of the two of us together and that's what's important. I set it as my new screensaver and just gaze at it for a moment, my heart fluttering. Then I open my playlist, queue up some music, and pull out of the parking lot to head home. All I can think about on the drive is how dreamy Noah looks in that photo, and how lucky I was to have met someone so wonderful. I can't wait to get home, crawl under the covers and relive every magical moment we shared today before drifting off to sleep with a smile on my face.

[redtsundere-writes]

Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen

Chapter 18 and 19 are available now!

King!Sukuna Ryomen x Servant!Reader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. You are an ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

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AO3 or Wattpad?

Chapter 17 Preview ↆ

The trail of musical notes led him to the game room, but as he cautiously opened the door to avoid you noticing his presence, Sukuna found himself in an empty space. Neither you nor the piano were there. He followed the trail, like a hunter after prey, until he reached the great hall. The door was ajar, and he entered, desperately seeking your proximity.

Little by little, you entered his field of vision. His mouth parted as he saw the scene unfolding in front of him. Mahito and you were spinning in circles around the hall. He held you by the waist, and you by the shoulder. Your hands intertwined, synchronizing your steps to the rhythm of an invisible melody. Sukuna clenched his fist, feeling the fury bubbling inside him. You were too close, and it was unbearable for him.

Your dress, light as a butterfly's wings, fluttered with each turn. The notes of the song guided your movements, marking every third beat with an elegance only they could perceive. It was a secret pattern, a language shared between two souls dancing in the dim light. Sukuna was beginning to understand why you had wished to attend the Zen’in ball. Your smile, radiant and genuine, evidenced your happiness at moving so fluidly.

You had taught Mahito how to do a natural turn, the most basic step in any choreography. The natural turn is a popular feature in the slow waltz that involves a full turn to the right, followed by a pivot turn and a step to the side. You practiced it over and over while counting in your mind to ensure that Mahito’s body would never forget it.

“Now push me away from your body,” you instructed Mahito.

You were supposed to hold hands and take a step back. Instead, he obeyed you to the tea, abruptly pushing you by the shoulders. You stepped back at an unexpected turn, blinking a couple of times at the abrupt offense.

“I think I should have been more specific,” you thought out loud.

You were about to approach Mahito again, the music still vibrating in your bones, when you noticed an imposing presence at the entrance to the great hall. You caught a glimpse of King Sukuna out of the corner of your eye, and the world seemed to stop. Two forces collided in that instant: yours, full of life and melody, and his, dark and voracious. Both were surprised to find themselves face to face. Sukuna, with his gaze sharp as blades, scrutinized you as if he could read your deepest secrets. You, with your heart still beating to the rhythm of the song, felt trapped in his aura of danger and desire to see him again.

“My king, wait!” you exclaimed, running after him. Kenjaku stopped the song to follow you with his gaze.

The corridor stretched out before you, silent and austere. The light from the chandeliers flickered, creating dancing shadows on the marble walls. But he was no longer there. You could have attributed his presence to imagination, to the echoes of the music still vibrating in your mind. Yet something in you refused to accept that easy explanation. Your heels clicked urgently as you moved forward. The air grew thicker, as if the castle itself held you back. But you did not stop. You were sure you had seen him, that his sharp eyes had scanned you from the gloom. Why had he appeared at that moment? What secrets did he hide in the shadows?

“My king!” you shouted from the other side of the hall.

King Sukuna found himself trapped in the doorway, the doorknob cold beneath his fingers. His eyes met yours. There was no escape; you had caught him just as he was about to disappear into his shadowy haven. You approached with a quick step, determination shining in your gaze. He could imagine what you would say to him. After all, he had ignored you for a whole week, as if the melody and the twirls in the great hall meant nothing.

“Do you know how to dance?” You asked him. Sukuna arched his eyebrow at the question.

“No,” he answered honestly.

“How will you enjoy the ball if you don’t know how to dance?” You joked with a smile before offering him your hand, asking him to grant you a dance.

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - LVI

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Fic is rated explicit; MDNI. This chapter is not suitable to those under the age of 18. Chapter on AO3 here.

As soon as the doors to your rooms shut and Zandik removed his gloves behind you, you reached up to undo your mask only to feel his fingers already working at every fastening.  He lifted the headpiece and discarded it on a nearby surface without a second thought. 

Several steps ahead of you, as always. 

A smile crept onto your lips as his touch returned when he began to remove each hairpin one by one, as methodical at removing them as you had been placing them.  They fell to the floor in quiet pings, like rain tapping on glass during a storm.  Your scalp ached from where you had wound too tightly and you melted as Zandik’s fingers carded through your hair, eyes fluttering shut as a low moan escaped your lips.

You felt his hot breath against your neck as he chuckled.  “I’m barely touching you, rooh 'albi.  We have the whole night ahead of us.”

“Good,” you replied, leaning further into his touch.  “I’d like to put that abundance of patience you have to the test.”

Fingers left your scalp to trail down your neck and your exposed spine.  You stiffened visibly before you shivered, heart skipping as though a spark ignited against your skin, permitted to burn.  There was no shame in your desire, you reminded yourself.  Your body’s initial response was a familiar one, a hated one, and it always broke you out of the moment as soon as you had to recall you were safe.

Zandik’s large hand flattened against your back.  Warmth flooded through you at the grounded touch and you turned to face him.  You reached up and unclipped his mask with practiced ease and discarded it, revealing a gaze that was only ever earnest towards you. 

“We’ll see about that,” Zandik murmured.  “For you, I have eternity.  Contrary to what we discussed downstairs.”

The words were paired with, not a smirk, but a faint smile that seemed to make his eyes light up.  He always looked so enthralled when he was in the throes of a breakthrough that you once thought nothing would ever compare.  When had that changed, you wondered.  When had his expression softened to extend that excitement towards you, show itself because of you?

You returned your hands to his face and brushed your thumbs against his cheeks, your thumb grazing icy blue eyelashes.

Was it the bond?  The time together?  The entire culmination of the last months’ events?

Did it even matter?

Words failed as you scanned his face.  You angled your head and brought your lips to his, the kiss instinctual.  Pressure released from your chest, not from a held breath but from the remnants of distant memories your body held falling away. 

You deepened the kiss slowly, knowing the movements by heart but wanting to savor every second.  The last hints of wine danced across your tongue as you tasted him, tart and full-bodied. 

Zandik’s arms wrapped around you, familiar warmth returning to your back as another hand buried itself in your hair.  Expert fingers found the same spots as before and rubbed small circles in your scalp.  Somehow, you managed to turn, your back now to the door as you stepped carefully over the hairpins and made your way further into your quarters.

Your hands slid down to Zandik’s neck, fingers teasing the neckline of his shirt, before they traveled further along his chest and the lines of his suit.  His muscles were hard as you snaked your hands underneath his jacket’s shoulders and pushed the coat away slightly.

The kiss was broken only long enough for him to let go of you and tug on the sleeves to toss the jacket to the floor with a thump. 

As soon as you were joined again, your hands wandered and searched for purchase, never settling in one place.  It was as if your fingers wanted to memorize him, as though if you touched him, you might burn him into your veins alongside the growing fire in your blood. 

When was the last time you’d felt this desire and wanted it?

Zandik smirked into the kiss as his hands covered yours and brought them back to his chest.  Beneath one hand, you felt the steady thrum of his heart (biological or biomechanical, you wondered), breaths as shallow as yours.  His touch trailed up your bare arms, fingers grazing your skin and dancing along the delicate fabric and strap of your dress; your breath hitched when he followed your shoulder and brushed along your spine again.

Your core pulsed and you couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped your lips.

“You’re not the only eager one,” Zandik whispered.  “I want to find every sensitive spot and hear every sound you make, see every reaction.  But I want to savor it, rooh 'albi.  Don’t you?”

Of course you did, you wanted to reply.  If you could find a way to freeze time, for this bubble to exist separately in its own little universe, you would do it in a heartbeat.

He ran his fingers over the exposed small of your back one more time and you jolted, pressing yourself against him further as you hummed in needy agreement.  Just like before, he flattened his hand and rested it against your back, this time keeping you in place.  Through your dress, you could feel his arousal, his pants straining.

You pushed ever so slightly against Zandik’s chest, leaning forward as if to take a step.  Savoring one another could be done a little further away from the door, in your opinion.  One step, and then another, you fell into a rhythm as Zandik followed your directions until he collided with the arm of the couch near the fireplace.  You parted, breaths mingling in hot gasps as your eyes traced his swollen lips, flushed face, hooded eyes.  Your handiwork. 

Gorgeous.

All yours.

Forever yours.

You reached for his necktie, slipping your finger through the knotted fabric before pulling it away and casting it to the floor.  Zandik angled his neck and you unfastened the top button of his shirt, and then three below it, exposing his warm skin to you before the waistcoat stopped you.  His hands gripped the arm of the couch, knuckles white, as if restraining himself from touching you.

This sight was nothing new, for you watched him get ready countless times by now, but you were aware of every motion, every inch of him.

Slowly, you traced kisses from the corner of his mouth to his jaw and then down to his neck.  You found his pulse with ease and your heart skipped at the stifled groan that rumbled through his chest.  The pads of your fingers explored his exposed collarbone and the definitions of his muscles as they flexed beneath you.  Your lips followed, and you pressed a kiss just below his Adam’s apple before delving lower, listening for every sigh and change in his breathing.

A soft laugh ghosted over his skin when you remembered how he compared exploration of one’s body to sight-reading.  How right he was.

Venturing lower, your hands traced the dip in his waist, a natural curvature that your eye always felt drawn to.  You teased the hemline of his pants and skimmed over his belt to brush against Zandik’s clothed erection.  He hissed and bucked against your hand as you palmed his length and squeezed slightly. 

You’d felt him before, an inevitably of sharing a bed, let alone the overwhelming desire that swept over you some mornings.  As much as your body ached to be joined with him, it ached more to know him, explore him properly.

When you looked at him again, his pupils were blown wide, face flushed.  Hunger, tempered only by a softness you could never properly name, carved itself along his lips and eyes. 

You didn’t look away as you unfastened his belt and pants, pushed the fabric away from his hips to expose him to you properly.  His brow twitched and he swallowed when you took him in your hand, heavy and thick and already dripping with precum.  Your thumb teased his tip, spreading the wet bead along his sensitive skin, and you caught the audible hitch in Zandik’s breathing, his eyes wide.

His eagerness fueled your own and a deep ache settled between your thighs as you sank to your knees.  Zandik’s mouth opened and you shook your head.

“I want to,” you said, looking up at him as you kissed his tip.

He gave a sharp inhale, whatever words he was going to say dying on his lips.  You angled his cock, kissing and licking along his length before easing him into your mouth.  Precum mixed with your saliva as you moved your head in slow strokes before you took him deeper.  Zandik bucked his hips as he released a throttled gasp and his hands shot your head, fingers tightening in your hair. 

Looking up at him beneath your lashes, you held his gaze as you ran your tongue over his length and then teased the underside of his tip.  He threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut, cock twitching in your mouth.

Had anyone ever seen him like this, you wondered?  Composure all but lost?

Your thighs were wet, your own slick arousal having soaked through the lace panties some time ago.  This act never turned you on before, the gestures merely mechanical, all knowledge and no passion.  But the deeper you took him, it seemed as if your walls were intent on matching the pace of your mouth, pulsing in time and driving you closer to the brink.

You reached around to get a better hold, hand finding purchase on relaxed muscles.  Another part of him you admired but rarely touched.  Viewing him from behind when he was without a coat felt one was holding a secret, something clearly his tailor must have known too for every set of pants fit him perfectly. 

One hand left your hair to cover yours, urging you to touch, to squeeze.  You gave a low hum of understanding, the vibrations eliciting a delightful groan from the man above you.

Emboldened, your other hand cradled and massaged soft flesh at the base of his length.  You pulled away slightly to focus on his tip again, tasting a salty tease of more precum. 

Zandik tugged on your hair and pulled you away, his cock leaving your lips with a slight pop.

“Continue like that and you’ll finish me far too soon,” he said.

A flare of smug pride dashed through you and you pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh and then his tip before you rose to your feet.  You squeezed your legs together to ease your own desire, the taste of his cock lingering on your tongue.

Zandik’s fingers skimmed across your arms and slid beneath the straps of your gown, pushing them away to let the bodice of the dress fall down to your waist.  Your skin broke out in goosebumps and your nipples stiffened from the slight change in temperature.  He found the tiny zipper that kept the dress over your hips and the dress pooled to your feet, leaving you in teasing lace and your shoes.

Those, too, joined the pile of discarded garments, and your stocking-covered feet were thankful they were finally flat on the floor again.

You pressed your bare breasts against Zandik’s chest, a flash of heat and a plea for more as his throbbing erection pressed against you, before you reached up and kissed him again.  You were intoxicated and dizzy from your own need, as if your very person might never know peace if you were to leave this unresolved.  It threatened to overwhelm and consume you entirely when familiar hands traveled lower still and slipped between your legs.  Your head fell back as you writhed when he touched a particularly sensitive spot at the curve of your behind.

Tugging at his shirt, you pulled him away from the couch and towards the bedroom, leaving a trail of his clothes as you went.

Zandik perched on the edge of the bed, with you standing between his legs, and wrapped his arms around you.  He peppered kisses to your sternum and the soft flesh of your breast, one and then the other, attentive to every curve.  A precise thumb rolled an already-stiffened nipple before hot lips replaced his touch, tongue lapping at your skin.  You arched your back and carded your fingers through his hair, pushing back the long strands from his face, supported by a hand splayed at your back. 

Words were whispered against your skin in a language you neither spoke nor recognized.  You only picked up how Zandik said them, the kinds of things befitting reverence and honor and awe.

“What are you speaking, mon rêve?” you whispered.

“It doesn’t have a name, not anymore,” he panted.  “The words don’t translate but feel...correct.”

Zandik pressed his lips against your belly and, reluctant to let go, pulled you atop him when he shifted onto the bed.  An idea sparked as your bare chest brushed against his; pressing your hands to his chest to keep him flat, you shifted until your knees rested on either side of his head, thighs resting on his shoulders. 

His face was more flush now, hazy with desire, but Zandik gripped your thighs and pulled you further down, settling your weight on his chest.  He kissed the bare flesh of your inner thigh, shiny with your essence.  Hooking a finger to pull aside the lace, he revealed you swollen, soaked core with a low groan that rumbled beneath you.  He whispered again before teasing your entrance with his tongue and you whimpered, never breaking his gaze.

He continued, tongue playing with your inner lips as his nose brushed against your clit.  His red eyes gazed up at you, only closing in intense concentration in time with your reactions.  You clenched and spasmed, occasionally bucking against his face as your body longed for more.  Zandik’s tongue delved deeper, entering you and tasting your warm velvet walls, and you gasped, heart pounding.  You reached down and gripped his hair with both hands in attempt to keep him close or to beg him to stop.  No, not the latter, never the latter. 

Heat pooled in your lower belly, churning with every flick of his tongue and every gentle suck to your clit, ready to snap.  Not now, not yet.  You wanted this night to last, to reach that peak with him, not…

You pulled your hips back, panting, your blood on fire and your body screaming for more.

“Not yet,” you managed.  “I want…”

The words caught in your throat, your own desire choking you.  How did you articulate that without sounding ridiculous, without feeling selfish?  The guilt came out of nowhere, long buried, the source of many dissatisfied evenings and attempts to make others happy.

But that was not what this was about, you reminded yourself.  And the man between your legs would never stand for you pushing away your own desires for the sake of others.  Not now, at any rate, not when you only recalled his other selves in a vague sense of awareness, rather than a solid memory.

His lips and lower face wore evidence of your presence, his skin glistening.  He opened his mouth as if to speak but with trembling hands, you brushed his hair back softly, stopping him. 

The words spilled out like water from an overfilled cup.  “I want to feel you first.  Inside me.  I want to be joined with you when I come.”

Beneath you, Zandik he kissed your thigh again, grazing the skin with his teeth before he swirled his tongue against your clit.  You jolted and your soulmate chuckled, delighted with himself.

“As you wish, rooh 'albi.”

You shifted, moving your legs to free Zandik’s upper body and crawling backwards.  His hands made quick work of the lace at your hips, pushing the material away, which you kicked off without a second thought.  When he sat up and angled himself as though to turn the both of you over, you pressed your hands to his chest.  You expected a question that never came, given his ever-observant nature.  Wordlessly, you lowered your hips to grind your soaked heat along his length and sank atop him, chest to chest, skin to skin. 

A throbbing pulse ran through your core and you paused, savoring the sensation of his hips between your legs, his solid form beneath you.  You rolled your hips, eager for any kind of friction, slick heat passing between you.  Your entrance caught his tip and your mouth opened in a silent cry; Zandik let out a delicious hiss as his hands shot to your hips, stilling you.

Every fiber in your body tightened and you wondered if his grip would leave bruises, the way his fingers dug into you.

You swallowed, a passing thought that your body was more than prepared flickering through your mind, and eased yourself further onto his cock as you captured Zandik’s lips with your own.  Inch by inch, you rocked your hips, Zandik’s hold guiding you, taking him a little more each time, the pace excruciating and exquisite all at once.  A rumble escaped Zandik when you finally buried him deep inside you to the hilt and you swallowed it, kept his passion for yourself.  You broke the kiss to catch your breath in the crook of Zandik’s neck, willing your body to adjust.  Unaccustomed to the sensation of being joined after so long, your walls clenched, squeezing him as strong arms wrapped around you and he cradled the back of your head. 

The initial shock wore off and you rocked your hips in slow, steady movements.  At first, you tried to take his length with every stroke, as if you couldn’t bear the idea of his absence; that was, until Zandik whispered your name and guided your hips, focusing not on depth but sensations from shallower strokes. 

Once you had your bearings and your rhythm, you pulled away from his neck, panting and trembling over him.  You melted into another kiss, uncertain where you ended and Zandik began.

The familiar heat returned to your lower belly, coiled tight, stoked carefully so fire ran through your veins and burned all it touched.  Beneath you, Zandik gasped as you took him deeper again, the sound mingling with that of your joined bodies as his cock twitched.  You needed more, to feel him in a way that seared all that came before, a forest destroyed so new life could grow.

Every orgasm previously, your only other experiences, were forced, coaxed from you like an amateur learning their instrument, demanded as proof the moment was forgivable. Now, you felt as if you were floating among stars, hazy and lost among the bliss.

“Look at me, rooh 'albi.”

Zandik whispered your name again and you held his gaze, attentive and earnest as you lost your rhythm, too close to the edge.  He took over, thrusting into you as you shattered, walls fluttering and squeezing.  Staccato gasps ripped from your lungs and your eyes burned with tears but you couldn’t look away, not when—

You watched Zandik’s eyes go wide as he rocked you through your aftershocks before he gave a choked groan and buried his face in your neck, whispering incoherently.  He grabbed your hips, keeping you in place as he spilled inside you, your core convulsing around his twitching cock. 

Dazed, your tongue was heavy in your mouth, all but useless.  Zandik pulled away just enough so you could kiss him but made no effort to move otherwise, your bodies still tangled.  He broke the kiss first, eyes skimming your face the way moonlight touched water.  His curiosity was tempered not by selfish lust but with the desire to understand far beyond the surface.

You brushed his hair back softly, heart skipping, your very skin wanting to memorize every sensation.  His groan matched a note you knew by heart and already, you were trying to piece together more, as if you could translate the moment and capture it forever.

“Sleep feels very far away, mon rêve,” you panted, brushing your nose to his. 

“I did say we had all night, didn’t I?” Zandik teased.

“Eternity, actually.”

He hummed in reply, lips pulling into a soft smile that made his eyes burn like hot coals.  You melted against him again as his lips captured yours and he turned both of you over, never once breaking away from you. 

“Eternity it is, then.”

[thatgirlwithasquid]

Dear Moor Monster of Mine

3,424 words || read on ao3

I've been meaning to write a wolfblood harringrove au for so very long, so I'm glad that the @harringrove-relay-race gave me the push I needed to finally put my ideas down!

This is the first chapter. The full fic will be up on my AO3, but I didn't want to post too much here haha :)

---

Since the series of incidents last year, Steve’s parents have been keeping an unbearably close eye on him. If you had asked Steve perhaps three years ago, he would have been overjoyed with having his parents around all the time. But, right now, making his walk of shame from the car park where his mam dropped him off to the school’s doors, he can’t bring himself to feel anything other than frustrated.

Instead of travelling away on one of their monthly ‘work conferences’, Steve’s parents have taken to staying home month-round. That now includes the full moons. 

When Steve was little he used to hate that his mam and dad left him home alone for such an important day. Sure, they made sure to get nice babysitters or arrange sleepovers for him with Tommy and Carol, but all he had wanted was to share that experience with them. It didn’t matter that he knew he couldn’t do the transformation yet and so couldn’t fully understand it all, they were still his pack and it felt like they just didn’t want to share something that fundamental to wolfblood life with him.

It was isolating and upsetting, no matter how many kisses or how much quality time his parents would try to repay him with upon their return. He just wanted to spend those days with them. But now? Now he would much rather be left alone to watch movies, hang out with his friends, and not have his trainers chewed-through by his mam’s overeager wolf self.

“Nice wellies, Stevie!” Tommy calls out from across the yard as Steve passes by.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up,” he huffs, striding on past to where Nancy and Jonathan are already waiting. 

Nancy doesn’t so much as spare him a glance as he comes to a squeaking standstill in front of them. She only manages a distracted ‘Hi, Steve’ as she continues flipping through her bag, clearly looking for something.

“Morning,” he answers anyway before turning to Jonathan.

He’s not looking at Steve either, too distracted by sending his choice of footwear a confused look.

“Planning on trekking through the woods later?” he asks by way of greeting.

“Monsters ate my shoes, had to make do with these instead.”

That makes Nancy’s head finally shoot up. For a moment, she gapes at him, flustered and speechless, before she composes herself with a sigh and a shake of her head. 

It’s then that she straightens up, shrugging her bag higher on her shoulder and brushing her hair back behind her ear. It opens her back into the group from where she had otherwise been sequestered off in her own mind. Steve grins at her.

“Don’t joke about stuff like that when Barb’s around,” she reminds him, expression friendly even in spite of her reproach.

“Don’t joke about what when I’m around?”

Well speak of the devil.

They all turn to Barb as she settles herself into their circle. Jonathan and Nancy look pained but Steve just throws an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a squeezing sideways hug.

“Nothing,” he dismisses. “Just the photography club.”

Barb rolls her eyes, leaning back in Steve’s hold to send him a look that says she doesn’t quite believe him. She doesn’t shrug out of his hold, though, and that might be enough to lighten his petulant mood. The pair of them have come a long way since the whole drama around him and Nancy dating, which is something he’s very glad for.

Losing Tommy and Carol as friends stung, no matter how much he knew it was probably for the best; they weren’t very nice people and being around that sort of character wasn’t doing him any favours, but they had been his friends for years. But cutting himself loose from them, and by apologising properly to Jonathan for being nasty about his brother going missing and to Barb for being such a douche, did bring him into a much nicer friend group.

“You’re not still on about that, are you?” Barb asks him.

“Always,” he replies with a grin, raising his brows. 

Okay, maybe he’s not fully lost all his douchey-ness, but at least now he can argue it’s just part of his charm. Barb just shakes her head and accepts it with a fond roll of her eyes. 

“You already have your own camera,” Steve continues, turning now to address Jonathan, “so it’s not like you need it to be a school club.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice for it to be.”

“Fine, but I still think I deserve more credit for joining.”

“You only put your name down on some paper,” Nancy points out, smiling indulgently at him.

“And wasn’t that to make up for you smashing my camera?” Jonathan pipes up.

Steve cups a hand over his heart with a wounded expression.

“Wow, I see how it is. And, for the record—” he drops his hold on Barb to lean in and jab a finger into Jonathan’s chest “—I replaced that camera, as you should all know. You use it all the time for your stupid club. And what’s the point of the school supplying you with stuff if you bring your own in anyway?”

No one humours that with a response. That’s fine, they’ve gone over this bickering a hundred times before. Steve only really brings it up to wind them up now—all in good humour! At the end of the day, he’s fine with being an on-paper member of their club if it helps them out or whatever, especially since he knows that the Photography Club is Jonathan’s favourite thing about school.

He owes them all as much as well, for continuing to let him hang around. They let him off the hook for last year with less grovelling than was probably deserved.

“Ah,” Barb jumps in. “Speaking of photography… you’ve got to see what I found this morning on the moors.”

She unearths her phone from her bag and Steve winces. Sure, it’s only been about a year that he’s known Barb, but he really has come to like her. 

The whole of Hawkins High has always known about her monster on the moors theory—hell, the whole town probably does—and Steve had laughed at it back then, like everyone else, but now Barb is his friend… It leaves a bit of a sour taste in his mouth to think of the way he’d acted about that before, and the way others still act now.

It was arrogance, that sort of reaction. Thinking he was better than her because of her theories. And it was him in particular who was more arrogant than anyone else, hiding behind it to ignore that twinge of anxiety. It was easier to dismiss it all as ridiculous. Steve hadn’t quite been cruel enough to laugh in her face, but he’d still snickered behind his hands with Tommy and Carol before him and Nancy had gotten together early last year. 

Now that he knows Barb, it’s definitely worse. With him being around her so often, it feels like he’s waiting for her to look at him a little too closely and see just what lies beneath the surface. And that’s something he really doesn’t want, not just for his own safety.

They had to come a long way to get to where they stand now, but she’s undoubtedly one of his closest friends. Her, Nancy and Jonathan. All three of them—despite their rocky time when Steve had thought Nancy was cheating on him with Jonathan—are the people he cares about most in this world. 

He really doesn’t want Barb’s obsession with her own ghost story to get in between them all, he couldn’t handle it if they decided he was still a monster even after everything.

“See?” Barb asks, shoving the screen of her cellphone in their faces.

On it, clear as day, is the photo of a paw print. Realistically, it could be anything so it shouldn’t matter… but Steve can’t help the small shudder of anxiety in his chest. It doesn’t even make sense! His parents couldn’t have been up in the moors to leave that—he would know—and there’s no other wolfbloods around for miles of their territory, so it’s got to be an animal. 

And yet.

“Um… What… is it?” Jonathan asks. “Just a paw print?”

Barb huffs, turning to show Nancy instead, who gives the photo a more genuinely intrigued look.

“ ‘Just a paw print’,” Barb grumbles. “This is proof.”

“It could be,” Nancy says, and Steve can tell that she’s serious. “I could also be a fox or something—”

“Yeah, or a stray dog,” Jonathan suggests.

Barb looks at Steve pleadingly, but there’s nothing he can say. He knows this isn’t what Barb wants it to be. It can’t be.

“We need more concrete evidence,” Nancy consoles her instead.

“But this still proves something,” Barb insists. “That there’s something up there.”

“Hey, Barbara!” Carol calls.

The group of them all turn to see Carol, Tina and Vicki walking up behind them.

“I saw something weird on the moors: you.”

The others snicker as they push past, making their way inside. Steve shoots them a sour look as they strut past.

“Whatever, Carol,” Jonathan sighs, never having enough energy to deal with her dramatics.

Steve can’t blame him, it seems impossible that he had been able to get used to what they were like.

“Ignore her,” Nancy tells Barb.

“I will. We’ll show her when we end up being right.”

Nancy nods with an unsettling certainty.

—

Walking in to their form room would be the same as usual were it not for the folder of posters Nancy finally unearths from her bag. She leafs through them, splitting the pile into smaller ones to hand to each of them. Steve accepts his own with a begrudging confusion, peering down at the sign-up sheets and trusting the others to guide his way through the halls.

“When did you have time to print these off?” he asks.

“I came in early,” Nancy tells him with a shrug. “My parents wanted me to show Mike around on his first day anyway, so I was in early.”

Steve hums.

“That’s right, you two—” he gestures between Jonathan and Nancy “—have your brothers starting year 7 now, right?”

Jonathan nods to him; “That’s right.”

They turn a corner, heading towards the stairs up to Mrs Click’s room.

“Why don’t you just get them to sign up for your club, then? They’re nerds. That way you won’t need to stick these up around school.”

Barb rolls her eyes as Steve reaches over her to wave his stack under Nancy’s nose. The brunette just bats him away with an unimpressed look.

“I don’t think they’d find that particularly… cool,” Jonathan answers in her stead, “hanging out with their older siblings.”

Steve shrugs. He can’t say he can relate, being an only child, but whatever, he can see where they’re coming from. 

Barb and Nancy are debating the best ways to go about getting new members for the photography club when Steve goes rigid. They take a few more steps before they realise he’s fallen behind and then, with curious eyes, turn back to call out to him.

Steve doesn’t hear a word of it. Something’s off.

An unusual scent roots him to the spot. He doesn’t know what it is—or maybe he does, but it can’t possibly be what he thinks. All he knows is that this has never been here before, and it shocks him with a deep sense of wrongness. It doesn’t belong there.

He needs to root it out.

An instinctive territoriality spurs him onwards, picking up his pace until his friends are following after him with confused shouts. He needs to find whatever left that scent throughout the school. It’s like he can see it, a trail of scent in the air guiding him to whoever or whatever left it.

“Steve?” Nancy is calling. “Steve!”

He just keeps moving, feet carrying him onwards. Turning down hall after hall, paying no attention to the loitering students he shoulders past. 

“Steve, you’re going the wrong way,” he thinks that might be Jonathan this time.

The bell rings and more students hurry through the corridor, dispelling the scent trail. If Steve had gone through his first transformation by now, he’d probably still be able to track down whoever left it from the lingering traces, but with his senses not being fully developed yet…

He stands still dumbly, staring ahead with a sense of uselessness. The wolf instinct within him feels unappeased.

“C’mon,” Jonathan coaxes, leading him back over to where Barb and Nancy stand looking concerned. “We’ve got class.”

It’s probably lucky for them all that the scent trail Steve was following didn’t create too big of a detour. As it stands, they get into Mrs Click’s class for form in the nick of time. The woman stands up at the front of the room, talking to an unfamiliar head of blonde curls.

At first, Steve notices nothing askew—Mrs Click is talking to the new student about how she is their form tutor and head of year—but then it washes over him. The adrenaline of nearly being late to his first lesson fades and that scent steals his attention again. 

He freezes in where he’s stepped aside to allow Barb to shuffle into their shared desk, eyes swivelling to that new figure. Now that he’s paying attention, it’s like the scent itself is visible in the air, clouding around him with that cloying wrongness and announcing to the world how wrong his presence here is.

There’s a cocksure smirk on his face that makes Steve’s lip curl in disdain, an instinctual need to snarl and warn off the outsider barely suppressed.

“Everyone, this is William Hargrove—”

“Billy,” the new kid buts in. “It's Billy.”

A chorus of ooohs rise from the room, students goading on the attitude shown to their teacher. For her credit, Mrs Click takes it in stride. Instead, she nods and turns to settle the class.

“Okay,” she says, raising her voice over the beginnings of chatter. “That’s enough, thank you…”

But Steve is barely listening. It’s like everything else fades away and his focus narrows down to this William—Billy—still standing at the front of the class. Like Steve’s whole world is overtaken by the beating of his heart and the inescapable smell of him, a smell that’s so familiar. Familiar in a way that has his hackles rising in unease. It’s almost like…

“You smell like my parents,” Steve blurts out, and the rest of the class starts laughing.

Nancy reaches over from her and Jonathan’s desk to yank him down into his seat by the hem of his jumper’s sleeve. She shoots him an unimpressed look as Mrs Click scolds him:

“Alright, Harrington. Sit down.”

Steve barely hears any of them, barely notices any of it. Billy’s eyes had locked on to his, deep and blue and endless. It felt like Steve was falling into them, diving head-first into their emptiness where Billy would eat him alive. 

“Steve,” Barb whispers, jabbing him with an elbow. 

It’s only then that Steve realises he’s been watching Hargrove as he walks over to an empty seat at the very back of the room. 

“What’s gotten into you?” she asks, sounding concerned.

“Nothing,” he dismisses, trying to turn and give her his full attention. “It’s nothing.”

He can’t get involved, not after everything. Steve has been working so hard to prove to his parents and his friends—hell, even to Tommy and Carol as they watch with a smug anticipation for his downfall—that he’s not the guy he used to be. That’s something he can’t just throw away by causing problems with the new kid, even if he’s breaking every rule Steve has ever known.

There’s no question that this Billy is a wolfblood like he is, like his family is. The question is what is he doing here? One doesn’t just set up themselves on some other pack’s territory, and the Harringtons have held the territory around Hawkins for centuries. 

By showing up here, Billy is throwing everything off balance, but Steve can’t risk doing anything about it. Not now, not like this. As much as Steve wants to step up and scare him off, this is something he’s going to have to leave to his parents to deal with.

Even as he feels the itch of Billy’s eyes on the back of his neck, Steve keeps on looking ahead.

—

Billy, so it seems, takes no time to settle into Hawkins. By the time lunch rolls around, he’s already settled himself pride of place between Tommy and Carol, a wolfish curl to his grin that flashes just a hint of canine. It’s so outlandishly taunting that Steve has to sit with his back to their table to avoid staring at his sheer gall.

Nancy and Jonathan are discussing the school paper when Steve decides he can’t stand this silence anymore. He tears his head around from looking over his shoulder after Billy’s eyes catch his and his smirk seems to dim.

“Where the hell did he even come from?” he asks, cutting off Jonathan’s suggestion about… actually Steve isn’t sure, something about a book of the week.

“Who?” Nancy asks and Steve jerks his head back to where Billy now keeps sending glances his way. 

He can feel the others’ gaze on him, like someone is brushing his fur the wrong way. 

“Billy,” he says, trying with great difficulty to keep his tone neutral. “Someone must have seen something. Moving vans or something. Anything.”

Jonathan just shrugs.

“Not that I heard. Seems like everyone’s interested in him now, though.”

Steve looks around again in time to see Tina and Vicki settle themselves in the seats opposite Billy and Carol, effectively severing Steve’s line of sight. He huffs and turns back around. At the very least, them blocking the way soothes that feeling of being observed.

When he meets her eye, Nancy has a concerned look on her face.

“Leave it Steve,” she warns, voice carefully neutral. “You don’t want to get caught up in any trouble again.”

He hears what she’s saying, even if she won’t just come out with it. 

I won’t put up with you if you act like an asshole again.

It rankles him. It’s not even like it’s him doing anything wrong here! He almost wants to tell her that, to point out that for once he’s not just being an asshole, but doesn’t dare. He can’t, he reminds himself.

He couldn’t tell Tommy and Carol—probably for the best given their massive fall out—and so he can’t tell these guys either. No matter what. Which means he just has to bite his tongue and mind himself. This is something he just needs to let lie and have his parents handle it.

They can reach out to Billy’s pack, he thinks. And then this will be sorted.

“And who’s that?” 

Billy’s voice is clear and quiet with consideration, cutting through all the background noise like he had whispered the words directly into Steve’s ear. He shouldn’t be able to hear it, but he can’t help himself from focusing his enhanced hearing to pick up the conversation.

“Him?” Tommy says, breaking off with a derisive laugh. “That’s ‘King Steve’, used to be top dog around here. The Harrington’s have lived here for years, one of those right old families and Steve acted like it until he got all soft and cosied up to Nancy. Well—” Tommy laughs again and Steve clenches his fist beneath the table “—until Nancy ran off after weirdo Byers, there.”

Billy hums, interested. He doesn’t say anything else, but Steve can feel the way his eyes linger on him for a long moment.

The canteen smells like the sweat of overcrowded kids as he takes in steadying breaths through his nose. Jonathan, Barb and Nancy chat on none the wiser. It takes a long moment, but Steve manages to reign in his self control and steel himself into an icy indifference.

It doesn’t matter what Tommy thinks of him. Steve’s moved on, he’s better than this now. And the new kid won’t be around for long. Wolfblood packs don’t mix; even if he’s here now, he won’t be for long. Him and his pack will be long gone by the end of the week.

---

Stick around to see what wonderful work @medusapelagia has put together for us next!! <3

[myobsessionsspace]

I felt the need to write this in light of soo many asks I’ve seen throughout Chapter 2

The crux of the asks that got me here are “I don’t see many moments around Jikook anymore” “We need more Jikook moments” “I don’t think Jikook are close anymore, xx/xx have more moments than them”

*credit to all original owners of art & media

I just want to share *my thoughts*...

How did we meet Jikook?

Some of you may have known of them since debut, some since Blood Sweat & Tears, HYYH era, Dynamite, Butter or even most recently in Chapter Two.

However you became aware of them, you would have also been aware of their group. The reason for their current status. To know Jikook you must in some capacity know Bangtan.

I say this because to have gotten to know Jikook, it would have been through the group using videos, Bangtan Bombs, Bon Voyages, In The Soops, concerts, all of the above, some or none at all.

(I won't mention those that only know Jikook through fanmade edited Tik Tok, fanmade YouTube edits etc.)

We learned more about them as idols, as members, as friends and as brothers. All of what we learnt we learnt with the approval of either the members or their company.

The only other ways to have learnt about them without either theirs or their company’s approval, would have either been through paparazzi, stalker/sasaeng info, fictitious YouTube videos, rumours, guesses and assumptions.

Unless it came from the members directly, from their company, interviews, their music or their filmed content, it wasn’t meant for public consumption. It was most likely not in the members best interest and not in their control.

Now I’m not going to judge our consumption of the above mentioned ‘unapproved’ content. I myself have enjoyed and shared many sighting photos, concert videos, stories from people that had met them etc.

For example when Jikook were spotted heading to Tokyo, prior to that, their private schedule had actually been released, allowing some to know that the two of them had indeed planned to travel alone. They're private concert viewings of other idols & groups, their private cinema and dinner outing and more. This was enjoyable information for jikook fans, supporters and shippers to know but also scary information for the two’s safety, when in the wrong hands.

After their return from their private Tokyo trip that Jungkook organised and paid for as a gift to Jimin, Jungkook published a beautifully directed, edited and produced video of their trip. His first ever Golden Closet Film. On his terms we got full in colour, with meaningful (the permission to use Troye Sivan's song, again paid for by Jungkook) background music, a glimpse of their private trip, through Jungkook’s artistic eye. He shared with us his perspective of what he saw and how he felt felt during their private trip.

I give GCF Tokyo as an example, when we wait for THEM to show US, we get soo much more than 144p blurry images, mistranslations etc.

We get it straight from them, exactly how they see it or how they want us to see it, exactly how they feel it, or how they want us to feel it.

How do we stay with Jikook now?

They are on group hiatus, meaning we just had the last of the Run Bts’ for a while. Bangtan Bombs are now focused on solo endeavours not the group as a whole, to see the group dynamics at present, no group concerts, videos, interviews etc.

Therefore we no longer have company approved content. We still however get member approved content, such as when they go on live, Weverse interactions, music etc.

We still get ‘unapproved content’ such as stalker/sasaeng footage, paparazzi pictures & info, fictitious YouTube videos, rumours, guesses and assumptions.

However with the group just recently celebrating their 10th year anniversary, they are no longer new to idol life, they have learnt from their past, they have reduced their circle. They have increased their security, they are internationally known and more recognisable even with hats, masks & baggy clothes. They also have more money and access now, access to private jets, private rooms, private villas or even just getting whatever they want or need to the privacy of their own homes, no longer shared with a 7 member team.

They no longer have to leave the dorms for a change of scenery, after touring the world, after sharing a form for years, staying home could be said to be their change of scenery at times.

So it’s understandable that the ‘unapproved content’ would be massively reduced in comparison to if they had embarked on Chapter Two 5 years ago.

So we no longer have a lot of company approved content (yes of solo endeavours but rarely of more than 2 members at a time and rarely repeatedly), we don’t have as much ‘unapproved’ content.

What do we the consumers have left?

What the members show us and what the members tell us.

What have the members have shown us/told us?

Since Chapter 2 Jungkook has shown us that he had initially been enjoying down time. Rightfully deserves after training and working since the age of 13/14!

He went through puberty working in the public eye, away from home, away from his parents. Most westerners know how that turns out for some child stars. Bleak. Jungkook has shown the strength of his character by being able to maintain his humility, joy, humour, care for others & love for ARMY.

We know about his down time due to him sharing this with us through his weverse lives. Straight from him, not the company, not sasaengs but him. And we enjoyed it! We love our hours long late night lives with Jungkook. We’ve gone boxing with him, eaten fried chicken with him, sang & danced with him and even most recently had him fall asleep with us TWICE!

Isn’t content straight from the members soo much sweeter?

Jimin, whilst Jungkook was having his down time, was flying all over the globe and in and out of the company's studios & offices. He was having intense music camp like periods with producers and practicing for his solo debut. He didn’t share with us more than a couple of pictures here and there with different producers, but when he did launch his FACE promo and subsequent videos & album, we were and still are GAGGED. Jimin KILLED K-POP in 2023 and DOMINATED (and still is) the industry.

The wait well worth it and we LIVE still!

Jikook

Though the loss of official content for some feels like a Jikook drought, some feel like the loss of official content somehow now means the loss of Jikook’s bond, relationship, whatever you may believe it to be.

Some feel as though the lack of official Jikook means they never were all they felt them to have been. There are a number of things I have seen and heard in regards to Jikook since Chapter 2.

But what have JIKOOK themselves shown us. As I said before, aside from ‘unapproved’ content, which is severely reduced as the members are older, smarter, richer and wiser, we can really only truly rely on the members themselves.

Jungkook

With his downtime, as I said earlier, shared his boxing training, his eating, drinking, watching tv and sleeping with us.

However what did Jikook share with us when Jungkook was boxing?

What did Jungkook share with us when singing?

What did Jungkook share with us on white day?

How sweet was it to see his face light up with each of his interactions with Jimin? How fun was it to watch him stan over Jimin’s music? How cute was if to watch him uwu over Jimin’s interviews?

Jimin

We know had been super busy in being involved with every aspect of his solo debut.

His solo music was and is soo important to him. It was his priority in Chapter 2. However he never failed to show his support with his presence via the comments on MANY of Jungkook’s lives.

Not only that but the biggest gift to ARMY, Jikook supporters and Jungkook was Jungkook’s presence on an album that Jimin clearly stated in multiple interviews had no features. Jungkook’s name is in the credits and his do ring voice cannot be denied, but apart from the credits and the vocals, Jimin has never mentioned Jungkook’s participation.

I guess they really mean it when they say ‘You are Me & I am You’

Letter to *me* is Jimin’s GCF Tokyo. A labour of love, showing us the thoughts, feelings and emotions, this time not through video but through song.

What Jungkook & Jimin have shown us in Chapter two is MORE than enough for me, it’s just as sweet and even sweeter than any ‘unapproved’ or approved content.

If you still need more from them, that is not for their benefit, with their interests in mind or to cement their bond/relationship. That is your issue to deal with.

Whenever you feel like you need ‘more’ from Jikook than they’ve already allowed you to have, go back and watch their labour of love GCF Tokyo (heck pretty much all of the GCFs including Saipan), go back and listen to their labour of love ‘Letter’, go back and read their interviews.

If all of that is still not enough, it’s a you problem.

Not a them problem.

🖤🤍

[midnightkolrath]

Time for another chapter of 'Leo analyzing DMC stuff' with something that woke me up at 4 AM to think about, as a sudden ponder point

So, the series has a running joke of impalement, namely with Dante being impaled by some sort of sword. Mostly his own sword, though. This little running gag comes full circle in DMC5, when Dante laments on why he was given Rebellion and decides to impale himself with the handle that then proceeds to combine with the Sparda sword to unlock his Sin Devil Trigger form.

But thinking about this more, I realized that this sort of thing has been common, not just with Dante himself.

Though, I'm gonna start talking about his thing with DMC3 here.

With the DMC5 screenshot I've included with Dante's dialogue, plus thinking back about that very moment in DMC3, we know Dante unlocked his devil trigger thanks to Vergil through impalement of his own sword. This is THE main moment we see of a form like devil trigger be unlocked this way.

But, funny enough, if we fast forward into DMC4...we get yet another moment where we have our protag be impaled and awoken to atleast a FORM of their devil trigger...with Nero.

As a side tidbit, the details of this awakening are elaborated in the DMC4 novel, Deadly Fortune, where Nero recalls a dream he had after gaining his demonic arm, featuring a familiar voice (that we know is Vergil) that he remembers again as he went temporarily unconscious. (Though in the novel its implied he temporarily died before reviving...it states his 'heartbeat stopped', though the way its pictured in the game...who completely knows).

This moment of remembrance is what triggers not only the first (incomplete) form of Nero's devil trigger, but the reconstruction of the Yamato. This is the second time the domino effect of being stabbed (or perhaps simply overwhelmed in Nero's case...though Agnus did rub the salt in similarly to Vergil against Dante...not with his own sword but with a sword-like object...maybe its a parallel) resulted in the awakening of a devil trigger, or a newfound power.

Now, if we do the fun thing and roll both forward and back, we'll see that Dante and Nero weren't the only ones that experienced a power awakening this way. Thanks to Visions of V, we get a short flashback of Vergil's childhood. This included the very moment there was the demon attack that killed Eva and separated the twins, sending them on their own paths.

A VERY significant moment we (tragically) get to see is a young Vergil getting attacked by these demons, while he's alone. Its horrifying, but also shares a similar theme though much more brutally.

In fact, its similar to Nero's case, which involves impalement like Dante but grows into being overwhelmed to the point of helplessness. ALSO funny enough, its this bit of helplessness, of feeling that power is NEEDED to get themselves out of the situation they're in to survive for one way or another...that Yamato comes right to their side. When its needed most.

This is, for Vergil, an awakening to what would become his path to gain power at any cost, to never have to feel this helplessness again while also being haunted about the lack of strength he had to protect his mother.

Its interesting that this moment mirrors Nero's claim to yamato in DMC4, with even the desire and call for more power led to Yamato returning to its restored form and going to Nero's side. Like father, like son.

My original point, though, was how a funny ironic running joke of being impaled one way or another in this series apparently leads to awakening of power or resolve for the Sparda clan. This series has many running themes if you look for them, but this is one I've noticed lately. I wonder if Sparda himself went through something like this in his time (heh).