#i have things to do and i keep starting new ones instead

[redpulsive]

SYLUS ⋆˚✿˖° grinding/dryhumping

18+ Minors DNI

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣

This is just kind of a yappathon/hc thing about Sylus being a grinding machine, literally dryhumper9000 in TWO fucking cards now. Night of Secrecy and Valleydream Bloom both have kiss scenes where this man is ON TOP of you and MOVING FOWARDS while eating your face (love that for us)

Here’s a wonderful example of what I’m talking about. Anyway, I’m just going to babble about this in bullet points from here. (Believe me, it gets better and more imaginative the more you read my nonsense)

Imagine him putting his WHOLE body weight on you, literally welded against him while he’s grinding into you and kissing you senseless… ‼️

This man is HUGE, he is HEAVY, he is absolutely ENGULFING you when he’s on top and taking initiative

I feel like it’s his favorite thing to do ever. You’re already below him, tf are you supposed to do now? He’s got you trapped for a barrage of kisses and love bites, that’s your new spot for the next few hours!

Breathless and overstimulated. Fulfilled, yet always yearning for more.

I just KNOW he talks to you the whole time too, like you cannot make out anything going around the two of you. He’s got all five of your senses in a dizzy chokehold as he murmurs sweet nothings, praises and his desires while you can hardly think straight.

Oh and he whines and whimpers during it too, there’s just something so primal and intoxicating about it that he doesn’t hold back any of his sounds and words.

I feel like he always gets so needy and eager at first. Like he’s not necessarily going fast, but his hips are kinda snappy to get his point across. On the other hand, his kisses are pretty relentless. ALTHOUGH, as the two of you get so intoxicated and dryhumped out, his actions become more and more lazy but sooooo very passionate.

Your hearts are pounding together as your breathless gasps mingle between insanely languid and lingering kisses, his hips rolling into yours with the same energy as a flame of a candle wick dying out on its own. Giggling and kicking my feet.

Now, while I do think grinding in missionary is his favorite way of going about it, I just know he’s a sucker for you grinding on his lap when you want to have control. Oh my god, don’t get me started, this man is squeezing your ass and the backs of your thighs trying to keep you as close to him as possible.

He probably couldn’t help himself and grind his hips up against yours. Especially when he’s got the skin of your neck/shoulder between his teeth, like he’s scruffing you and keeping you still.

But don’t tease him too much, he’d let you get away with it a few times but if you keep pushing his buttons he will flip you onto your back and tease YOU instead.

THIGH GRINDING, Oh my god no one talks about this, if you want some action on a day where he has no stamina he will gladly let you sit on his thigh and grind against it. Godddd imagine his groggy voice saying things like “Go on, kitten. Keep using me until you’re satisfied. I don’t want you to stop until you get your fill.” While he’s looking you with hazy eyes and massaging your hip(s) or thigh(s). Maybe he’d read a book or drink some wine while he’s at it, give you some kisses here and there to keep you engaged. Or maybe if he’s TOO tired he’ll rest his face against your chest and listen to your rapid heartbeat as your movements rock his head.

I’m a little abnormal rn

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣

[jaylaxies]

CALL ME WHEN YOU HATE ME LESS

PAIRING: lee jeno x fem!reader (ft. jaehyun and jaemin)

GENRE/CW: smut, angst, eventual fluff, porn with plot, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, choking, blowjob, using panties as a gag, spitting, edging, squirting, mentions of fighting, blood, usage of nicknames, slowburn if you squint, emotional trauma, lmk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT: 18,321 words. (18.3k)

PLAYLIST: here.

SYNOPSIS: Jeno Lee was a walking academic hazard—hot, broody, and failing just about everything that wasn’t football. Enter you, his new tutor: organized, overachieving, and absolutely not here for his attitude or his annoyingly perfect jawline. But between late-night study sessions, petty insults, and one very inconvenient almost-kiss, things start spiraling—fast. He’s supposed to be you project. You are supposed to hate him. Instead, you both are one sarcastic comment away from either a breakdown or a makeout—and honestly, it could go either way.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni (the full fic will include smut).

A/N: hihi, angels! i'm finally back with a jeno fic aaa thank you my girls @jaeminvore @hoondrop @gojosmojodojo for giving me ideas and listening to me losing my shit over this fic <333 i hope y’all enjoy reading it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

Chapter 1: Raised in Shadows, Told to Shine. 

Comparison. 

The core of all insecurities. The onset of overthinking. The path to self loathing. 

That’s what comparison does to a person—drive them to the edge of insanity in hopes of turning into something; into someone the others will look up to, compare themselves to. 

It was a bad thing per se, but it was motivation enough for Jeno to work harder in order to leave the country, to get away from his family. 

The reason? His mother ever so conveniently happened to have fallen in love with a rich guy, someone who never knew what struggle meant, and Jeno was just four back then. It didn’t take much time for him to settle into the lifestyle, however, no matter how much he could have prepared to face his step-brother, he simply couldn’t bother looking him in the eye. 

Why? Because he was known to be the epitome of perfection. Jung Jaehyun was the son every parent wanted, the student every teacher was fond of, the doctor every nurse wanted to work with. 

The sweet dimple on his cheek was a great asset in melting the hearts of everyone in his proximity or afar. 

Jeno on the other hand, wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t considered to be enough, especially when he got decent grades throughout his school life, he wasn’t a bother, kind to those who were around them, but it changed. 

It changed when he got daily reminders of how he wasn’t even close to how amazing and successful his step brother was. 

That’s when things started looking down for Jeno. He stopped caring about the grades, he wasn’t sure why he was supposed to put up a I’m so good, so smart act in front of others when there was no reason for him to do that. 

Others didn’t bother doing the same for him. 

Rather, he tried to work upon the only thing he was passionate about, the only thing that mattered to him—football. 

Despite winning several trophies for playing the sport, his parents labelled it to be useless, which broke the last fragment of his heart, shattering it to the point of no return. 

Which would explain his current demeanor—moody, permanent scowl on his perfectly sculpted face and no care for the others around him. His sole focus being football, which is also the reason behind his current dilemma. 

“Being an excellent player in the sports team does not guarantee you your scholarship, Mr. Lee,” Jeno’s teacher incharge spoke up, taking off her specs right after reviewing his annual grade report, “you’re failing three out of five modules, and if you don’t start getting back on track soon, then I’m afraid you won’t be able to play in the team anymore.” 

Fuck. 

Jeno had been neglecting his studies, he admits, yet he never thought that he’d reach this point. It’s not that he wasn’t smart, he simply had no motivation to go on with his studies. His parents could easily pay the university to keep him around, however, he wanted nothing from them, which also explains why he got himself a scholarship in the first place. 

“I’m sorry if I’m late.” Jeno’s eyes snapped wide open, turning back to see his step brother entering the teacher’s cabin. 

“Why are you here?” Jeno asked, a muscle in his jaw twitching but Jaehyun only smiled. 

Jeno’s professor was equally stunned, probably even more with her jaw wide open at the appearance of such a handsome young man. 

“I called him in since your parents were busy,” his professor said, handling Jeno a letter, “go and find your tutor in the council room, she’ll be helping you with the upliftment of your grades, Mr. Lee, and now if you’ll excuse us, I’ve got to fill in your brother with your current situation,” she said the last part awfully sweetly as Jaehyun sat down in one of the vacant chairs, smiling at her kind tone. 

Jeno scoffed, the demeanor change around Jaehyun went crazy and he wasn’t a fan of it, especially when he was called in to complain about his mistakes. 

He simply wanted to leave the university and never come back. 

He waited, taking deep breaths before punching the wall, not being able to contain his anger. The impact did hurt, yet he paid no heed to it, the blood dripping as he walked towards the council room to get over with the day. 

The name written on the sheet wasn’t unfamiliar to him, rather it only wearied the already infuriated boy as he knocked on the door of the student council room, which was empty except for you sitting there, working on a few papers which appeared to be the newsletter for the month. 

“Come in,” you allowed, not looking up as Jeno made his way inside the room, observing the surroundings where he’s never been before. 

Then he looked your way, taking in your appearance. You looked cozy in your university varsity jacket, your specs sitting on your nose as you buried yourself in reading whatever it was that you were reading. He couldn’t deny you looked pretty in a way that’s comforting to eyes. 

With no words exchanged, he pushed the letter towards you, which finally made you look up at the source of disturbance, your eyebrows raising slightly as you most certainly did not expect the star football player to visit you in the council room, which he’s never been to before. 

He simply stood there, hands shoved into his pockets while still looking around, and you took a second to grab the letter, skimming over to read and understand that the letter was given by Mrs. Kim, the teacher in charge of your department, requesting you to take up the few teaching sessions you had applied for, Jeno being the student you’ll have to teach for the same. 

You clicked your tongue, folding the letter exactly as it was before pushing it his way, your arms folding across your chest as you finally spoke up, “I reject. I don’t wish to teach you.”

His eyes were quick to snap towards you, finally staring right into your own eyes, irritation clear as he pushed his tongue on his inner cheek, eyebrow raised. 

“Aren’t you supposed to kiss your professor’s feet, given that you’re in student council? And here I thought you’d be a good girl.” Jeno rasped, resting his arms on your table, leaning down to your level. 

You chuckled, expecting the exact response from him, “this is exactly why I don’t want to waste my time on you—you athletes don’t wish to study, you just require a passing grade, for which I don’t have time to spare.” 

“What the fuck do you mean waste your time?” 

“Lee Jeno, you’ve got more money with you than your bank account can handle, so I’m sure losing your scholarship won’t do you much harm,” you said with a sickening smile, “you’ve got no interest in studying, your attendance record states that oh so proudly.” 

“You don’t know shit about me,” Jeno seethed out, messy hair strands falling over his eyes. 

“I know everything I need to know about you. Now excuse me, unlike you, I actually have work to do,” you said, passing him a tight lipped smile, not letting the proximity faze you. 

“You—” 

Jeno’s sentence was cut short with two sharp knocks on the slightly ajar door, a head peeking in, successfully garnering your attention. You could feel your mood doing one eighty with the sudden intrusion of this stranger—whom you didn’t wish to be a stranger around anymore, your eyes softening, lips parting as you stared at him in awe. 

Meanwhile, if Jeno thought that the day was done being a bitch to him, then he was wrong because the level of irritation that bubbled up in him the moment he saw the change in your expressions. 

“Sorry to interrupt, may I get in?” Jaehyun asked, smiling his usual dimpled smile, which had you swooning in record time. 

You could practically see veins of frustration popping out on Jeno’s neck, “no. Your work is done, you should head back home,” he groaned, but Jaehyun only looked you way, continuing to get in, looking your way. 

“I’m Jaehyun, Jeno’s elder brother. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing on giving him tutoring lessons, especially with how busy you must be with council duties,” he spoke up, shaking your hand, which was smaller in his warm, big hands. 

Jeno scoffed, “she’s not—”

“Of course, Jaehyun! It’s my pleasure to help him out, and it’ll only help me better with my extracurricular credits! It’s no problem,” you nodded, a gentle smile on your face as your eyes practically twinkled with excitement, taking in the beauty that Jaehyun beheld. 

It was ridiculous. 

It was absurd how just two sentences; paired with a sweet smile from his brother, were enough for you to change your decision, in the span of two seconds at that. 

He tightened the hold he had on the strap of his black bag, “no fucking need. I’ll find another tutor,” Jeno deadpanned, walking out of the room, not paying attention to Jaehyun who called out his name in the background. 

He wouldn’t let you use him to get to his brother. 

With that thought, he decided to detour and make his way to the gym, trying to blow off steam by practicing punching, each one getting progressively stronger as his mind replayed the difference in your behaviour when it came to him and his brother. 

It didn’t bother him that his knuckles were bruising, he knew he needed this extrinsic pain to get rid of the obvious hurt he felt each day. 

And he couldn’t understand why he felt so affected by your actions, especially when it was the first time you had met. 

Jealousy was indeed a bitch. 

Chapter 2: Surrendered to the skirt. 

Two days passed by and Jeno’s mood showed no progress in terms of improving, rather, he felt worse each time the memory invaded his brain. He tried his best to sit down and open the first module of the unit he had to study. 

It’s not like he was bad at studying, he was just a bit out of practice, and well, his mental health wasn’t doing much to help him get any better. 

Just when he was about to actually get a hang of getting into the topic, the doorbell rang. His parents were out for business, as usual, and his step brother was busy doing morning shifts, which meant that he was alone at the mansion, minus the myriad of worker staff they had to take care of the place. 

Essentially, he had to get down to see who it was at the door, only to spot you leaning against the doorframe as one of the attendants had asked you to wait. He stopped, observing you from the staircase as you typed something on your phone. 

Why were you here after clearly rejecting him? Why were you here when he’s clearly told you he doesn’t want you to be his tutor?

Scoffing, he walked down the stairs and towards you, standing right in front of you, clearly invading your personal space as he decided to lean against the same side of the thick door frame with his brows raised.

You took a second to take in his appearance as he was clad in casual gray sweatpants with a black tank, which honestly did nothing to hide his muscles. 

“Why are you here?” Jeno asked with a bored tone. 

“I’m here to teach you, remember?” You gave him a pointed look. 

“And I clearly told you I don’t wish to study from you, it’s better if you leave now. I’ll just tell Mrs. Kim that you taught me,” he said, almost turning back to go inside. 

“And have them wondering how you failed even after getting tutored by me? Yeah, I don’t think so,” you shook your head, inviting yourself in without second thoughts. 

“Y/n, I’m not fucking kidding, you should leave. Besides, the one you came for isn’t at home at the moment,” he muttered bitterly. 

That caught your attention, “oh? Busy with a job then?” You asked, looking around the exquisite paintings hung at the entrance of his place. 

“Are you gonna leave or do I have to call the guards to escort you out?”

You chuckled, “you really don’t want the previous year questions I have? The council students get them each year you see, they’re bound to guarantee you good marks,” you explained with a smirk. 

Jeno groaned, his lip bitten as he tried to think if tolerating you would be worth the questions, but his football career was at stake and there was no better option but to accept it. 

“What’s the catch?” Jeno asked after a few seconds, sighing with defeat. 

“Nothing at all. We both know that you need these papers to get the grade that you wanna achieve and I’ll get my extra credits,” you reason. 

“You just wanna meet my brother,” he said dryly, “either way, you won’t get to see a lot of him, he’s always at the hospital, working and being the perfect son he is. Plus, he’s definitely not into uni students,” he looked you up and down, soon gulping and looking elsewhere. 

You were clad in a pretty skirt which showed off your legs—which you did wear in hopes of crossing paths with Jaehyun, but you completely missed how Jeno was staring at your body. 

He wasn’t sure if it was out of hatred that he stared at you, or it was admiration because you were one of those people he despised—overachievers.  

You were in the student council, got good grades and professors favoured you, it wouldn’t be a surprise if your parents loved you for being the ideal daughter. It most certainly didn’t help that your appearance seemed as if you were the sweetest, kindest angel on earth, which wasn’t the case when you were around Jeno though. 

“I’ll manage,” you shrugged, “so, I need your final word, Mr. Lee.”

“I am sure I can find better tutors than you,” he raised his brows, challenging you and you didn’t look fazed at all. 

“I am quite literally the best, professor Kim asked me to tutor you for a reason, besides, no one’s gonna agree to help you out with exams being only one month away,” you made your point, extending your hand for him to finalize his decision. 

Overconfidence. He sighed. 

Jeno stared at your extended hand, thinking of the bigger picture here. He’d get tutoring and would be able to score decent grades if he gets back to his usual routine of studying. 

Downside? He’d have to face you each day. 

Sighing and keeping his feelings in check, he simply nodded, taking your smaller hand into his as he accepted the offer, suddenly aware of the warmth of your palm and how it leaves a tingling feeling behind as you shake his hand firmly with a smirk. 

“So, where are we gonna study?” 

Chapter 3: Silent room, a loud mind. 

Turns out, it’s not that easy to sit down and just teach Jeno. 

Given the amount of classes he had missed, or rather, the amount of classes he had managed to attend, it was clear that he didn’t even have the basic idea of the syllabus for the semester modules. 

Moreover, you had already pissed him off by mentioning how you didn’t expect him to have such a clean and organized room, as if you had already decided that he was going to be a messy human. 

Moving forward, you both sat down next to each other with your laptop open in front of you as you made him write down all the topics he needed to cover for the next month, forming a sort of timetable of a kind. 

It was surprisingly peaceful between you two, as if you both wished to get over with it as soon as possible, behaving as civilly as you could but there was this one thing that Jeno couldn’t stop doing. 

Overthinking. 

It’s the way you looked his way with disappointed and concerned filled eyes whenever he messed up, the way his jaw clenched when you told him to do better, the way he couldn’t help but stare at your glossed up lips as you looked around his room, eyes settling on his childhood pictures which were framed. 

It was also new to him to actually interact with people outside of his football team, especially girls. He couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to one. He wondered what was going on in your mind, he wondered if you were silently judging him through it all.

That’s all what people in his life did anyway. 

“You were cute as a kid, what happened to you now?” You joked, chuckling as you looked his way, only to find his mouth slightly agape.

He hadn’t expected you to say that, and he certainly didn’t want to retort back with something that would ruin his mood, “I grew up to be hot is what happened to me,” he replied smoothly. 

“Oh, so you do know how to joke around,” you raised your brows in surprise. It was indeed the image he had formed over the years. The image of him being nothing more than a rude jock who wouldn’t even reply to someone nicely. 

Now that you were actually interacting with him, you were going to find out how many of the rumors were true about him. 

He only leaned closer at your statement, you could see his muscles flexing as he rested one arm on the table in front of you both, “it’s not a joke, love. I am hot.”

You scoffed at the term of endearment, suddenly aware of his scent now that he was so close to you, “and egoistic too,” you helpfully added. 

“Rightfully so.”

Your childish argument was interrupted that very second as the door to Jeno’s room swung open, revealing the exact man you came to see. 

Jaehyun was smiling, dressed in black slacks and a button up shirt as he welcomed you here, and you were quick to notice Jeno’s mood turning fowl that very second. 

“Thank you so much for coming here, Y/n. Let me send a few snacks and drinks for you both while you study,” he smiled, and you rushed up to stand, not even bothering about the pen that fell down as you did so. 

“Jaehyun,” you walked up to him, much to Jeno’s dismay, “oh, you don’t have to do anything,” you smiled sweetly, and he only shook his head softly, grabbing your arm. 

“Don’t worry about it, just sit and relax, okay?” He squeezed your arm, going downstairs and you sighed with a smile. Even his scent was perfect to you. 

“You done daydreaming?” Jeno asked, deadpanning once his brother had left. 

“You done solving the question?” You retorted. 

He sighed, as if his energy was drained already, “yeah, just check and get this over with,” he said, handing you the binder and looking elsewhere. 

It was probably the first time you actually paid attention to his dejected tone, as if he didn’t have the energy to fight back, and you obviously didn’t wish to irk him more, especially when he looked so frustrated right now. Thankfully, a lot of his answers were indeed correct, which was another surprise to you. 

He was smart, he just simply didn’t wish to study. 

“Something wrong?” He asked, cocking his brow and you blinked, “you’re actually not as dumb as you portray yourself to be,” you mumbled, checking everything thoroughly. 

It should’ve been insulting to Jeno per se, but even the slightest amount of approval was a big thing for him, causing the corner of his lips to curl up. He felt insane, the amount of emotions he felt in a single day was perhaps the reason for the same, courtesy of you. 

He was glad Jaehyun didn’t enter the room again, sending in a servant staff to give you the snacks instead, which maintained the peace throughout the session. 

You couldn’t help but notice how well he concentrated once there was silence in the room, your eyes focused on his hand gripping the pen, making it seem more veiny than it already was. 

Also, you didn’t miss the hint of a smile ghosting his face when you told him he did a good job right before leaving, which made you think of a few things, one being— 

He looked beautiful with a smile. 

Chapter 4: You can’t read my mind, so read my lips. 

As much as Jeno loved the comfort of his room, he really wanted to avoid you bumping into Jaehyun again.

Even the thought of your interactions, your fake sweet smiles, made him wanna punch the wall. Jaehyun really had it easy and Jeno never understood why, it was no joke that Jeno was decent looking as well, talented in his own way, and a kind hearted person who just happened to have a protective wall around him so as to not get hurt any further. 

Which is why you had been tutoring him in the library from the past ten sessions, his own personal request to avoid having privacy with you. 

Heck, even Jeno didn’t know it was his own mind trying to protect him, which is why he couldn’t let anyone in, anyone.  

Which made this situation far from ideal as he had you pressed against the library wall, no distance between you both as you closed your eyes in pure distress. 

“What the actual fuck is he doing here?” Your question was directed more to yourself, which confused Jeno further.

He poked his tongue into his cheek, annoyance creeping through, “what the fuck is going on?” He asked. 

“Shhh, not so loud,” you pressed your palm against his mouth, “just hide me.”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrist effortlessly, pinning it above your head, “you don’t tell me what to do, yeah?” He mumbled, flustering you under his gaze before your eyes travelled back to where you were looking initially. 

He sighed in annoyance, looking back at the direction of your supposed fear. 

Na Jaemin. Another of Jeno’s football teammates. 

“Why are you hiding from Jaemin,” he asked, brow raised as he leaned into you. 

“Ugh,” you groaned, “he’s my ex, he shouldn’t even be in the library, he’s never here!” You were stressed and Jeno smirked devilishly. 

“Fucking hell, you’re the girl he keeps on stalking and crying about?” He chuckled, “let me call him,” he turned away for a second. 

You used your free hand to grab his nape, “don’t fucking move,” you mumbled. 

Perhaps you were too harsh with the grabbing, also not calculating the proximity enough, because Jeno’s nose was brushing against yours, lips close to the point of touching, and a low groan escaping his lips as your name rolls out his tongue in the most angry grunt ever, “what the actual fuck are you doing?” 

“J—just let him leave,” you mumbled, gulping and closing your eyes, his mint breath fanning your face as heat crept up your neck, up till your ears. 

“What will I get out of it,” he asked, his free hand resting on your waist now, “why should I help you?”

“I’m literally helping you study, Jeno,” you seethed out.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he groaned, making you open your eyes, staring into his deep ones now, suddenly feeling small under his gaze, and well, his body. 

“What?” you asked, looking away to check if Jaemin had left, pushing Jeno away the second you confirmed it. 

Jeno, however, wasn’t having any of it. 

With a scoff and the shake of his head, he grabbed your wrist again, twisting it behind your back, not putting too much pressure so it just hurt but still made it clear how he would not let you go so easily, “you can’t run from me.”

“Let go, I fucking swear—” you let out, squirming around and pushing him, he didn’t budge at all sadly. 

“You do realize I’m a lot stronger than you, right?” He chuckled. 

“Fuck—what do you want me to do?” You rolled your eyes, jaw clenching as you looked at him. 

Before he could answer, your eyes widened in fear yet again as you yanked his arm so forcefully, he had no chance to balance himself, a yelp leaving his mouth as you ran and he was following right after you. 

Jaemin was back and you could just not deal with his ass anymore, hence the overwhelming response. Fight or flight? Flight for sure. Dragging Jeno into it might be a stretch but hey, whatever helped you run away from the gremlin, right? 

“Y/N,” Jeno hissed yet again, once you stopped by your seat, gathering both yours and his belongings scattered across the table from when you were studying a few minutes back, before getting up to find a book, before seeing Jaemin roaming around the halls of the library. 

It was quite amusing to Jeno if he was being honest, a mix of feelings as you grabbed his wrist effortlessly yet again, your eyes set on the exit door leading to the parking lot where Jeno’s Ferrari Purosangue stood proudly. 

“Get in!” You screamed even though you were far from the threat (read: Jaemin) now. 

“That’s my car in case you forgot—”

“Now.” 

“So fucking annoying—” He grumbled, with a small smile playing on his lips. 

You looked so bothered as if you were chased by Ghostface and not Jaemin, even though you probably wouldn’t run away from the prior. It was comical regardless, the long breath you exhaled once you were comfortable on his premium quality car seat, head leaned back fully. 

You opened your eyes after a few seconds only to find Jeno’s eyes on you, face curved into an amused look. You stared at one another for a second, two seconds, three seconds—and he burst out laughing. 

It was probably the first time you saw him laugh like that—so freely, without any care in this world. It was loud but breathless, making his eyes crinkle with small crescents forming, his perfectly aligned pearly teeth showing as he went on, laughing at your disheveled state and crazy response to everything that happened the past twenty minutes. 

You were calm and composed for the most part, it was rare for you to look this frustrated over anything, which came as a surprise to Jeno, the whole situation seemingly pure comedy to him. 

You observed him so carefully, your own lips twitching into a smile and before you knew it, you were laughing alongside him so normally as if two friends were laughing over a joke. 

A weird sort of warmth spread over your body, it made no sense honestly, you were pinned to the wall just a few minutes back and Jeno looked as if he’d burst into flames with his anger, and now he’s laughing at your disheveled, non-composed state. 

Once Jeno caught you staring back at him with glittering eyes, and a little smile, he froze. It was easy for him to come back to his senses (read: put his walls back up) which only made your smile drop too. It was awkward, both of you looking elsewhere while clearing your throats, definitely not something you expected. 

“Uh—sorry about that, yeah,” you mumbled, playing with the loose threat of your sweater sleeve. 

“Yeah, no problem,” he retorted, turning the car engine on to start driving. 

Why was it awkward? Because you laughed together like two absolutely normal individuals? Because you had Jeno pinning you to the wall to avoid your ex? 

Or because you almost kissed. Almost. 

 The ride back to your apartment was silent, no songs playing in the car, just the small buzz of engine, and the nail tapping on the screen of your phone—to avoid any kind of conversation happening, also clearly missing out on how Jeno glanced at you every few seconds, the speed of his thoughts running faster than his own car. 

“I’ll—see you tomorrow then?” Your voice cracked as you said so, wincing slightly at your own tone. 

Jeno was about to chuckle again, yet he covered it with a low cough as he mumbled a yes, as you opened the door once he stopped in front of your apartment. 

That’s it, you were leaving, and his eyes didn’t leave you till you disappeared into the apartment. 

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, groaning as he banged his head into it, a low horn sound only frustrating him further. It was hard for him to drive after, the scene of you being so vulnerable yet glaring at him like a scared little vixen trying to look brave, replayed in his mind. 

No, he couldn’t drive, couldn’t focus on the road anymore, stopping the car at a random parking lot of a fast food chain, grabbing his phone to pull up Instagram, specifically Jaemin’s account. 

He didn’t have to scroll much to find the picture he was looking for—his teammate, Jaemin, standing right next to you with his arm resting on your waist. Jeno didn’t know why that picture left a bitter taste in his mouth all of a sudden, knowing well how badly Jaemin fucked up when he cheated on you. 

And now the asshole is running after you again. 

You didn’t deserve that, you deserve someone better—someone perfect like you. 

He went back, not having it in him to look at the picture again, instead, going to your account now. It looked professional, all your posts being highly calculative to make your feed look pleasing. Your highlights, however, had this one particular picture—a picture of you smiling without a care in the world, so raw, so genuine, so beautiful. 

Beautiful. 

Jeno thought you looked beautiful, and it made him angry. 

He was angry—because deep down, he desired to be the reason for your smile. 

Chapter 5: Pretty in pink, but my head’s in the dark. 

Jeno made you smile. 

You did know that laugh was contagious, however, you didn’t think you’d actually give in to Jeno’s sweet chuckles. 

Sleep didn’t come to you easy when the constant reminder of the study session poked the back of your mind, not to mention what happened in the library earlier, where you and Jeno almost kissed—

No. 

You shook your head. Such niche experiences never falter you, so why was this such a big deal? 

Another groan left your mouth, but alas, your body was relaxed enough to sleep so you woke up energetic the next day. It felt oddly friendly when you saw Jeno at the University, and he threw a two finger salute your way, you waved back before going your way. 

“You’re zoned out, again.” Karina, one of your classmates, pointed out and you sighed as she rambled about how you needed to let some guy in, quite literally, to blow off some steam, which you clearly weren’t doing, hence the stuck up energy. 

Being descriptive about it didn’t help either—yet another reminder of how Jeno’s body was pressed against yours this hour, yesterday. 

Heat crept up your neck, urging you to pack up and leave the room. It was hot, stuffy almost for you to do anything, which is why you found yourself studying at the empty seat of the University park. 

You had to face him again, of course, there was no escape to that, and as if the universe was testing you, the time passed by way too quickly for your liking and soon, you found yourself standing in front of the main door of Jeno’s place. 

Before you could even ring the bell, the door opened to a huffing Jeno, almost as if he ran downstairs, but how did he know—

“Hey,” he whispered, looking around. 

He didn’t wait for your reply, simply grabbing your wrist and dragging you inside, your skin burning at the unexpected touch, but you didn’t shake him off of you, only asking in a low tone, “what are you doing?” 

“Shh,” Jeno mumbled, as though he was trying to avoid someone, or rather, trying to hide you from someone. His efforts were futile, however, once he heard that stern voice of his mother booming through the walls of his mansion. 

Now you get why Jeno was in a hurry, the look on her face had a chill going down your spine. 

You felt Jeno stiffen alongside you, his hold on your wrist now tighter, uncontrollably so. 

“You must be the new tutor for Jeno,” she said, scrutinizing every bit of your existence, Jeno’s jaw clenched at her unwavering gaze. 

“Yes ma’am, It’s a pleasure meeting you,” you tried to say, only for her to cut you off. 

“Trust me, darling. There must be no pleasure in helping Jeno, but I do hope he learns a thing or two from you—you look like a smart young lady, hopefully, a positive influence on him.” 

You looked at her with your mouth open slightly, not believing the sight in front of you. No mother should look down on their children like that, ever. 

“Mrs. Jung, I hope we’re talking about the same Jeno because he is amazing at studies, he grasps concepts faster than I do, and then I believe I’m the one who’s learning from him right now!” You smiled, full of enthusiasm, feeling Jeno’s hand dropping down from your wrist. 

“In fact, I’ve never seen anyone play football so perfectly while also being so brilliantly academically smart, I firmly believe his grades will shock you this time. Now, if you’ll excuse us, it’s time for our tutoring session.”

You passed her a small smile, the shock clear on her face, before grabbing Jeno’s hand and taking him along with you—to his room. You didn’t look back, simply closing the door as you breathed out with a pissed expression. 

Jeno’s heart was beating fast, he wasn’t sure if he had words to speak at this moment, so staring at you was all he could do. 

You spoke for him. 

You defended him. 

No one’s ever done that, no one cared enough to understand, moreover, it didn’t help how you looked angrier than him at the situation. 

“W—Why?” Jeno couldn’t keep his voice in check, “you didn’t have to—say all that.”

That’s when you turned around, facing him. All your anger disappeared once you focused on his face, so vulnerable, so confused, so desperate to know your answer. 

“Jeno,” the gentleness in your voice only made him gulp and look down at the floor, “I hope you don’t believe a word she says, because that’s not true,” you spoke, inching closer. 

You were not one who was good at making people feel better, Jeno of all people at that, however, this gave you an insight of why Jeno is the way he is—closed off, hence the lack of words from your side, but you knew you had to say it. 

That’s the thing, we judge people too quickly, you always had snarky remarks for him, not knowing how deep they cut him. He looked shaken right now, traumatized, especially because you experienced a part of his life which he never wanted to share with anybody. 

“Jeno, you’re doing so well, you know that right?” You whispered, as genuine as possible, your fingers grabbing his own, which made him look up at you finally. 

He was shaken, not from his mother’s words—he was used to them—but from yours. 

“No one’s ever said that,” he spoke so silently, you almost missed it. You held his hand tight—being almost angrier than him while answering his mom back—he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be over that. 

Jeno didn’t realize his eyes were glistening. 

“What?” You breathed out. 

He gulped yet again, jaw clenched now as he struggled to get his words out, the floor being the most interesting thing to him, “defended me. No one’s done that.”

“I—is that why you hate Jaehyun? Because people only see him?” You asked, wincing at the question when you saw him stiffen again, a sharp pang in your chest once he brushed your hand off of his. 

“Don’t. Don’t fucking go there.”

“I didn’t mean—” 

“Oh I fucking know what you mean. Everyone sees him fuck—you see him, because he’s perfect, right? That’s what he is, perfect,” he seethed out, “you don’t know what it’s like—to live in someone’s shadow,” there was a flash of pain in his eyes. 

You stayed mum, letting him speak. 

“Every place, every room, every fucking person just sees him,” he muttered, “I need to better, but it’s never enough, because he already did it—Jaehyun did it better. You look at him the same way as others do, and me? The afterthought—the failure.”

Your heart broke a little, guilt settling in because unknowingly, you fueled the same anger and trauma for him. 

“Jeno,” you mumbled, “you’re not a failure.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’m starting to,” you spoke, and he looked up, “and thank god you’re not Jaehyun,” you chuckled, fingers ghosting near his jaw, your touch featherlight, making him suck in a deep breath. 

“Why?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes hopeful, which scared him. 

“Because you’re real, you don’t fake your emotions. You don’t smile at somebody who you don’t care about, you get angry, messy, you let yourself be shown how you are,” you lip twitched slightly as you said so, your own heartbeat rose at the sentences you so easily uttered, “that’s what makes you a human, Jeno, a human who’s trying his best, which is what matters.”

He blinked. 

He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t, simply leaning into your touch with his eyes closed. 

“You’re you, the stupid jock who’s not scared of anything, yeah?” You tried to make him smile, which helped as you saw his lips curving up. 

Midway through your sentences, you genuinely questioned yourself about why you even like Jaehyun, it was honestly just your mind playing games with you. 

“You scare me,” he muttered. 

“Why?”

“Because you say things so convincingly, it makes me wanna believe you.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Just—don’t say it when you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” you said in a breath, his eyes on yours now, more intense than ever, “I mean every word.”

He stared a little longer, staring at you unamused as if you’d laugh in his face right this second. You didn’t. 

“You’re serious,” he said, voice hoarse. 

You nodded softly. 

Jeno took a single step forward, the air around you so tight, it felt like a rubber band stretched to its max, on the verge of snapping back. 

You inhaled sharply once Jeno’s cold hand brushed the hair on your shoulder, grazing against your bare skin, moving up your nape. 

“Do you have any idea what you just said to me?” He murmured, eyes locked on yours, turning you around easily to pin you against the wall—something he liked to do, apparently. 

“Tell me,” you mumbled. 

If someone told you two days back that you’d be in Jeno’s room, calming him down before getting into a compromising position with him, you would have laughed in their faces. It was reality for you now, something that made you feel so unconventionally flustered. 

The way he brushed his thumb along your jaw, slow and deliberate, made you shiver, “you’re making me forget that i’m supposed to hate this—feeling anything.” 

You were hanging on the last bit of your sanity, drowning in Jeno’s scent, his nose brushing against your cheek, hand gripping your waist, heat radiating off of your body. 

“Jeno—”

“Say it again,” he whispered. 

“Say what?” You breathed. 

“That you’re glad I’m not him.”

You chuckled under his hold, your voice still shaking, “I’m so glad—so fucking glad you’re not him.” 

His breath sounded like a curse, lips hovering a breath above yours, you could feel his hesitation against your skin. He wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch someone as perfect as you, yet you didn’t stop him, the space in between you was so tight, it might as well elicit electricity. 

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, only leaning into his touch, resting your hand over the top of his on your jaw. The touch was faint, yet you could feel it everywhere. 

You held your breath as he leaned in—

Knock. 

Jeno swore under his breath as you flinched, it physically hurt him to step back. 

“Jeno?” Of course, it was Jaehyun who had to interrupt you two. 

Your hands trembled as Jeno moved to the door, and you quickly turned towards the desk, rushing to sit down, pretending that nothing had happened—that you didn’t almost kiss Jeno a few seconds back. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, eyes furious with a hint of daze in them. “Yeah?” His voice came out strained as he asked Jaehyun through the door. 

“Mom wants to talk to you,” He said.

“Be right down,” he answered, shaking his head, staring at your way one last time, holding eye contact for a second, letting you see just how much he hated this situation, veins popping in his neck.

Then he opened the door, closing it behind him and disappearing from your eyesight. 

You stayed there, overwhelmed, lips tingling, pulse racing. 

A truth burned your skin in an excruciating pain. 

If he had kissed you, you wouldn’t have stopped him. 

Chapter 6: I can go from A to Z, but U is what I want. 

Jeno hadn’t texted you all night. 

Not that you waited, except, you did. 

He never came back to the room after Jaehyun called him out, you waited, till you couldn’t anymore and had to rush out before your mind drove you to the edge of insanity. 

So you grabbed your bag, rushing to the first place you thought of—the courtyard behind the Science block. It was calm, no student in sight, thankfully. 

Your five minutes of calm ended a second too quickly, a voice calling out your name in its full glory. You cursed the universe for treating you like this and you didn’t have to turn around to figure out who it was.

Jaemin. 

“I gotta admit, I didn’t peg you to fall for the broken type.” He stepped out smiling as insane as a villain who hasn’t moved on does. 

“Still stalking me?” You rolled your eyes, “get a fucking job.”

“I call it being invested,” he smirked, shoving hands in his pockets, “it’s honestly a downgrade, going from me to Jeno.”

“Not again,” you muttered, grabbing your book which you had just taken out. 

“I mean, trading me for Jeno?” Voice full of pity. 

“As if you were an option, Jaemin,” you turned sharply. 

That shut him up for half a second.

“I just don’t get it,” he said, voice colder now. “He’s always angry, I was angry, I made you feel something, can he say the same?”

Your head was hurting by now, as you mumbled yet another shut up, only to be stopped by Jaemin as he grabbed your arm. 

“What? He’s the angry, tortured type. You’re into hopeless projects now?”

“I’m into honesty,” you snapped, “something you don’t offer.”

“What does he have that I don’t?”

“Self awareness maybe,” a voice came from behind you, low, cold, almost lethal. 

Jeno was here. 

“Let go of her,” he said, dead-eyed, he was ready to snap. 

And Jaemin did, a scoff leaving his mouth before he smirked, “great, speak of the devil.”

Jeno raised his brow, “you done?”

Jaemin chuckled, “not even close.”

You sighed, “of course not,” this day couldn’t get worse. 

“You really think this is love or whatever?” He said, looking at Jeno but his words were directed to you instead, “he’s gonna burn you someday, and you’re gonna let him.” 

Oh god, you were not having any of this, why was this conversation even happening? It made absolutely no sense. 

Jeno moved faster this time, but you blocked his chest with your arms, “enough,” you said sharply. 

“Ask him to leave.” Jeno said, voice low. 

“Jaemin, just leave,” you said, turning to him. 

But he didn’t, and so Jeno did, shoving past you as you rolled your eyes, Jaemin’s sinister smile only widening, getting so close to him, he had to lean back slightly. 

“Don’t test me, and don’t come near her again, or else I won’t be this patient.” Jeno spoke. 

“Aw? You’re gonna hit me in front of her, Jeno?”

“I don’t need to, she already cut you deeper than I ever could.” 

Jaemin blinked, clenching his jaw, before turning to you, maintaining eye contact, “she’s not your girl, Jeno.”

“You don’t know that,” he gritted his teeth. 

“You’ll come back,” Jaemin’s jaw ticked as he said so. 

“Hold your breath until I do,” you replied.

That was it, he left. It wasn’t silent, nor dramatic, but with enough tension to let you know that he will be coming back. 

Once he was gone, you shoved Jeno, hard. 

“The fuck was that?”

“What? I came here trying to find you, only to witness you talking to him.”

“I didn’t want it to happen either, but the world hates me,” you mumbled, grabbing your bag and walking away with Jeno following you behind. 

“I fucking hate that he still gets to talk to you, why does he have access to you?” His voice rose and you prayed no one would hear him, thankfully this area was empty. 

“He doesn’t, and why do you even care?” You asked, with distress clear on your face, “pretending like I mean something to you in front of Jaemin is just as worse, Jeno.” 

“I—”

“No, you won’t even talk about last night, as if it didn’t happen,” you snapped and he froze, “you didn’t even come back to your room.”

His silence was your answer, and you knew this conversation wasn’t gonna go any further, Jeno couldn’t do that—he was scared of opening up, and he was scared of answering those questions, so even though you were hurting on the inside, you let him be. 

“Tomorrow, library, at five. Be on time.” You mumbled, leaving him behind you. 

“Fuck—fuck!” Jeno punched the wall next to him. He didn’t want you to go—the first person who ever tried to understand him, took his side, defended him. He was beyond scared of letting his guard down, so he groaned, sliding down the wall. 

“How do I even tell you I want you?”

Chapter 7: I stayed, even when it was easier to run.

The library was too quiet for how loud your mind was. The sound of your pen dragging across the paper felt almost intrusive as you tried to finish your assignment. 

It had been three nights since the library fiasco. 

Two nights since the almost kiss. 

One night since the blow up with Jaemin.

You almost didn’t wish to come here, yet here you were, with the sample test papers ready, clad in your little black skirt, a cardigan too loose for you, waiting for Jeno to show up—hoping he would. 

The clock ticked. He was a solid nineteen minutes late now, another minute and you’ll get up to leave. That’s when you heard the lazy footsteps approaching your side, the farthest corner of the library. You expected him to sit in front of you, yet he opted to sit right next to you, so close you could feel the fabric of his jeans brushing against your thigh. He took a seat without permission, like he had the right to be, like nothing had happened. 

He came in like guilt personified, shoulders hunched, hoodie loose, hair an unbrushed mess of indecision. And when he saw you?

He hesitated.

You didn’t look up, simply sliding him the sheet of questions to solve, the air around you turned weighted. His pen scratched, your leg bounced, you sipped water and he watched the corner of your mouth, practically burning holes into you. 

It was unbearable. 

This tension—it’s not a war but there’s rarely ever any peace. Catherine and Heathcliff reincarnated, except you weren’t on a moor, you were in a library, trying not to fall apart across the wooden study table. 

Just yesterday, he burned through Jaemin like jealousy was oxygen. 

He couldn’t stop staring, yet he solved the questions for forty minutes, sliding the sheet back to you for checking, expecting some sort of conversation now, anything, even a little hum of acknowledgement from your side, but none of it happened. 

He watched you scribble your pen over the margin, circling a few things, ticking the others, lip bitten in concentration. He observed you so intensely, how your eyes flicked across his answer sheet, but you didn’t look his way, not even once. 

“You won’t even talk to me now?” He asked, keeping his voice in check. 

“Four answers wrong, you did pretty well, can do better still,” you mumbled, passing him the paper. 

“Y/N,” he sighed, tired, he was afraid of this happening—letting you down, and that’s exactly what he did. Running away from his problems was what Jeno always did, he wasn’t perfect, he knows it, but he wants to try and be better, better for you. 

“You came late,” you said, still not looking up. 

“I didn’t sleep last night,” he exhaled, jaw clenched. 

“Not my problem,” you retorted. 

“I was thinking.”

“You should study instead.”

“You hate me now, huh?” Jeno leaned forward, voice flat. 

You blinked. The question hit out of nowhere.

“I don’t hate you,” you replied carefully. “But I don’t know how to deal with you either.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No, Jeno. It’s the truth. And that’s more than you’ve been giving me.”

He looked at you then, really looked—eyes narrowed, jaw tight, like he was keeping a war behind his teeth. His eyes were empty, yet so full of you. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, quietly. “I don’t know how to be—good at this, with you.”

“And yet you’re good at disappearing. You’re good at leaving me hanging like none of it mattered.”

You weren’t yelling. You didn’t need to. Your disappointment was louder than any raised voice.

Jeno sat back in his chair, breathing shallow. “You kissed me back.”

Your throat tightened, “you didn’t kiss me at all.”

“Exactly,” he muttered. “Because I would’ve ruined it. Ruined you.”

You shook your head slowly. “No, Jeno. You didn’t kiss me because you’re scared of how much you want to.”

His hands balled into fists. “And you’re not?”

“We’re not talking about me.” You looked away. 

He scoffed, turning to look at you fully, leaning in with his hand now resting on your thigh, burning the skin with his touch. 

“You want honesty, huh? So here it is—I’ve been thinking about you, about everything that’s happened in the past few days, no one’s ever messed with my mind so much and it fucking scares me. You’re messing me up—”

You couldn’t hear more, not when he was so close, not when he poured his heart out to you. Nothing about you two was normal, even your heartbeat was synced with how abnormally high they were. 

“Shh,” you mumbled, covering his mouth with your palm, and even the rude gesture calmed him down—your touch calmed him down. 

“You have an exam tomorrow.” You said and he stared, “study, pass the exam, and we’ll talk, yeah?”

He blinked, almost as if you showed him mercy, and gave him a chance to do something, to prove that he’s worthy of being near you. His scholarship, football, future—everything was at stake, but did he care? No. He cared about not letting you down. He wanted to prove himself to you. 

“You—you promise?” He asked, gripping the extra sheets and notes you passed his way.

You nodded, eyes softer now. You didn’t wanna hurt Jeno, you could see just how hard he tried to fight with his demons, but this time, you wanted him to win.

“I’ll be waiting.” 

You turned to leave then, leaving Jeno with his thoughts as he watched you leave, eyes on your legs. He gulped, looking back to the paper to find a line scribbled in your handwriting. 

You already know the answer, you’re just afraid of getting it wrong. 

It wasn’t about the question, it was about him. 

He just wanted to be worthy enough to stand in front of you and say I didn’t fuck this up this time. So he started, he worked all night, solved as many sample problems as he could, everything felt like a punch in the gut but he couldn’t give up, not this time. 

Jeno couldn’t sleep at night, 

I’ll be waiting. 

That’s what you told him, and he was looking forward to it, because for the very first time in his life, someone wasn’t waiting for him to fail. 

He woke up before his alarm had the chance to ring, didn’t care about his mother’s remark on how he woke up on time for once, or how Jaehyun gave him a long, unreadable look. Jeno didn’t react, he had bigger problems to tackle today. 

You were just as restless as him if not more, checking your phone every few minutes as if you’d get any text from Jeno. He must be busy studying, you hope that was the case. 

He walked into the exam hall calm, focused, terrified. He didn’t skip questions. He didn’t zone out.

He solved the final problem two minutes before time and rechecked every line like his life was hidden in the margins.

When he walked out of that room, his shirt clinging to the back of his neck from sweat, his palms aching from gripping the pen too hard—he knew. He’d done it. Or at least, he hoped he did. 

Yet, he didn’t text you, he wouldn’t until he got the results. 

Chapter 8: Jealousy is but a red thread around my throat. 

You waited, not loud, but silently. 

Two whole days, you held your breath, even planned on visiting the football practice to just get a glimpse of Jeno, yet you couldn’t muster enough courage to do so. God, you were so affected by everything he did, and this felt so very suffocating, waiting on someone. You knew what you felt, there was no point in denying it, however, you couldn’t figure out how it happened, so quickly at that. 

Heck, even Jaemin was more present in your chat inbox, even though you never replied to him, it just made you wonder if your time with Jeno was just a hoax. 

Did you imagine it all? 

On the other hand, on the other side of the city, sitting in a dim room with sunlight pouring in, Jeno was drowning in darkness. 

The exam portal was open in front of him, he refreshed the page every two seconds, not being able to sit still. His hands were shaking, not from fear but from want.  From the feeling of your voice telling him that you’ll talk to him once he proves himself. 

He gave up the wait, the result wasn’t out the whole day. It was three in the morning when the notification woke him up like a jolt. 

Results were out. 

He rushed to check it, the numbers stunning him as his jaw hung open. 

83%

Not perfect. But more than enough.

Enough to pass. Enough to stay on the team.

Enough to say, Look. I did it. I’m not a fuck-up. The first thing he thought of was you. So he typed—just two words.

Jeno: I passed.

Because he didn’t know how to say what he really wanted to—I passed, and all I could think about was your voice. I passed, and I still don’t feel whole unless you tell me you’re proud. I passed, and it’s not enough if I can’t show you.

Your reply came back six minutes later.

You: I knew you would. 

It was soft, gentle. But was it enough for Jeno? No. It should’ve been enough, but it wasn’t. 

He didn’t reply, he didn’t text you again. He opted to skip the lectures for the day and stay in his room, blinds closed, only darkness consuming him. 

You knew it was hard for Jeno, you knew you shouldn’t wait for his reply or him approaching you—he was too scared to do that, which is exactly why you grabbed your bag and went to his place the first thing in the morning. Maybe Jeno needed time, but you had to check. 

You rang the bell, your heart pounding as you did so, expecting Jeno to open up and see you. Once the door opened, your pulse stuttered. 

Jaehyun. 

Of course, it had to be him. 

“Y/N,” he said your name smoothly, “didn’t know you were coming by.”

You hesitated with a small chuckle, exhaling the breath you were holding, “is Jeno home?” 

He nodded, stepping aside to let you in, “yeah, he’s in his room, didn’t come out this morning at all.”

“Oh,” you said softly, wondering if he was alright. 

There was a pause, an awkward silence after that, you felt heavy, wanting to go upstairs but you weren’t sure if you were allowed to. 

Jaehyun closed the door behind you. “He’s been off since the results,” he said, voice low. “I thought passing would help, but I don’t know. He kind of shut down again after telling us he passed.”

You gulped, chest tightened at the revelation. 

“I came to check up on him, I’m not sure if he wants to meet though.”

“He’d want to see you.” Jaehyun said, smiling sincerely, “you’re good for him.”

Your eyes widened at that, “I’m not sure he thinks that.” You tried to smile, “can I go to his room?”

“He locked the door, I think he’s sleeping,” Jaehyun said apologetically. 

“I don’t wanna bother him.” You smiled sadly, “those are good pictures,” you mumbled, looking at the wall full of frames, particularly the ones with Jeno in them.

“Yeah, I took most of those,” Jaehyun replied with another smile, he knew you wanted to talk to Jeno so he suggested something, “Maybe if you take him something to eat? I can give the breakfast he skipped—”

“Oh no, I can run to the bakery and get something—”

Then you noticed a movement in your peripheral vision, you turned around to find Jeno. He was standing down the hall, his fluffy hair a mess, eyes wide as if he didn’t expect you to be here—especially with Jaehyun. 

“Hey,” you breathed out. 

No reply. 

“Y—you didn’t reply, I came to see you,” you tried speaking again. 

However, his expression didn’t change and suddenly, you felt like you shouldn’t have come here at all. He was frozen even when you said you wanted to make sure he was okay. Then he came back to his senses, clearing his throat. 

Jaehyun left the room, letting you two be alone. 

“Why didn’t you ask for me?” He whispered, just sadness in his voice. 

“I did, that’s what I came for,” you tried to explain.

Jeno stared at you, he was so broken inside he couldn’t let himself believe it. You dressed up, all pretty, your eyes so soft, your lips turning into a pout of disappointment. You looked perfect, and you came here for Jeno? He just could not believe it. 

“You were talking to him,” Jeno said, referring to Jaehyun, his voice broken. 

“He opened the door, what can I do?” You shook your head, trying to explain, “you didn’t even text back, Jeno.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he replied, “I’ve never done this before. I’ve never had someone wait for me and mean it.”

Your lips parted to reply but he wasn’t done. 

“You said you’d talk to me after the exam,” he went on, voice sharper now, “but when you showed up, you let him open the door. You let him tell you how I was.”

“I didn’t—” your voice faltered, “I didn’t come for him.”

“Didn’t look that way.”

That hurt. You flinched. “Jeno, why are you doing this?” 

“Because I waited for you,” he snapped. “I sat in that room like a fucking idiot thinking you’d come to see me. Not make small talk with my brother or compliment his photography.”

“You heard that?” You froze, it wasn’t your intention to do any of that. 

“I heard everything, every second you spent without taking my name,” he said. 

Just like that—he hurt you. Every conversation was about Jeno, every single one. He just couldn’t see it. 

“I thought I was getting better,” he admitted, quieter now. “I thought passing the exam would mean something. That it would be enough.”

“It was,” you whispered. “Jeno, it is. I am proud of you.”

“Then why didn’t it feel like it?” His voice broke on that line. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a step away, then back, like his own body was a prison.

You stood frozen. Every word hit somewhere different.

“I wanted you to come,” he said, softer now. “Not to check in. Not to ask if I’d eaten. I wanted you to come for me. Just for me. You don’t get it, Y/N.”

“No,” you stepped forward. “You don’t get it. You think everything is about being chosen or abandoned. But not everyone’s trying to leave you, Jeno. Sometimes people show up. But you keep slamming the door in their face.”

He turned away. “Then go.”

“I came for you.” You said one last time, your eyes watering, not being able to contain the hurt you held in them. 

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have.”

That one landed like a punch.

Your mouth opened. Then closed. You nodded. Just once.

“Fine.”

You turned.

And you left.

And this time, he didn’t stop you.

Chapter 9: I know that I’m hard to read, but you got me here to stay 

You spent most of your morning crying alone in your student council room, but it just wasn’t enough, not when you were being wronged every second of the day, not when the person you wanted kept running away from you no matter how hard you tried. At least you did. 

You couldn’t run away though, you had an important meeting with your council at six in the evening, by that time, you had done everything to make yourself look normal again, but your mind was entirely elsewhere, in another realm, a realm where things were different. 

Jeno, on the other hand, left his room as soon as he realized how wrong everything had gone. All afternoon his own words replayed in his mind, how he asked you to leave and how you left a single tear drop on the floor before you turned around and left. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have.

It felt like biting into something rotten, saying that out loud to you. Like watching the one and the only thing he wanted turn and walk away. You didn’t yell back, you didn’t beg, you went still, and left. He saw you leave—he made you leave. 

And he let you go anyway. Because that’s what he did. Because pushing people away was easier than asking them to stay.

Until now.

Now he was pacing in his room like a caged animal, hoodie still damp, heart in his throat. He kept hearing your voice in the hallway. Kept seeing your face. Kept remembering the way you reached for him and he didn’t reach back.

His chest felt tight, his limbs tense. He couldn’t stay here, not in this house, not knowing you might never come back.

He had to find you.

So he ran. He ran to the courtyard, not caring about the rain pour, soaking him up from head to toe. You weren’t in the library, not in the council room, the classrooms were empty. He was panicking. 

That’s when he heard a voice, turning around the corner of the athletic department, he walked straight into one of his football teammates he couldn’t stand at all—Minjae, a loud-mouthed asshole, smiling like a madman. 

“Fucking hell, Lee Jeno, you look like shit.” He grinned. 

Jeno didn’t answer, he was in a hurry, he had to find you, to make things right with you, he was about to push past Minjae when—

“Oh, by the way,” he smirked, “Jaemin told us a lot about how you finally landed his ex, the pretty goody two shoes, Y/N.”

Jeno froze, jaw clenched at the mention of you and Jaemin in the same sentence, coming from an asshole at that. 

“Didn’t think you’d have a go at someone like her. She seems to like guys who have more brains than biceps.” He laughed at his own joke. 

“The fuck did you just say?” 

Minjae laughed. “Chill, man. I’m just saying—props to you, seriously. Girl like that? All polished and pretty and loyal? I mean, not that it’ll last. Girls like that don’t stay with guys like us. She’ll figure it out eventually.”

Jeno’s vision turned black.

“Say that again,” he said, voice like static.

Minjae raised his hands. “Relax. You don’t need to get all—”

The punch landed before he could finish.

Minjae hit the ground hard, water splashing up from the impact, the rain pouring down heavier now. He tried to shove Jeno back, but to no avail as he bent down, his fist colliding with Minjae’s jaw again.  

Jeno wasn’t fighting Minjae per se, he was fighting every single voice that told him he wasn’t enough, that he could never live up to his brother, that he could never be with someone as perfect as you. That’s what he believed too, till you actually became real for him. 

His mind was elsewhere when he took a blow to his jaw, lip bleeding now, Jeno stumbled but scoffed before punching him again, and again, till his knuckles were shredded, a throbbing in his jaw which almost felt like fire. 

It was only when someone pulled him off of Minjae, Jeno stopped, spitting out blood in the rain slick grass. Everything hurt, but not as much as his burning chest. 

“Are you insane?” Someone yelled his way, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jeno didn’t bother answering, pulling out his phone and rushing away, typing out texts to you. 

Jeno: where are you? please say something i’m so fucking sorry Y/N i didn’t mean it  i didn’t mean any of it i swear Y/N please 

No response. His messages were just there, unread, and unanswered. He simply didn’t know why. 

He didn’t know how you had been in the private meeting room for the past hour, student council prep being a whole scheduling disaster, handling arguments about clubs and their out-of-the-worldly budget demands. 

You were half awake at best, distracted by the storm that brewed outside. Your phone vibrates once, then again, and when you finally pull it out to check the numerous missed calls—your screen goes dark. Perfect, just on the day you didn’t bring your charger or powerbank. 

The feeling in your gut—it wasn’t good, which is why you excused yourself mid meeting, something you never do, to rush back home. You were soaked as you ran to your apartment, close to the University, thankfully. You plugged your phone in to charge as you rushed to take a shower, hoping the hot water would soothe your nerves. It didn’t. 

You kept thinking about Jeno, about the fight at his place earlier, how he asked you to leave with the saddest look in his eyes, and how badly it hurt you. You were out of the shower in fifteen minutes, toweling your hair with one hand and rushing to check your phone with the other, not expecting a myriad of notifications. 

17 Missed calls. 

6 Voicemails. 

26 Unread texts. 

The last of which made your blood run cold. 

Jeno: Y/N please  i’m outside 

You rushed to the front door, and he was there—leaning against the wall beside your entrance, hoodie clinging to him, hair wet and plastered to his forehead, eyes closed and him wincing like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Like it hurts too much to exist. Hands bruised, lip split, and he opened his eyes—bloodshot, glassy. 

“Jeno,” you gasped out loud, “w—what happened?” You said, going close to him. 

“I tried to find you,” he said, voice wrecked, “I tried but I couldn’t, I thought that maybe you blocked me.”

“No—I was in a meeting and my phone died, god I’m so sorry—fuck, come inside.” You shook your head in distress.

“Y/N,” he groaned, and you gently helped him when he didn’t move, like he wasn’t allowed to, “I fucked up.”

“Shh, come inside, it’s cold,” you whispered and he nodded after a moment of hesitation. You tried to be calm, you tried to take control of the situation for once and he listened, this time he did when you took him to your room. 

You didn’t ask how this happened to him, only guiding him to the bathroom, “you’re soaked and bleeding, take a shower, i’ll put your clothes in the wash and dryer.”

He opened his mouth to say otherwise, but you didn’t let him, grabbing a fresh towel and handing it to him. 

“Are you sure you want me here?” He asked, vulnerable. 

“I wouldn’t have opened the door otherwise, Jeno, I do.”

He nodded, swallowing hard as he disappeared into the bathroom without another word and you worked your washing machine and dryer, sitting down right after, exhaling and letting your guard down, hands shaking with worry. 

You were glad Jeno was taking his sweet time inside, because you had no clue how to go on with this situation. Jeno stalling coming out simply because he was ashamed, also consumed in how good your shampoo smells. He was at your place, in your bathroom, all bloodied up, why? Because he couldn’t be normal for once and let you in. 

His walls came crashing down each time you came closer to him, but this time, he didn’t want them to go back up the second he touched you, this time, he wanted you inside with him. 

His clothes were dry very soon and you kept them in your room, waiting outside by the sofa, letting him come out all dressed up. The water stopped soon, the door creaking as he came out, and you were sitting on the sofa, hair still wet. 

Then Jeno opened the door, you stood up at the noise, and he looked your way in a silent plea to ask you if he could sit next to you, and you nodded. He held up the bloodied towel, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and you smiled softly, taking it away from him. 

The silence was too loud after as you both sat next to each other, you waited for him to say something, waited for the reality of tonight to settle in—to make sense, to stop trembling beneath your skin. And then he spoke as you took out your medicine kit, gently grabbing his hand to take a look at his bruised knuckles. 

“Y/N,” he took your name as if it was the only thing he knew. 

He watched you kneel in front of him, your eyes not angry, just steady, quiet, and unbearably kind. His fingers trembled in yours, you gently pulled the sleeve back, pressing a warm damp cloth to the wounds, making him wince slightly at the contact. 

“Sorry,” you breathed out. 

“I deserve worse,” he breathed back. 

“No, you don’t,” you said, looking up at him. 

He laughed under his breath, “why are you so kind to me? I don’t deserve it, Y/N.”

“You don’t get to decide what I give you, Jeno,” you replied, “you’re bleeding, again.”

“Not my first time.”

You gripped him tighter, “and that’s supposed to make it better?”

“No,” he said, voice low, “just means I’m good at it by now.”

You didn’t answer. Just ripped the antiseptic packet open a little more forcefully than necessary and pressed it to the bruised line of his knuckles. He flinched.

“Good,” you muttered. “Means you still feel something.”

“God, Y/N—”

“No,” you snapped, trying your best to act normal but you both were far from that, “not yet.”

You cleaned the split in his skin with the kind of precision that only comes from anger—controlled, careful, but deeply furious.

“You don’t get to act like none of this mattered,” you said, eyes locked on his wounds. “You don’t get to disappear into your guilt and then show up bleeding and say I didn’t know where else to go. That’s not enough.”

His jaw clenched. “I didn’t come for a reward.”

“Good,” you said coldly. “Because you’re not getting one.” You wrapped gauze around his hand slowly, tight enough that it would sting.

He didn’t pull away.

“I came because I thought I’d lose you,” he said through his teeth, “I came because I’m fucking terrified that I already did.”

“Who’s fault is that?” You said, standing up, “you keep doing this thing, you pull me in, let me see you and then the very second it gets real, you shut the door in my face.”

“I know,” he said. Loud. Frustrated. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see the way you look at me when I say the wrong thing? Like you’re trying so fucking hard not to walk away?”

“You told me to go!”

“I didn’t mean it!”

“Then don’t say it!” You shouted, “don’t look at me like I’m everything one second and then act like I mean nothing the next!”

“I didn’t think you’d stay.”

“I stayed!”

You were both breathing hard now. Staring at each other like you didn’t know whether to cry or kiss or throw something, You still stood in between Jeno’s legs, him looking up at you.  Jeno ran a hand through his damp hair, pacing a few feet before turning back to you, eyes wide and glassy.

“I ruin things,” he said, “I always have. I don’t know how to love something without fucking it up. But I wanted you anyway—I still do.”

Your throat tightened. “And I’m supposed to what? Carry all of that? Be your exception?”

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I just need you to see that I’m trying. Even if it’s ugly. Even if I’m bleeding and loud and afraid. I need you to see me, and stay anyway.”

You stared at him.

He looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days. Someone who’d gone through hell and walked straight into another fire because you were at the center of it.

Your voice cracked, “you don’t make it easy.”

“I know.”

You looked down at your hands—his blood still faintly on your fingertips. He reached out slowly. You didn’t move. Not when his fingers curled around your wrist. Not when he pulled you in his lap, not when his forehead leaned into yours like he was holding on for dear life.

“I hate that I hurt you,” he whispered. “But I’d rather burn with you than freeze without you.”

“I wasn’t gonna leave, Jeno.”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because I’m sick,” he said suddenly. “Sick of being the one who’s always too much. Too angry. Too wrong. I get one thing right—one fucking exam—and even then I screw it up by throwing a punch at someone who talks shit about you and then picking a fight with the only person who’s ever actually looked at me like I could be more.”

Your breath hitched. You grabbed the gauze, wrapped it around his hand. Tighter than needed.

“Then be more, Jeno.”

He stared at you.

“Be more,” you repeated, “because I’m tired of being in love with someone who’s so determined to hate himself.”

That silenced him. Fully. Until he spoke again.

“You’re in love with me?”

The words dropped like a bomb between you.

You froze. Swallowed. Refused to take it back, chuckling to yourself at how easily you let go and told him that, “yeah—god help me, I am.”

Then you tried to move back, only his arms wrapped around your waist tighter, holding you in place, “you don’t get to say that and walk away.” He growled. 

“Who said I’m walking away?” You mumbled, holding onto his shoulder for support. 

It was unreal, how close you guys were but still not close enough, it was never enough. 

“You’re mad at me,” Jeno stated. 

“I should be mad.” 

“I’m mad too,” he added. 

“Good,” you rolled your eyes, trying to move again.

But he didn’t let you, not this time, his thumb brushing your cheek. 

That was it. That was when Jeno finally let go. He couldn’t delay this anymore, not again, not when you were right in front of him, not when your soft lips brushed so tenderly against his bruised ones, not when you told him you were in love with him—not when he knew he had to have you. 

He surged up and into you—hands gripping your face, mouth pressing against yours like it was the only way to breathe. It wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t neat, it was everything you’d been holding back.

Lips slotted together, you could taste blood on your tongue from where he was hurt before, which only made you groan into the kiss, he was frustrated, so frustrated, not having it in him to let go for even a second. 

You gasped, arms flying up to clutch at his shoulders, pressed chest-to-chest, his body was warm—too warm—and you could feel his tension in every line.

You broke the kiss first, panting, eyes wide. “You shouldn’t—” you tried to say, especially when his body was hurting. 

“I have to,” he breathed, leaning in again. “Let me, just once. Please.”

You didn’t stop him, grabbing his nape and pulling him into you once again, because when Jeno kissed you again, it felt like pain, penance, and pleasure all in one. It was as if he was trying to earn your forgiveness with his mouth, trying to pour out everything he couldn’t say to you, groaning into your mouth when your hips shifted over his lap. 

“I fucking—” He said midway the kiss, “god I—”

You shushed him gently, “you don’t have to say it.”

“I love you,” he breathed out, forehead pressed against yours, eyes earnest and full of life for the first time since you saw him, “I don’t care if it’s too early, I can’t fucking not say it, I love you, I—”

Before he could ruin the moment with the spiral in his throat, before he could pull back in fear, you pressed your lips against his like it was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

He responded like he’d been starving. Mouth hot, desperate, hands gripping your waist like the world was falling apart and he only had seconds left to memorize you. The kiss was brutal in the way it made you feel, there was no choreography to it, no elegance—just lips, teeth, breath, and aching hunger.

His mouth was swollen. Your lips, bruised from how much he kissed you like he didn’t know how to stop.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed.

You stared at him. “I don’t want you to.”

Then you grabbed his jaw once you heard him wince, “does it hurt?” You asked, pecking his jaw, trailing kisses all over. 

“It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt,” he whispered, letting your lips take over, tracing every bit of his face and neck, his eyes closing with the fire that you ignited within him. 

“This feels like a dream,” he whispered.

“It’s not.”

“But it could be,” he added, almost to himself. “You—like this, in my lap, in your apartment, touching me like I’m not a monster.”

You cupped his face again, guiding his eyes to yours, “you’re not a monster, Jeno.”

“You don’t know the things I’ve thought.”

“Then tell me.”

His voice cracked, “I thought I’d die if I didn’t see you again. I thought that maybe I’m already ruined and maybe I don’t deserve you but I can’t stop loving you anyway. I thought—”

You kissed him again. Slow this time. Deep and aching, “then stop thinking,” you whispered, “just be here—with me.”

His fingers trembled as they curled into the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?”

You nodded.

He pulled the fabric up carefully, reverently, and you helped him, raising your arms until it was off. His breath hitched. Not because of how you looked—but because he was looking at you like that.

Like something sacred.

You grabbed the back of his hoodie, tugging. He hesitated for a split second before pulling it over his head. The sight made your breath catch.

His torso was littered with bruises, some dark purple, some fading yellow. His ribcage dipped where the muscle was taut with tension. You reached out, fingertips grazing over a particularly harsh mark near his side.

He flinched. “That one’s from earlier.”

Your jaw clenched, “you shouldn’t fight because of me.”

“I wasn’t,” he said, “I was fighting every voice in my head that said I wasn’t worth your love.”

You kissed the bruise.

He gasped.

“I hate that they ever made you feel like that.”

His hands slid back up to your sides, lips brushing your jaw. “You make it go quiet.”

“I want to,” you whispered.

Your kisses grew slow again, heavier with emotion than desire. You could feel his heartbeat where your chest pressed into his, your hands in his hair, his head tilted just enough to deepen the kiss. You rolled your hips slightly in his lap, and he groaned again, burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck, Y/N—”

“Jeno,” you murmured, your nails dragging softly along his back, “look at me.”

He lifted his head. His eyes—wild, glassy, full of everything he couldn’t say.

“I love you,” you said again. “I’m not afraid of it. So don’t be either.”

He leaned forward, pressing your foreheads together. 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“You’re so fucking pretty, did I ever tell you that?” He mumbled against the skin of your neck, brushing his lips all over before placing open mouthed kisses over the expanse of your clavicle, “so fucking pretty.”

Jeno wasn’t gentle anymore, not when he’d been craving your presence, craving you. He couldn’t help but treat you like a reward, like he finally had won the only thing in life that actually mattered to him. 

He was quick to grab your waist and flip you over, getting on top of you on the couch that was too small for things he had planned in his mind. It was almost like a dam breaking the way his mouth was on your neck, biting, sucking, claiming you. 

“Jeno—” you mumbled, your back arching as you felt his body pressing into you, fingers wrapped around his wet locks as he marked your skin with every ounce of desperation he had, his fingers mapping out every inch of your body as if he’s afraid he’d forget it—as if he could ever forget anything about you. 

The warmth of his hands brushed over your bra clad nipples, a whimper leaving your mouth. Jeno wasn’t undressed yet you could feel him getting hard, and god you wondered just how big he was, grinding into you as if he was already inside your cunt. 

“I hurt you so fucking much,” Jeno mumbled, lips ghosting over your tit, “now I’ll hurt you in the way you want me to,” he said with dark eyes, yanking your bra down enough for your nipples to show, latching his mouth to you all in light speed. 

All his life Jeno couldn’t take control of anything, but seeing you shiver under him just made sense to Jeno, he had to take control—he had to make you feel so good, you wouldn’t ever look at anyone else. 

“You’re fucking crazy,” you whispered, already disheveled with how needy you were, wetness pooling in your panties, soiling the new pair you had put on not too long ago. 

“Yeah? You drive me crazy, baby,” he chuckled, and that sound went straight to your pussy. Jeno was hot, so fucking hot, but him using nicknames on you with his deep tone—only god knows how you would survive this. 

You bit your lip to conceal your moans, which only infuriated Jeno, biting your nipple harshly to make sure you scream, “don’t fucking hide your pretty voice,” he said. 

His hands went to your other breast and he gave it a tight squeeze, your eyes were on him as you watched his lips parting, letting his tongue make contact with the tip of your very hardened nub. He bites down on your nipple, making you cry out, but quickly soothes it with his tongue before switching to the other side, he wants to drive you wild with pleasure, to possess every inch of your body.

Lost in the haze of pleasure, you surrender yourself completely to Jeno’s possessive touches, letting him have his way with you. The room fills with the sounds of your moans and his desperate sucking, a symphony of carnal desire. In this moment, there is nothing but you and Jeno, and the burning hunger that consumes you both. 

Jeno’s hands roam across your body, his touch electric against your skin. He grabs your hips, pulling you flush against him as he claims your lips in yet another searing kiss, tongue delving into your mouth, hot and hungry, making you more hungry for his touch—for him. 

“I—can’t,” you whimpered, wanting more of him. 

Jeno chuckled, “can’t even speak now, hm? What happened to the feisty lil’ girl who couldn’t shut up?” 

“Fuck, shut up,” you mumbled, tugging on his hair harder, which only made him groan and squeeze your tits harder, coming up to brush his lips against yours, hot breaths intertwining as he smirks, hand travelling down your body, very close to the hem of your shorts. 

“Want me to shut up?” He asked, squeezing your neck with slight pressure, your mouth opening in a gasp—he took the opportunity to spit in your mouth, watching your eyes widen as watches you gulp it down, “good fucking girl,” he mumbles. 

You were too gone to function anymore and you had just started, but you knew one thing—whatever Jeno wanted, you’d let him do it to you. 

That man was no less than a Greek god with how sharp his features looked, especially in the dim light of the room, muscles flexing, abs on full display as he held himself up on top of you to press kisses all over. 

In a swift second, he pulled you up to unclasp your bra, throwing it away somewhere to continue pressing hot mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts, and down your tummy, caressing it with the pad of his thumb, spending a good few seconds covering the expanse of your skin. 

You breathed harder once he reached the waistband of your shorts, his hooded eyes, almost drunk, looking up at you before he swiftly pulled them down, throwing them on the floor somewhere.

He couldn’t be gentle even if he tried, not when he was this thirsty, holding your legs open as he settled in the limited space that the couch held for him. Madman—that’s what he was and you couldn’t help but moan when he got closer to your panty clad cunt, burying his nose in the wet fabric, sniffing the scent of your arousal, groaning as he locked your thighs under his arms, which flexed harder now. 

You moaned his name as if a broken record repeating the same thing over and over again and he only mumbled things you couldn’t hear in your cunt, licking the already wet cloth, biting his lip at the first taste of you, “fuck—you’re so fucking perfect,” he says licking you harder, kissing your inner thighs alongside, leaving bites all over—he was feral. 

He slid your panties to the side, and the sight he had in front of him drove him to the edge. Jeno was an impatient man, yes, he was messy, he was not the softest, but seeing you like this just made him realize how much crazier he could be. 

That first taste emboldens him and he dives in like a man starved, lapping at your folds like he’s trying to consume you entirely. 

His desperate tongue delves deep inside, fucking you with rapid strokes and curling to hit your sweet spot. You cry out sharply at the intense sensation, fingers tangling in his tousled raven hair to hold him in place. He grips your thighs tightly, holding you down and open for his onslaught as he devours you. 

Jeno zeroes in on your clit, flicking and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves rapidly. Your back arches off the couch as he suckles hard on the throbbing bud, two fingers pumping inside your clenching hole.

“Fuck—Jeno, I’m gonna cum!” You wail, thighs trembling violently around his head as your climax approaches rapidly. He doubles his efforts, fucking you harder with his fingers and lashing your clit mercilessly with his tongue.

He curls his fingers to stroke your G-spot with every thrust, drawing out more of your copious arousal to lap up greedily. Your walls start to flutter and clench around him as the pressure builds unbearably.

 Jeno chuckled, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. “You like that, baby?” He practically purred, before sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. 

“Fuck—yes,” you gasped, your head falling back against the couch. Jeno was relentless, his tongue exploring every inch of you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, your thighs trembling as you stared at the ceiling with your mouth open, desperate for air. 

Jeno pulled back for a moment, looking up at you with a wicked grin, “you want more, kitten?” He teased, running a finger along your slit, “go on then, beg for it.”

You groaned in frustration, but you were too far gone to care, “please, Jeno,” you begged, fueling his ego. 

“Shhh, be a good lil’ kitten for me, yeah?” He mumbled into your core mindlessly, sending shivers up your spine as your thighs shake. He didn’t stop, but just when your ecstasy was about to crash—

He stopped. 

You let out a frustrated groan and Jeno only got up with the essence of you sprawled over his chin, his hard on begging to be freed. 

“Fuck?” You asked, trying to get up on your elbows, looking at him incredulously. 

He only gave you a once over, tongue poking his cheek from inside before he came closer, swooping you up in his arms easily as you yelped, eyes wide as he carried you to the bedroom, “no patience, huh?” He asked. 

He was proud of himself for making you this weak, for cracking your high wall down so he could see you, so he could ruin you. Jeno was possessive, especially after knowing what you and Jaemin went through, he wanted you to have the best, and he was willing to be the best for you. 

“I—I was gonna cum!” You said, holding on to him for support.

“Did I say you could?” He replied smoothly. 

“What—Jeno what the fuck?” You whined and he only chuckled.

“Be patient, love, or else you won’t be coming all fucking night, yeah?” He said as he let you get down on the bed. 

You looked so innocent, eyes watery, hair messy, looking up at him like an angry little kitten trying to look tough. He climbed the bed and you moved back, till your back hit the headboard and he hovered above you, caressing your cheek as he cupped your jaw, tilting your head up to look him in his eye. Your heartbeat speeding up yet again, and good lord you loved being manhandled by Jeno. 

“What are you thinking?” He asked, thumb pushing on your lower lip. 

“Nothing.” You mumbled. 

He leaned in closer, “not thinking of my cock inside your pretty little cunt, hm?” He asks, watching you shiver at the thought, “by the time I'm done with you, you’ll be begging me to let you cum.”

Your jaw clenched as you slide your hand up Jeno’s torso, tracing all the way from his abs to his neck, his own body reacting to your touch, cock twitching inside his pants by the time your hand rested on his nape, pulling him even closer so your noses were touching. 

“You know, Jeno, you talk big game. Don’t make promises you can’t back up,” you mumbled to rile him up. 

Jeno’s eyes flashed with a mixture of lust and irritation at your challenge, “oh, you’re going to regret those words,” he whispered, his hands gripping your hips possessively. “I’m going to make you beg for my cock, baby.”

He punctuated his statement with a sharp thrust of his fingers, two of them plunging deep into your sopping wet pussy. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he worked them in and out, stroking along your sensitive walls.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he panted, his thumb rubbing firm circles on your clit. “I can’t wait to feel this perfect little cunt wrapped around my cock.”

You moaned, your hips rolling to meet his hand as he fucked you with his fingers. “Then stop talking and do something about it,” you shot back, your voice breathy with desire.

Jeno chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers only to bring them to his mouth. He sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours as he savored your taste. “Mmh—delicious,” he purred, “but I’m not done playing with you yet.”

Before you could protest, he was pushing your thighs apart and settling between them. His tongue delved into your folds, lapping at your arousal like a man starved. You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he devoured your pussy with single-minded intensity.

He worked you over mercilessly, his tongue and lips and teeth finding all the right spots to drive you wild. You bucked against his face, your thighs trembling as the pleasure built inside you. Just when you thought you might burst, Jeno would back off, leaving you desperate and aching for release.

“Jeno, please,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair in a futile attempt to guide him back to where you needed him most, “I need to cum. Please let me cum.”

He lifted his head, his chin glistening as he looked up at you. “Not yet,” he shook his head, his fingers continuing their maddeningly slow circles on your clit, “I want to hear you scream first.”

“I fucking can’t!” You breathed out, trying to control your moans again, “someone’s gonna hear and���ah—complain about it,” you said, which only made him scoff. 

“Is that it, hm? Have it your way then, princess,” he mumbled, yanking your soiled panties down all the way, balling it up in his first to make a gag out of it and shoving it down your mouth, “now you can scream all your want, Y/N.” He said, taking your name in his deep voice. 

And if you weren’t crazy before, now you had reached your limit of madness, even a poke from his side was like a pleasant burning wound to your skin, his actions also made you realize just how hungry Jeno was for being the one in control. 

You squirmed beneath Jeno, feeling utterly at his mercy as he continued his torturous teasing. The gag in your mouth muffled your moans but couldn’t silence them completely, much to Jeno’s enjoyment. Your body arched, yearning for more, desperate for release.

“Such a needy lil’ thing, aren’t you?” Jeno growled, his fingers still circling your sensitive bud, “I can feel how wet you are, taste how wet you are, dripping for me, hm?”

His words made you clench, fresh arousal coating his fingers. He gathered some of your slickness and slowly dragged it up to your throbbing clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. Your hips bucked up in hopes of seeking more contact.

“Hm—so responsive,” Jeno purred, looking pleased with himself, “I could do this all night—keep you on the edge, begging so desperately for me.”

“Please—” you tried to say around the gag, your eyes pleading, you were so close, teetering on the brink of an explosive climax. Just a little more.

But Jeno seemed determined to deny you that satisfaction, easing off right as you were about to fall over into your state of euphoria, frustration bubbled up inside you, mingling with the overwhelming lust coursing through your veins.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, baby,” Jeno taunted, nipping at your inner thigh, “I want to hear you scream my name—let everyone know who you belong to.”

His fingers circled, feather-light touches that drove you wild with need. You thrashed beneath him, incoherent noises of desperation spilling from your lips. Jeno just chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your plight, removing your gag to hear you gasp loudly, his name on the tip of your tongue. 

Jeno was cruel, so cruel the way he denied your orgasm yet again with a smirk playing on his face, a whole one eighty from how he was an hour back and you were crying by now, something he seemed to enjoy too as he licked your face, tasting the salty teardrop you let out, “this makes me wanna ruin you more, y’know?” 

“Fuck—Jeno, let me cum please,” you sobbed as he took you in his arms. 

“You wanna cum, hm?” He asked as you settled on his lap, his hard on pressing against your thigh as you nodded, “fuck, you look so pretty crying like that for me, like a doll, a doll for me to use, hm?”

You couldn’t take it anymore, getting off and undoing his pant buttons as he watched you with amusement how you struggled to take off his pants and boxers, only to find his cock waiting for you, hard and proud. 

Jeno’s cock was throbbing, hard and ready to burst, as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip in a teasing manner. You could taste the salty beads of precum leaking from his slit, the flavor sending a jolt of desire straight to your core.

“Fuck—baby,” Jeno groaned, his fingers threading through your hair as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper into your throat. “Your mouth feels so good. Keep going just like that, good girl.”

You moaned around his length, the vibrations making him shudder. Your own arousal was dripping down your thighs, coating them with your slick essence. The wet sounds of your slurping filled the room, mingling with Jeno’s heavy breaths and grunts of pleasure.

“Shit—fuck, take it easy, I won’t be able to hold back," he panted, his grip on your hair tightening, “I’m gonna fucking come down your throat if you keep sucking me like that.”

You redoubled your efforts, eager to taste his release. Your tongue flattened against the underside of his shaft as you sucked harder, determined to milk him of every last drop. Just as you felt him start to swell, signaling his impending orgasm, you pulled away with a pop.

Jeno’s eyes jolted open, a mix of confusion and frustration flashing across his face. “What the fuck, baby? Why the fuck did you stop?”

You just smiled coyly up at him, licking your lips. “Because I want you to come inside me. I want to feel you fill me up with your hot cum, or are you too much of a coward to fuck me?” You teased, your grin making him scoff. 

God he loved you. 

Jeno growled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. In a flash, he grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your side, your back pressed firmly against his torso. 

Before you could even process the sudden change in position, he was lined up at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging your slick folds.

“Teasing me will only get you punished,” he warned, his voice low and husky with desire. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”

With that promise, he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching as he filled you completely. Jeno set a brutal pace, pounding into you with wild abandon.

You let out a sharp cry as Jeno’s thick cock stretched you open, filling you so deeply that you could feel him bulging through your lower abdomen. The feeling of his hard length pulsing inside you sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you arch your back and press your ass against him.

“Lord—ah yes,” you gasped, grinding against him, “you’re—so fucking big.”

Jeno grunted in response, his fingers digging into your hips as he continued to pound into you at a furious pace. The sounds of skin slapping against skin and your needy moans filled the room, mixing with the creaking of the bed frame beneath you.

“Shit, your cunt is so tight,” Jeno mumbled, his breath hot against your neck. “Squeezing my cock like a desperate doll—you were made for me, baby. Made to take my dick and milk me dry.”

His filthy words only heightened your arousal, making you clench even tighter around him. You could feel your orgasm building again, the tension coiling in your core as he hit that special spot deep inside you with each thrust.

“Please don’t stop, not this time,” you pleaded, your nails digging into his thighs. “Fuck me harder, Jeno. I’m so fucking close.”

He was quick to flip you over again so you were resting on your back, his hips settling in between you as he held your thighs up, your legs resting on both his shoulders with ease as he snapped into you harder, plunging his cock with more need, as if he was a monster hungry for lust and only lust.

Jeno snarled, his hips snapping forward with a newfound vigor. One hand moved around to rub firm circles around your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body began to tremble, your breath coming out in short gasps as you found yourself on the brink of ecstasy.

“Cum for me,” Jeno demanded, pinching your clit hard, “I want to feel you cum all over my dick, baby.”

With a scream of his name, you practically exploded, your pussy clamping down around him like a vice as your orgasm crashed over you. Your body convulsed, your back bowing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed through you, which shocked Jeno because you weren’t just having an orgasm. 

You were squirting all over his cock. 

Jeno followed shortly after, his cock pulsing as he spilled his release deep inside you, as he breathed hard, watching you with surprised eyes.

“Fuck,” he groaned, grinding against you to prolong your shared climax, “you’re so fucking hot, so fucking mine.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his hot cum painting your walls, the sensation making your pussy flutter around his shaft. Jeno held you close as you both rode out the aftershocks, his softening cock still buried inside you.

“You’re mine,” he mumbled, “say it.”

“Yours—I’m yours,” you breathed as best as you could. 

“Again.”

“I’m yours, Jeno.”

“Fuck—again.”

“So so fucking yours, I’m all yours Jeno.”

“Mine,” he whispered, so possessive. 

After a few moments, Jeno carefully pulled out and rolled you onto your back. He pressed gentle kisses along your jawline and down your neck, his touch soothing and tender in contrast to the rough passion from moments before.

“That was intense,” he murmured, nuzzling against your collarbone, “I don’t think i’ll ever get enough of you, baby. You’re fucking addictive.”

You smiled up at him, reaching up to cup his face. "I could say the same about you. The way you fuck me, it’s like you’re a fucking beast.”

“Was I too harsh?” He asked, placing soft kisses all over, “I’m sorry I just lost control—you have no idea how badly I need you, I don’t think I can stop,” he confessed. 

You kissed him again, “then don’t stop, just don’t.”

That’s all he needed to hear for the night, that you were finally his, and he was yours. He smirked, the night was just getting started. 

Chapter 10: Hate me less? You love me more. 

You don’t remember how the night ended, not when Jeno kept his promise of how you wouldn’t be able to walk anymore once he was done with you, and he was precise about it. He was far from done when he made you fall apart on his cock so many times, you lost count. 

It was a crazy switch up once you both were done, he took care of you, almost like he was made for it, helping you clean up in little bathtub which was definitely too small to fit the both of you, yet he helped you bath, a faint blush on his face as you laughed once he tried to act sly, touching you again when you were so sensitive and overstimulated. 

Turns out, Jeno can be super clingy when he has to be, also not letting you go once you get out of the tub, helping you dry your hair, helping you moisturize your body, helping you smile by kissing you every few seconds. 

He held you to sleep, not before hearing you say you actually want him and it’s not a dream. Jeno doesn’t remember if he ever felt this way before, this warmth called happiness that you provided him so easily. 

“I love you,” he mumbled to your sleeping figure, he was whipped, already thinking of your future together. Yeah, maybe it all happened too quickly, he still wouldn’t have it any other way. He wouldn’t mind getting through all the hurt again if it meant that he’d wake up to you sleeping next to him—to you loving him. 

It was perhaps the best day of Jeno’s life. 

The air felt different today.

Not because of the weather, which was finally warm and breezy after days of storm and stress, but because Jeno was walking beside you—not behind, not ahead—beside you. His fingers were laced with yours, his thumb brushing over your skin every few steps like he was still checking if this was real, he still couldn’t believe it. 

It was.

You passed the main quad slowly, in no rush. The two of you didn’t need to say much. Conversations dimmed as you walked through. You could feel the glances, the whispers.

Someone definitely said your name. Then his.

And then, clear as day, they whispered. 

“Wait—are they actually holding hands?”

Jeno didn’t flinch.

Not like he would’ve, weeks ago. Not like the boy who couldn’t stand being seen, being known. Instead, he just grabbed your hand a little tighter—casual, sure, and completely unbothered. His expression said it all—Yeah, and?

You chuckled. “Think they’re combusting?”

“Oh, definitely,” he said, tugging you closer with a smugness he barely bothered to hide anymore. “Especially that one girl who’s walking with me, who swore she’d never even look at me.”

“She wasn’t entirely wrong,” you teased. “You were kind of a menace.”

He groaned, tossing his head back, “were?”

You laughed, and it made him smile, soft and full, the kind of smile he used to hide and now gave you freely.

“You’re doing that look again,” he said, side-eyeing you. “Like you’re psychoanalyzing me.”

“Maybe I am. Can’t help it. You’re a walking dissertation, y’know?”

“Yeah? What’s the title?”

You looked up at him with a shrug. “How to fall for someone you’re supposed to hate.”

That made him stop walking.

You blinked, startled, but he was already turning to face you, his hoodie sleeves pushed up just enough to show the fading bruises on his knuckles—old reminders of the version of him you never gave up on.

“I’m glad you did,” he said. “Fall for me. Even when I made it so damn hard.”

You smiled slowly, the kind of smile that made his breath catch. “You still do.”

“Yeah, well,” he squeezed your hand, “at least I’m hot.”

You were too busy rolling your eyes to realize you’d just walked past Jaemin and his friends until the entire bench went awkwardly quiet. Jaemin looked up, eyes flicking from your joined hands to your face, and then to Jeno—who didn’t even spare him a glance.

He was too focused on you. Too content stealing a bite of your ice cream like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Let’s go,” you muttered, trying not to laugh as you nudged him forward.

Jeno followed. No hesitation.

Because this, the hand holding, the quiet teasing, the stares that didn’t matter anymore, this was normal.

And for the first time in his life, Jeno finally understood: Normal didn’t mean boring.

It meant chosen. It meant enough.

It meant being yours.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[n0rmal-cat]

idk why im so curious but i just need to know how the aliens would react to reader getting their period! did it maybe go away in space for whatever reason, or do they just understand it?

thank you as they’re all very fun to read *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Alien x pet readers- what’s a period?

[Very very good questions love it with them.]

[In a case where reader does have a period I think the both of them would be a little shocked at first but all reader has to do is explain “it’s a human thing” ]

Reader wakes up in the morning ready to start the day, that is until they feel it “shit…”

They walk up to leader as they eat breakfast, “leader, I need new clothes”

They smile “of course let me-why are you red?!” They quickly pick reader up and start inspecting them.

“A-are you not in pain?!”

“I mean kinda? It’s not a big deal”

Their eyes start to water “whenever you say something isn’t a big deal it is!”

Reader sighs “it’s just my period, it’s normal”

“Period? Period of what”

“Just gimme new clothes and then I’ll tell you! Damn”

After getting reader in their custom made bath robe. “So humans just do that?”

“I mean yeah it’s kinda shit, and I wish someone would just stab me once and a while instead, but hey what you gonna do”

They shrug.

“So you’ll be in constant pain for a week?” They asked folding readers clothes “would you like me to see if we have anything on the ship that could help”

“I would rather die then put anything in my body right now”

They pet readers head gently “alright buddy, what would you like to do then” they ask

Reader pulls them by the fluff “I need you to hold me and not put be down all day ever”

“Ok honey…”

A few hours later leader continued on with their day.

“You two seem to be spending a lot of time together today” their husband smiles at the two of them.

“It’s their period”

“period of what?”

“I'm going to explain something to you but promise me you won’t freak out, they are fine”they keep readers' heads close.

“I don’t freak out”

There was silence in the room as they started to explain what exactly a period was.

“Thank you for this information dear, for unrelated reasons I need to step out the room”

He cry’s while hugging the both of you all night.

Art undercut

I couldn’t find my brush!!💀

You guys don’t have to think of them like that at all and hey maybe you don’t like them, thats fine. Continue seeing them how you always did :)👍

Leader is the purple one and their husband is the green one. I feel like reader physically can’t pronounce their names so they would give the two nicknames.

Leader would be like- Garden

And their husband is just- Watermelon

They don’t mind :)

[manmuncher777]

Could you write something about roomates gojo and geto x reader??

Of course I can girl!!! Thank you for the request my love, I hope you enjoy <3

Two years ago, the idea of living with two boys would’ve made you laugh—no way would that ever work.

But Satoru and Suguru aren’t just anyone.

They’re your best friends.

Always have been. Always will b

At least, that’s what you tell yourself when you crawl onto the couch between them without a second thought, stealing the throw blanket from Suguru’s lap and draping it over yourself.

When Satoru laughs and tugs you sideways into his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and Suguru doesn’t even blink when your thigh brushes against his under the blanket.

It’s easy.

It’s always been easy with them.

Suguru’s the steady one—the one who cooks most nights, always remembering exactly how you like your noodles, the one who makes sure you’ve had enough water after a night out.

And Satoru’s… well, he’s chaos. Loud, brilliant, exhausting. He keeps you laughing even when you want to scream, always two steps behind you with some ridiculous new scheme or prank.

You don’t know when easy started to feel like something else.

Something thicker. Heavier. A current buzzing under your skin whenever they touched you.

Maybe it was the way Suguru started letting his hand linger on the small of your back a little longer when he squeezed past you in the kitchen.

Maybe it was the way Satoru stopped teasing you about your tiny shorts in the morning—and started leaning back, lazily admiring you instead, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Maybe it was the nights you woke up half-sprawled over Suguru’s chest, Satoru’s arm thrown over your waist, like you were something they both shared.

Maybe it’s been building for a long time.

Tonight feels no different, at first.

You’re all piled on the couch, a movie playing half-forgotten in the background.

Satoru’s feet are hooked under yours, and Suguru’s hand is resting—innocently, you tell yourself—on the bare skin of your knee, thumb stroking slow, absentminded circles.

You don’t even realize you’re staring at them until Suguru catches your gaze and tilts his head slightly, a lazy smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

“Something on your mind, sweetheart?”

The pet name punches a hole straight through your chest.

You feel your face flush, heart thudding awkwardly, but you force a smile and shake your head, sinking lower into the cushions.

Satoru chuckles from your other side, leaning closer until his breath ghosts over your ear.

“You’re such a bad liar,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing.

The warmth of them, the weight of their attention—it’s too much.

It makes your skin feel hot and too tight, and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from doing something stupid.

Something reckless.

You can feel it, thick and electric in the air between the three of you.

A question no one’s brave enough to ask yet.

Not yet.

But the lines you thought were so clear are starting to blur—and you’re not sure you want to put them back.

It was Suguru’s idea.

(Of course it was.)

Just a lazy Friday night, nothing planned, nothing to do but laze around the apartment—and maybe get a little high.

Satoru had lit up the joint with a dramatic flourish, passing it between the three of you with easy laughter.

At first, it was harmless.

Suguru sprawled lazily on one side of the couch, his hoodie slipping off one broad shoulder.

Satoru lounged across from him, legs spread wide, that stupid, infuriatingly pretty grin tugging at his mouth every time he made you giggle.

You were curled between them again, as always—close enough to feel the heat radiating from their bodies, to smell the faint musk of their cologne and smoke clinging to their clothes.

And then you started to feel it.

The familiar, slow-burning heat pooling low in your stomach.

The way your skin felt too sensitive, every brush of the blanket or accidental graze of a knee making your heart flutter.

The way your thighs kept squeezing together, desperate for even the tiniest bit of friction.

You tried to hide it.

You really did.

But Suguru’s sharp eyes caught the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, and Satoru’s grin widened when you ducked your head to hide your flushed cheeks.

“Hey,” Satoru drawled, voice sticky-sweet with amusement. “What’s the matter, baby? You getting shy on us?”

You shook your head quickly, too quickly, and Suguru chuckled low under his breath, deep and rumbling.

You felt it like a vibration under your skin.

“You’re blushing,” Suguru said, voice deceptively soft. “How cute.”

You whimpered—a tiny, humiliating sound—and immediately covered your face with your hands.

That only made them laugh harder.

“Aww, look at her,” Satoru cooed, reaching over to pry your hands away. His long fingers curled gently around your wrists, holding them captive.

“So sensitive. Bet you’re all worked up already, huh?”

You wanted to tell him to shut up.

You wanted to shove him away and pretend none of this was happening.

But you were too high.

Too warm.

Too needy.

And when Suguru’s hand slid casually up your thigh—slow, deliberate, teasing little circles just above your knee—you whimpered again, a soft, needy sound you couldn’t hold back.

“Ohhh, she is,” Satoru teased, laughter laced with something darker now.

“Fuck, that’s adorable. You get horny when you’re high, baby?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing you could disappear into the couch.

But Suguru’s hand kept moving higher, slow and easy, until his fingers were ghosting just under the hem of your shorts.

You opened your mouth to protest, to say something, anything—but the only thing that came out was a soft, broken moan.

Both boys went very still.

The air in the room thickened, heavy with something dangerous.

Satoru leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper against your ear.

“Hey, sweetheart…”

His breath was hot on your skin.

“If you want us to play with you…”

His fingers brushed your jaw, tipping your face toward his.

“All you have to do is ask.”

Suguru’s hand pressed a little higher, thumb stroking the inside of your trembling thigh.

You could barely breathe.

You were trapped between them, pinned by their heavy, heated gazes, by the slow, deliberate way they touched you like they already owned you.

And god help you—

You didn’t want to say no.

“God, she’s shaking,” Suguru murmured, thumb teasing slow, lazy circles into the inside of your thigh.

His voice was pure amusement, laced with that dark heat he always wore so well.

“You that desperate for us already, baby?”

You whimpered, trying to clamp your thighs shut—but his hand was right there, sliding even higher, and Satoru only laughed when he saw your weak attempt at resistance.

“Thought you were tougher than that,” Satoru teased, his fingers feathering along the side of your neck, feather-light and maddening.

“You’re always mouthing off, always giving us that little attitude… and look at you now. Melting. Just ‘cause we’re being a little nice to you.”

Suguru’s fingers brushed against the damp crotch of your shorts and he hummed, like he’d just found something interesting.

“Fuck. You’re soaking through already.”

You made a tiny, desperate noise—half humiliated, half aching—and Satoru cooed at you mockingly.

“Aww, sweet girl,” he said, tapping your cheek playfully. “You want us that bad, huh? Just from a little touching?”

You buried your face against Satoru’s chest, burning with embarrassment, but he only laughed again, curling an arm around your shoulders to hold you there.

“You’re adorable when you’re like this,” he murmured against your temple.

“So sweet. So easy to break down.”

Suguru slid his hand higher, hooking a finger under the elastic of your shorts—so close to slipping inside, but not quite.

You whimpered against Satoru’s chest, hips bucking helplessly.

“Ohhh, look at her,” Suguru said, voice thick with laughter.

“She’s humping my hand now.”

You let out a high, broken little moan—and that’s when both of them stopped teasing for just a beat.

The air crackled between you, heavy and sharp with want.

Satoru pulled back slightly, cupping your chin to tilt your face up to his.

His blue eyes were blown wide with lust, but there was still that teasing, cruel little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You wanna say it, baby?” he asked, voice low and sing-song.

“You wanna tell us what a dirty little slut you are for your best friends?”

Your hips jerked helplessly—and you sobbed a soft, desperate, broken sound.

They both groaned at that, low and guttural.

“Oh, fuck,” Suguru murmured, finally slipping his fingers under your panties to stroke you properly.

“So fucking wet for us.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until Satoru leaned down to kiss a tear off your flushed cheek.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, mock-sympathetic.

“Too needy to handle a little teasing, huh?”

You could barely breathe.

You needed it—you needed them—you needed everything they were offering, and you needed it now.

Your hands clutched helplessly at Satoru’s hoodie, your body arching into Suguru’s touch without even thinking.

“Please,” you gasped, voice wrecked and high.

“Please, I need—”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence before Satoru crushed his mouth to yours, devouring you hungrily, teeth dragging along your bottom lip.

Suguru pushed your shorts down, baring you completely, and the low, hungry growl he let out when he saw you made your head spin.

“You’re ours tonight,” he rasped, sliding two fingers into you in one slow, delicious push.

“Fucking ours.”

Satoru’s hands were everywhere, teasing, pulling, and owning every inch of you, while Suguru’s fingers dug deep inside you, curling with slow precision, each thrust hitting deeper than the last.

“Look at her,” Satoru chuckled, the sound dark, smug. He didn’t care that you were a mess, hips bucking helplessly, gasping for more. No—he was too focused on the way your body responded to him, to both of them.

Suguru’s fingers moved with a controlled rhythm, drawing out desperate, gasping breaths from you.

“She’s so fucking pretty like this,” Suguru murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper as he leaned over to press his lips against your ear. “So wet. So ready to just let us have you.”

Satoru was at your chest now, sliding the straps of your top down with slow, teasing movements, his hands gliding over your skin like a predator savoring every inch of you. His eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was something darker behind them—a hunger that matched the growing tension in your body.

“Fuck, look at her. She’s practically begging for us,” Satoru teased, rolling one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, making you gasp and squirm beneath him. “Tell me, baby—do you need me to fuck you, or is Suguru making you feel good enough?”

Your body trembled at the question, and Suguru’s fingers stilled for just a moment, savoring the way your walls clenched around him, desperate for more. He let out a low laugh, taking his time to pull out, only to slide back in again with an agonizing slowness.

“She’s dripping, Satoru,” Suguru groaned, grinning at the sight of your flushed, overwhelmed face. “Look at how fucking hard she’s trying to hold it together.”

Satoru chuckled darkly, bringing his face close to yours, lips brushing against your cheek as he muttered, “You’re so adorable when you’re fighting it. Look at you—so fucking close already, just from us touching you.”

Suguru’s thumb circled your clit slowly, just enough to make you squirm, but never enough to push you over the edge. He wanted you to beg. Wanted to see you fall apart for them.

You whimpered, fighting for air, desperate for release, but the way they were playing with you was making everything so much worse. So much better.

“I can see it in your eyes,” Satoru smirked, pushing himself up to tower over you. His cock twitched in his pants as he watched you squirm beneath Suguru’s touch. “You can’t stand it, can you? Want us so bad, but you can’t get what you want.”

Suguru leaned over, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was full of teasing sweetness, just enough to make your head spin, just enough to make you beg for more. He pulled away too soon, smirking at the way you panted, desperate for the release they were withholding.

“Say it,” Suguru murmured, pushing his fingers deeper, angling them just right. “Say you need us.”

Satoru leaned back, watching the scene with dark eyes, enjoying the way you squirmed and moaned beneath them. He was taking in every inch of your body, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you.

“She needs us, Suguru,” he said, voice heavy with satisfaction. “She’s been craving this all night.”

Suguru pulled his fingers out slowly, teasing you by brushing his palm over your wetness. You whimpered, shuddering at the sudden emptiness.

“She’s ready,” he muttered, voice husky. “Ready for both of us.”

Satoru’s grin stretched wider, like a wolf circling its prey. “Yeah, she is. She’s been begging for it in her own way.”

Suguru let out a low, guttural laugh, his hand circling your clit again, slower this time, but with a certain purpose. “We’ll give it to her, but not yet. We’re not done enjoying the show.”

Satoru’s hand snaked down your side, gripping your waist as he lowered himself to meet your gaze again. “How does it feel, sweetheart?” he whispered, his voice syrupy sweet with mocking affection. “Being so fucking needy for us, huh? You like the way we’re making you beg?”

You let out a soft, broken moan, your entire body trembling with anticipation, your walls clenching around nothing as you fought to keep it together. You couldn’t take it anymore. Please.

Suguru’s fingers worked faster, pressing harder against you, and Satoru’s hands moved to cup your face gently, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you’re like this,” he purred, kissing your forehead softly, contrasting the roughness of his words with his tenderness. “So fucking sweet. Letting us take control. Letting us play with you.”

You gasped, finally breaking, and they both knew it—both of them knew you were moments away from falling apart. And when you did, it would be all for them.

“You want it, don’t you?” Suguru asked, his voice low and sultry as his thumb flicked your clit once again, making you arch off the bed. “You want to cum for us, baby?”

“Say it,” Satoru urged, his voice practically a growl now. “Say it, and we’ll give it to you.”

And with that, everything inside you snapped. Your orgasm came crashing down on you, powerful and overwhelming, as you let out a strangled scream. The boys didn’t stop—if anything, they picked up the pace, pushing you through the waves of pleasure, making sure you came hard.

“Good girl,” Satoru muttered, watching you writhe beneath them, helpless in their control. “Such a good girl for us.”

Suguru pressed his lips against yours, swallowing your moans as he kissed you deeply, knowing that he’d just destroyed you and left you wanting more.

You’re barely coherent at this point, mind fogged from the weed, from the heavy petting, from their low voices and careful touches that have you crumbling. Your thighs clench together helplessly as Suguru’s fingers graze higher under the hem of your shorts, and Satoru’s hand cups the side of your neck, thumbing lazily at your fluttering pulse.

“She’s so desperate, huh?” Gojo says to Suguru, almost ignoring you entirely. “You’d think we never touch her.”

Suguru chuckles low and deep, sending shivers down your spine. His hand squeezes your thigh, spreading you open just a little bit more. “Can you blame her?” he says, tilting his head like he’s studying you. “We’ve been so mean tonight… teasing her like this.”

You whimper, hips shifting forward slightly like you’re chasing more, but it just earns you another amused laugh from them both. Satoru leans down to murmur right against your ear, voice a devastating purr.

“Poor baby. You need us that bad?”

You nod frantically, shame lost in the haze of need and want and their overwhelming closeness. Gojo hums and brushes his nose against your temple in mock sympathy.

“So greedy,” Suguru teases, letting his fingers trail just beneath the waistband of your panties now, feather-light, not nearly enough. “Maybe we should teach her some patience, Toru.”

Satoru grins, slow and sharp. “Or maybe we should give her exactly what she’s begging for. She’s being so cute about it.” His free hand slides over your stomach, thumb brushing lazily under the hem of your shirt. “Wouldn’t wanna be mean to our favorite girl.”

Your breath stutters when Suguru hooks his fingers under your panties and slides them down, slow and deliberate. Meanwhile, Satoru coaxes your shirt off, leaving you bare and shivering under their dark, hungry eyes.

They don’t rush. They savor.

Suguru kneels between your legs on the couch, kissing slow, wet paths up your inner thighs, while Satoru tips your chin up, capturing your mouth in a lazy, open-mouthed kiss, letting you taste how much they’re savoring your desperation.

When Suguru finally pushes two thick fingers into you, you keen into Satoru’s mouth, shuddering at how deep he curls them. Suguru just hums approvingly against your thigh.

“God, she’s so wet already,” Suguru says over his shoulder to Satoru, smirking. “Think she’ll break if we both have her?”

Satoru’s eyes light up with a dangerous glint.

“Only one way to find out, right?”

Your head spins at the implication, at the way they’re so casual about ruining you.

Within moments, they’ve manhandled you into position — Suguru behind you, pulling you into his lap with one hand at your hip, the other guiding himself against your entrance, while Satoru kneels in front of you, cupping your face in both hands with a grin that’s half-mocking, half-worshipful.

“Look at you,” Satoru murmurs, thumb stroking over your swollen bottom lip. “So fucking pretty like this.”

And then Suguru sinks into you from behind — slow, relentless — while Satoru watches every twitch of your face, every gasp, every needy whimper

“C’mon, angel,” Satoru coaxes, voice thick with arousal. “You can take us both, right? Our sweet girl.”

Your hips buck back into Suguru involuntarily, making him groan low and rough in your ear. He’s so deep you feel like you’re gonna lose your mind already — and then Satoru is fisting himself in front of you, eyes dark and hooded.

“Open that pretty mouth,” he demands, a teasing grin pulling at the corner of his lips. “Since you’re already being so good for us.”

You don’t even hesitate, whimpering around his cock as he pushes past your lips, letting you sink down onto him.

And just like that — Suguru grinding into you from behind, Satoru groaning low as you hollow your cheeks around him — they sandwich you perfectly between them, grinning at each other over your flushed, overwhelmed form like you’re their favorite little toy.

“Fuck, this is the best idea we’ve ever had,” Satoru groans, his hand tightening in your hair.

“She was made for us,” Suguru mutters against your shoulder, voice thick with lust. “Look at her… fuck, just look.”

Their hands are everywhere — gripping your hips, stroking your jaw, smoothing up your sides. They keep whispering to each other about you, like you’re not even there — admiring you, taunting you, worshipping you all at once.

And you can’t do anything but take it — the two of them working you apart and putting you back together at the same time.

They share a look above you — smug, wicked — before Suguru snaps his hips forward, grinding impossibly deeper inside you, and Satoru lets out a shaky breath as your mouth tightens around him.

“Fuck, she’s perfect,” Suguru grits out against the back of your neck, his hand winding into your hair to yank your head back, exposing your throat to his mouth, teeth scraping against your flushed skin. “Look at her, Toru. Fucking made for us.”

Satoru’s fingers tighten on your jaw, pulling you off his cock just enough for you to gasp a desperate breath before he thrusts back in, slow and deliberate, the tip hitting the back of your throat and making you choke just a little — just enough for him to groan, his hips stuttering forward.

“You love this, huh, angel?” Satoru rasps, voice wrecked, breath ragged. “Our messy little fucktoy.”

You can’t even answer — just a helpless noise as Suguru drives into you, every thick inch stretching you wide open, filling you so good you feel like you’re losing your mind. Your nails dig into Satoru’s thighs for balance, but he just laughs low, grabbing your hair and guiding your pace over his cock.

“That’s it,” he breathes, hips rolling lazily forward. “Be good for us.”

Suguru shifts his angle slightly, and when he grinds his hips against your ass again, you see stars — the fat head of his cock dragging perfectly against that spot inside you that has your legs trembling.

“Feel that?” Suguru growls against your ear, biting down just hard enough to make you whimper. “Feel how easy you give it up for us?”

You moan around Satoru’s cock, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth, eyes rolling back as your whole body shakes with pleasure. You’re so full you can barely process it — both of them using you like they’ve always meant to.

“Think she’s gonna cum just from getting stuffed full,” Satoru snickers, pulling out of your mouth just to watch you pant and sob for more, your lips swollen and messy. “You gonna cum, baby? Gonna soak Geto’s cock just from getting fucked like our dirty little roommate?”

“She’s close,” Suguru grunts, slamming into you harder now, his hand slipping between your thighs to rub furious little circles against your clit, sending sparks shooting through your veins. “Feel her fucking squeezing me.”

You’re babbling now — nonsense pleas, whimpering for them, chasing your orgasm blindly. You can’t hold it back — can’t even think — before it’s crashing down on you, your whole body seizing up as you cum with a choked sob, soaking Suguru’s cock, your thighs twitching.

“Fuck, fuck — good girl, that’s it, give it to us,” Suguru snarls, barely holding himself back, fucking you through it with merciless, punishing thrusts.

Satoru is pumping his cock lazily in front of your face, watching you fall apart with a dark, satisfied grin.

“Open up for me again, baby,” he purrs, and when you look up at him with glassy, fucked-out eyes, mouth dropping open obediently, he groans low and desperate.

“Fuck— look at you. Fucking ruined.”

You take him back into your mouth, moaning weakly as he thrusts shallowly over your tongue, chasing his own high while Suguru pounds into you with bruising force, his breath hot against your ear.

“Where you want it, princess?” Suguru pants, one hand squeezing your hips so tight you’re sure it’ll leave bruises. “Want me to cum inside you? Fill you up like a good little cumdump?”

You nod frantically around Satoru’s cock, sobbing with need, and it’s the last straw for both of them.

Suguru groans brokenly as he spills deep inside you, hips grinding hard against your ass, cock pulsing as he empties himself into your already messy pussy. The sensation of being so full, so claimed, has you moaning even louder, your body shaking violently.

Satoru pulls out of your mouth at the last second, jerking himself frantically before painting your fucked-out face with thick ropes of cum, groaning your name as his release coats your lips, your cheeks, even dripping down onto your tits.

They’re both panting, staring down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen — flushed, ruined, marked by both of them.

Suguru pulls out with a filthy wet sound, cum dribbling down your thighs, and Satoru immediately leans down, licking a stray drip from the corner of your mouth before pressing a filthy, claiming kiss against your swollen lips.

“God, you’re dangerous,” Satoru murmurs, grinning breathlessly.

Suguru laughs low, gathering you carefully into his arms like you’re something precious, despite how thoroughly they just used you.

“And you’re ours now, baby,” he says, kissing the side of your head. “Hope you know that.”

[parrish-the-thot]

A continuation of this post I made

I imagine Steve genuinely doesn’t think about Eddie, like at all. Besides the occasional “what is he yelling about in that table” or “ Munson actually showed up to class” or once in sophomore year he thinks “how much does Munson charge for an ounce of weed? Would he take a $50 for an ounce” which causes Eddie to wait around all day at the picnic table wishing for some shmuck to offer $50 for just an ounce, but no one shows up (Steve had to go pick up Dustin after school and didn’t want him to find weed the weed when he inevitably starts going through Steve’s car)

The lack of soulmate thoughts really irks Eddie, because he knows his soulmate is in Hawkins, but he never thinks about Eddie, like at all??? Positively or negatively?? Eddie jumps on more tables, he blares loud music from his van, he is in a band, he is the drug dealer for all the teens in Hawkins and all his soulmate thinks is “why the fuck did Munson double park his van, I’m going to be late looking for a parking spot now” it absolutely drives him crazy.

He eventually figures out his soulmate must be a jock of some kind because one day he hears “what is Munson doing under the bleachers?” when some sports team is let out of playing with balls practice. He is briefly heartbroken his soulmate isn’t a nerd like him, but then spends the night thinking about how a certain fluffy haired jock could play with his balls anytime.

Steve isn’t not thinking about Eddie on purpose, but they just don’t run in the same circles, so he doesn’t really think about him too much, just in a genuine, “I don’t know them, don’t interact with them, so I don’t really think about them” sort of way. Especially after befriending the kids, Steve’s focus goes to keeping them safe and being a babysitter instead of finding his soulmate.

Steve’s experience with his soulmates thoughts is completely different. Starting in middle school he heard his soulmate think he was cute which he thought was nice. As he got older his soulmate would still think he was cute, but also handsome or pretty which, he doesn’t know any girls who call their boyfriends pretty but ya know, he can roll with that. He thinks he will have to roll with a lot of stuff, since hai soulmate seems to into a…a lot of interesting things, to say the least. Steve has dated a lot of girls but none of them seemed to want to rub their face in his chest hair like his soulmate did, who also wonder is Steve was that hairy everywhere which- he was but he didn’t think a girl would want to know about that.

He would be in the middle of a basket ball game and he hit with a 15 minute monologue about how wonderful his ass looked in “thise little green shirts that ride up his ass in the best way” and how his soulmate “wanted to be those shorts” causing Steve to miss three different shots. Also with all this wildly kinky stuff and even general sex things Steve has never heard of or thought about he figures he should become more knowledgeable to better be prepared for his soulmate.

One day when Steve is cleaning up a drink he spilled in the cafeteria and heard “god Harrington looks good on his knees, bet he would look even better with my cock in his mouth” figures chances are his soulmate isn’t a girl at all.

With not much else to loose and a new door opened up to him, Steve starts spending time thinking equally horny thinvs about different guys he sees in class, just to see if they will react to what he is thinking. This is how he figures out Eddie is his soulmate.

Steve notices eddies table is getting a little rowdy, as is always does before Eddie gets up on someone’s table and he rants about jocks and preppy girls while stepping on people’s lunches, Steve thinks “what if comes over here, spits in my stretched out hole, and fucks me right next to Heathers Halloways tuna sandwich”

Eddie, whose soulmate didn’t even think about Eddie that one time his car got spray painted a fit was all the school talked about for a week, was NOT expecting that at 12:30 on a Tuesday and promptly trips on a chair and slams face first into the lunch table, breaking his nose.

Eddies friends rush him to the nurse and Steve is torn between this being a sign Eddie is soulmate or Eddie just clumsy, Steve has seen him walk into a door twice, so he don’t 100% sure. Steve decided to test this anytime he has a clear viewpoint of Eddie and starts thinking the most horny, kinky things possibly about Eddie to see if Eddie reacts proves he is Steve’s soulmate (also revenge because Steve had to go through years of Eddie horny pondering interrupting Steve during important tasks games or tests so Steve figures he should pay that forward during eddies dungeons and dorks games)

[heartsforjh]

Ｐｏｌａｒｏｉｄｓ

window - pt. 1

pairings: quinn hughes x fem!reader

warnings: slow burn, very dramatized (are some of these situations the most realistic? no, but it’s for the plot so just try to enjoy the whimsy aspect of it all 🔥)

word count: almost 4k (3,914)

summary: little y/n and quinn meet for the first time!

a/n: credits to @beenucks for this cutesy idea, and helping me with the graphics + storyline! it’s been in the works since like february 10th, so definitely thank you for your patience as well 😭 this is an AU INTRO! the masterlist for it is right → here! hope you guys enjoy!

Ontario, Canada 

Winter 2007 

You watch as the figures outside your window dance around on the beautiful ice rink. People laugh and skate in their own little world—a world you wish you could be a part of. 

The glass keeping you from the bustle outside fogs as you let out a disheartened sigh. It’s not really the window that’s keeping you… trapped. It’s your parents—or rather, what your parents are afraid of. 

When you were just a baby, you got extremely sick, and doctors were worried about the outcome. Thankfully, you made a successful recovery for the most part, but you were left with a very weak immune system. Since then, your parents have treated you like the most fragile thing to grace the Earth. 

“Y/n! Lunch!” your mother calls, cutting through your thoughts. 

You get up from your seat on the windowsill and make your way downstairs, taking it one step at a time. 

When your feet finally hit the first floor, you head to the dining room and sit at the table. Your mother serves you your food, and you say your thanks. After a while, as you eat, you decide to bring up the topic that’s been plaguing your mind. 

“Mommy?” you start. “Do you think I can play outside? The outside where the ice and the other kids are?” 

Your mother’s head snaps up, a surprised look flashing on her face briefly before calming herself. “Now, why would you want to do that, silly?” 

You think hard. This is your shot to convince her to let you go explore and make new friends instead of just observing like you’ve always wanted. 

“I like it out there. It’s nice,” is all you manage to get out under pressure. 

Your mother chuckles, amused. “What do you like about it, honey? 

“I like the tree by my window. And I like the ice, Mommy. I want to go on the ice. All of the people that get to play on the ice have a lot of fun,” you inform her, your voice filled with hope. 

Your mother brings your lunch over, setting it down in front of you. “It’s nasty out there. We’ll find something more fun for you to do where you won’t get sick.” 

The next day, you wake up early in the morning, a little more bummed than usual. However, you make your way out of bed and go sit at your window, like you do every day without fail. 

You sit and watch for a few minutes, zoned out and zoned in at the same time. You’re watching everything and nothing. That is… until something catches your eye. 

A small figure is stood still in the middle of the ice, waving. Surely, not at you. 

You look around, but nobody else seems to be interacting with him. You lean closer to your window to get a better look. 

It’s a little dark-haired boy, and he’s facing you with his head tilted up to your second-story bedroom. He is waving, and it is at you! 

You’re stunned for a good moment before realizing you need to do something back. Excitedly, you hold up your hand, moving it side to side quickly. You’re aware you probably look incredibly eager, but you couldn’t care less in this moment. 

The little boy smiles, and you can’t believe someone from out there is interacting with you like this. Usually, everyone is locked into what they’re doing, where they’re skating, and certainly not worried about you. 

This one is different. He’s different. He looks like he wants to be your friend. He’s not ignoring you the way the other skaters always have. He noticed you. 

The rest of the time he’s there, you watch as he moves around the ice. He goes around in circles and shows off his tricks that have you giggling with amusement. The entire time he’s doing this, he’s constantly looking back up at you, making sure you’re thoroughly entertained. 

After a while, the little guy waves goodbye, then leaves with a blonde woman and two other little boys—who you’re assuming are his family. 

You don’t see the boy for a couple of days after that, despite waking up earlier than usual to make sure you’re ready at the window during the exact time you saw him last. On the third day, as you lay in bed, you accept that it was probably just a one-time thing. 

However, when you finally get up and go to your window to peek out—there he is. He’s standing in the same place he was just some time ago. You let out an excited gasp, and when he sees you he perks up. 

He immediately waves, and you return the action. You’re overwhelmed with joy that he’s back. But suddenly, he begins to walk—and not away. He leaves the rink and walks the few feet it takes to get to the wall where your window is. 

Now, you’re caught off guard more than anything. The little boy stops right in front of where your window is and waves. You can only think to do one thing. You open the window. 

He smiles when you do, and calls out. “Hi! Do you want to come play?” 

“One second, please!” you yell back. 

The boy nods, and you shut your window. Opening your bedroom door, you start for the downstairs window that’s facing the rink. You don’t use this one as much. It’s got a pretty view, but you simply can’t see as much as you can from the highpoint that is your bedroom window. 

When your feet leave the final step you run over to the window that you can see the boy standing near, and open that one up. 

He notices, and turns to you, smiling even brighter now. “Hi. My name is Quinn.” 

“My name is Y/n,” you tell him, relatively shy. 

“I saw you up in that other window. Do you want to come play? We can skate, and look,” he says, lifting his hand to reveal that he’s holding a camera. “I got this for Christmas. It’s my first time opening it. My mom said I can bring it here. We can take pictures of anything.” 

You nod, thinking up a response to your complicated situation. “That sounds nice, but I can’t go out there. I’ll get sick.” 

“No, it’s okay. You just have to put a coat on, then you’ll be alright,” he says, his voice full of hope. 

You smile at him trying to help. “Thank you, but I’m not allowed.” 

“Ever?” he asks, his eyebrows raised. You shake your head no, and his eyes widen a little bit. “Uh… maybe I can come in there to play with you!”

You go to reject his offer again before realizing that it’s not a bad idea. Your mom has a problem with you being outside and playing with people because you’ll get sick, but she never said anything about playing with people inside. 

“I can ask my mom!” you say, ecstatic at the thought that this might be your first real friend. 

Quinn matches your smile. “Okay! I’ll ask my mom too. She’s just at the rink.” 

You nod and shut the window, turning to go ask your mother if your new friend can come inside, but Quinn stops you. 

“Hey, Y/n! Can I have a picture of you to show my mom?” he yells through the window. 

You come back to the window, smiling for a photo. Quinn takes it and watches as it develops with a wide grin on his face. He holds out a thumbs up to you before running off in the direction of his mom, and you do the same with yours. 

You finally find your mom doing laundry and tug on her shirt to get her attention. “Mommy? Can my friend come play with me?” 

“Um… sure, sweetie,” she says with a laugh, glancing at you before getting back to what she’s doing. 

You’ve always been a super imaginative, and honestly, quite the lonely kid. You’ve had “friends” before but they’re the kind that you’d pretend are there when playing, or that you’d blame something you obviously did on when you’re in trouble. 

You're a little surprised at her agreeing just like that, but you don’t question it and go back to the window waiting for your new friend, Quinn, to get back. 

When he finally arrives he’s got a huge smile plastered on his face, and you give him a thumbs up, pointing to the side of your house where the front door is. The boy quickly makes his way around the side of your house, and you meet him. You open the door excitedly as soon as you reach all of the locks and figure them out. 

“Hi, Y/n! We can play?” he asks, his eyes all lit up. 

You nod, opening up the door further to let him in. You watch as he steps inside, and sits on the floor of the foyer. He takes his skates off, then sets them up as neatly as possible. 

You watch his movements carefully, studying him almost. “Do you have fun on the ice outside?” 

“Yeah, I like skating! It’s for hockey… or it can be for ice skating. That’s kind of like dancing on skates,” he explains. 

You take in all of this information, then glance back to his skates that are sat on the floor. “Those ones are yours?” 

“Yeah, these are mine. You can hold them if you want, but don’t touch this silver part. It’s called a blade, and you could get cut on it,” he says, picking up one of his skates and holding it out to you. 

You take the skate in your hands. It’s heavier than you imagined, and you can’t seem to figure out how anyone could balance on a blade so thin. 

“I like your shirt. You wore one just like that last time,” you point out. 

Quinn looks down, then back up at you with a smile. “This is called a jersey. It’s for hockey players to wear. Or… you could wear one—anyone can, even if they don’t play hockey.” 

Once you’re done asking Quinn a million questions you decide he’s definitely hungry and you should make sure he gets something to eat. 

“Stay here, Quinn,” you order, and he nods. You leave the room and go find your mother again. 

She greets you with a sweet smile. “Hello, sweetheart. What do you need?” 

“Mommy, my friend… is hungry. He needs a snack,” you inform her, serious as can be. 

“Oh, does he?” she laughs, figuring this is your own silly way of letting her know you’d like something to eat. “I’ll be right out.” 

You nod, say your thank yous, and make your way back out to Quinn. He’s sitting on your family’s couch and you climb up to join him. 

The poor boy is bombarded with wave two of questions. However, he doesn’t seem to mind at all, answering every question with more enthusiasm than the last. 

Your moment of getting all of the info out him that you can is cut short when you hear your mom’s footsteps approaching. She finally comes out of the hallway, turning to glance at you but immediately doing a double take. You and your new friend watch as your mother stands there wide eyed—staring right back. 

“Y/n, baby… what… who… um… who is this?” your mother asks in a half-collected half-panicking tone as she walks closer. 

You look at Quinn then back to your mom. “My friend, mommy. Remember? You said he can come in and play with me.” 

“Right… your friend,” your mother repeats slowly, her eyes flickering between you and Quinn like she’s waiting for him to magically disappear

“He’s… actually sitting… on our couch right now,” your mother says with a nod and you swear you can see her eye twitching a little bit. 

You simply nod back to her, unsure of why Quinn sitting on the couch is so crazy. Your mom takes a deep breath and turns around, heading to the kitchen to make that snack, not knowing what else to do. When she finally brings the snack, she’s the one bombarding Quinn with all of the questions now. 

“Does your mom know you’re here?” 

“When have you got to leave?” 

“Are you… okay?” 

“What’s your name?” 

“How old are you?” 

Over the course of practically interrogating him, your mom does grow quite fond of the random little boy you’ve invited in. She lets you continue your play date, except now that she knows he’s real, she’s supervising. 

Your play date with Quinn is going very smoothly. You find that he’s very funny and very polite. Unfortunately though, your fun is interrupted when there’s a knock on the door and everyone, including your mom lets out a little gasp. 

“I think that’s my mom,” Quinn says a little defeated. 

Your own mom gets up. “I’ll go see, honey.” 

She makes her way to the door and opens it. You and Quinn stare at each other as all you can hear is mumbled talking, and you try your best to make out what is being said. 

“Quinn!” your mother calls after a little while. “Time to go!” 

Quinn’s shoulders slump and he sighs, turning to you and giving you a hug. “Bye bye, Y/n. I’ll come back, okay?” 

You nod your head and hug him back before he hops off the couch. You watch as he makes his way towards the front door and picks up his skates then disappears out of view. You turn around to watch out the big window as you see him leaving with that same blonde woman and two little boys. 

Quinn does in fact come back. He comes back a lot. The two of you become very close with time. Your mother and Ellen even start to really get along and hang out during playdates. You come to learn that Quinn’s two brothers are named Jack and Luke. Jack is rowdy, and Luke is constantly just trying to keep up with the chaos of his brothers. 

One day, during one of your many playdates Luke accidentally slips up. Your mom and Ellen are sitting at the kitchen island talking, Jack is nowhere in sight–probably getting into something he’s not supposed to, you and Quinn are sitting on the couch drawing pictures, and he is laid on the ground, eating Goldfish, and listening in. 

“Quinny, I think one day when we’re older maybe my mom can let us skate together,” you tell him, voice full of hope. 

Quinn smiles and looks up from his page at you. “Yeah, one day. Only when you’re healthy though.” 

“Wait… how will you skate together if we’re leaving?” Luke asks. 

Your brows furrow, and you look up at Quinn confused. “Leaving?” 

“Luke! Why would you say that?! You’re not supposed to tell her yet! I wanted to tell her! You ruined it!” Quinn raises his voice. You can tell this is really frustrating him, but you still don’t know what it all means. 

He sighs, then looks back at you. “Y/n, we’re all going to be moving soon… to a different place. We’ll still be in Ontario, but just really far. So, we won’t be able to see each other as much.” 

“But, I don’t understand. Why are you guys leaving me?” you ask, fighting back tears. 

As long as you can remember your world has only been the one outside of your window. It doesn’t go any farther that, because you can’t go any farther than that. Somehow, you had a good friend delivered to you right at your doorstep and it led to this. You’ve never been more grateful for anything in your life than you are the Hughes family. Now, your people are going beyond your world. They’re leaving your world! 

“Our dad got a job,” Jack answers, coming around the corner to sit on the couch. 

You sigh, shoulders fully slumped and a saddened expression on your face. “He can have a job here. Why can’t he just have a job here?” 

“I wish I could control it, but I can’t. Trust me. I’d stay here with you forever if I could,” Quinn explains. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s not the end or anything. I can still visit you. I’m gonna ask my mom every single day until she finally lets me. Then, when I get back, I’m going to bother her until the next time.” 

Your nerves settle a little at that, but your heart still hurts. “Everyday?” 

“Everyday, I promise.” 

You nod, starting to be semi-okay with the idea. It could be worse. “When are you guys leaving?” 

“Two days…” Jack answers, he puts a hand on your back and looks closely at your expression, feeling bad. 

Your face immediately changes to one of anger. “No! Not two days. That’s too soon! Why didn’t you tell me?! You’re not leaving in two days!” 

“I’m sorry. We didn’t want to upset you, but it looks like that didn’t really work either way,” Quinn says, a sympathetic expression on his face. 

You lean back on the couch, putting your head in your hands. “I can’t believe this.” 

All three boys look around at each other, unsure of what to do. Jack is the first to make a move. He wraps you up in a hug, laying his head on yours. That’s when it clicks for the other boys, and they join the hug as well. 

“We’re sorry, Y/n. We love you, and we’re gonna miss you. I hope you’re not mad at me,” Quinn says, and you could’ve sworn you heard a sniffle. 

You look up to check on him, but you can’t really see his face as he has it down. Finally, you hug them back. “I love you guys too. I’m not mad. I’m just… surprised.” 

The time for them to leave comes quicker than you’d like it to, granted, you only had two days to mentally prepare. They swing by your house one last time, kind of in a hurry. 

You tell Ellen, Jim, Luke, and Jack all goodbye. It’s absolutely heartbreaking, but when it comes time for Quinn you’re immediately in tears. 

He leans down, wrapping you in a hug. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I’m honestly so sorry. We can see each other soon! I’ll make sure, okay? It won’t be long.” 

“Okay…” is all you can get out, crying as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

Then, it’s obvious. It’s not a simple sniffle. You can hear him clearly this time. He’s crying. You’ve never seen him cry before. It’s an odd feeling. You don’t want him to be upset, but this isn’t something you know how to fix. 

“I love you, alright? You’re my best friend,” Quinn says, pulling back to look at you. 

You nod, staring right back at him. “You’re my best friend too. I love you. I won’t replace you.” 

As if you could. Once these boys are gone, you’ll have no one again. No one to drive your mom crazy with the yelling or making a mess. No one to come see you and stay for hours. Before Quinn and his family, you were all alone. You know what this means. You know that feeling will be back. How will you ever find a friend as great as Quinn? 

He noticed you when the world had never even come close to acknowledging you. He waved, he asked to play, and he wanted to be your friend. 

The goodbye is much longer than Quinn’s parents probably would’ve wanted, but they couldn’t bring themselves to make the two of you separate without being ready first. 

You watch out the big downstairs window as they drive off. And when you can’t see them anymore from there, you run upstairs to see if you can get a better look out of your bedroom window. You watch silently as your second family fades away. 

It’s painful.

You don’t know exactly what to do with yourself after that. You just sit at your window, and watch the people below. It makes you realize that you haven’t done this in a long time—since Quinn. Sure, you’d look out of it occasionally, but that was only when you were trying to see if Quinn had arrived at your house yet. Now, you’re really looking out again. You’re back to square one. 

It’s been months since Quinn moved. There hasn’t been a play date since then either. Your mom would always tell you that she’ll ask, but nothing ever comes of it. Is she even really asking? How would you know? 

You’ve still not got a singular new friend—not surprising considering you still aren’t allowed to go outside and play. You’re fed up. You’ve decided that it’s time you get to do something. You’re gonna convince your mom today. 

“Hi, honey!” your mom says with a smile when you come downstairs. 

You sit at the dining table watching as she cleans up the counters. “Hi. Can I skate?” 

“What?” your mom snaps her head to look at you, caught off guard. 

You nod your head, signaling that… yes, she did in fact hear you correctly. “I wanna skate. Quinn does it for his sport—remember, Quinn? Yeah, I want to do that too.” 

“Okay, well, Quinn plays hockey. You’re absolutely not doing that,” your mom says, catching your snappy tone. 

You huff. “Mom, it doesn’t need to be hockey. I just want to skate. Quinn told me that there are places like the rink outside but inside instead. I won’t get as sick! There’s one in Toronto. That’s what he told me. I want to go there.” 

“Do you know how far Toronto is? And besides, you don’t even know how to skate. You’ll hurt yourself,” she counters. 

You raise your eyebrows. This convincing thing is harder than you thought. “So then get me lessons. Plus, it’s still a car ride away! Isn’t it worth it for me to be happy? I don’t get to do anything.” 

“Oh, you’re gonna pull the sick card?” she says, annoyed. 

You cross your arms, not budging. “You do it every time I ask to do something harmless.” 

“Okay… I get your point. I’ll look into it. Now, go play,” she says with a sigh. 

You get up from the table, frustrated, unsatisfied. You’re sure she’s not really gonna look into it. Luckily, you won’t let her brush this off. You feel a little bad—it’s your mom and you weren’t the nicest, but you’re tired of being coddled and having your wants ignored. 

Safe to say, your plan to get your mom to let you skate worked. You’re hopping out of her car in your big pink jacket and new white skates, ready to go into the rink. 

When you step inside, it completely amazes you. You thought you knew everything about it from the things Quinn told you, but his words don’t do it justice. You cannot wait to step on the ice for the first time ever. 

You immediately sit down to put your skates on. You struggle quite a bit. Gosh, Quinn made this look so easy. You don’t even bother asking your mom, as she’s already in a bad mood about having to be here. 

“Hi, need some help?” a voice says, getting closer with each word. 

You smile at the offer, and look up to see who’s trying to do such a kind gesture. “Luke?!”

PLEASE BE SURE TO UPDATE YOUR TAGLIST SUBMISSION IF YOU’D LIKE TO KEEP GETTING TAGGED FOR THIS AU! THANK YOU! :)

creds to @beenucks for the polaroids 🙏

tags: @beenucks @nic0-hischier @azure-dawn81 @emsdevs @puckmedude @joesnumerouno @alex-wotton @puckfics @editzcp @r0wdymaize86 @ccomandercody @macklin-celebrini-71 @randomcuboidshape @when-im-with-you @quillycrow @rainyvalentines @alwaysclassyeagle @ruinix @greensnakegobblep @whitegirlsworld @dancerbailey3 @cheesecakeinahole @multifandom-2091

join the taglist here! :)

[luigisleftshoe]

Husband Luigi Headcanons

Ugh i just have to start with a proposal bc he would be so stressed all day. Like the man would be on the edge of his seat the entire day and you ask him what's wrong and he's just like “what! Me! Nothing! Why would you think that🤨?”

He would want the proposal to be very private just the two of you but also very special. He's shy ok? What if you say no? Who would say no to him? Honestly he would probably propose on a hike. But like not a normal hike it would have to be both of your special nature spots and he would be like “let's do a picnic there” and you do and boom he proposes. 

Ok lowkey i feel like he would want to do an elopement like something very intimate just the two of you and then like on your one year anniversary he would do the actual wedding party with friends and family. Because like yes he wants to celebrate with friends and family and such but he also feels like this should be a private sacred moment ya know? Like just the two of you with the officiant, no one there to mess it up, no stress of putting on production, just two people that love each other. Then, on your one-year anniversary, that’s when he’d throw the real wedding. The party. The family celebration. The toast. The formalwear. The photos. But the vows? The real vows? Those were for just you and him.

But the actual married life part! WOWWY be prepared for your health nut husband!

He cannot stop calling you “wife” like it's a new pokemon he just unlocked. The man MILKS it. Say “my wife” instead of “you” even in private. Correct people when they say your name: “You mean my wife?” You cough once and he's like, “Careful that's my legally-bound domestic soulmate right there.” its like 40% a bit and 60% disbelief that he actually got to marry you

He overfunctions so hard the first week it's almost stressful. Rearranges the spice rack three times. Researchers optimal mattress firmness. Unironically joins r/BestMattresses4MarriedCouples reddit. Uses a leveler to hang photos at 11:45 pm. And when you tell him to chill, he's like: “I just want everything to be perfect. For you. For us. Is that a crime??”

He doesn't sleep unless he's touching you. Not in a sexy way (ok sometimes it is). But mostly in a soft grounding “if you're not here i literally cannot turn off my brain way.” Grabs your arms in his sleep. Spoons you like, his life depends on it. Mumbles in the dark: “You're not leaving, right? Not like, in a dream way. Like in a literal way.” When you say no he instantly relaxes like a switch. 

Nonstick pans are banned in your house. Everything that he's health conscious about for himself he's suddenly about you and he's like “we need to be the healthiest longest living married couple to ever exist.”

He will definitely randomly spiral about being enough. Like you'll be folding towels and hell go quiet, and then out of nowhere hell be like “You don't regret this right? Like marrying me. You'd tell me if you did?” And he's not doing it to fish for compliments, it's because under the weight of being so deeply loved and in love scares him. When you come down and hug him saying “you're the only thing that ever made sense.” Hes sat. 

He flirts like an absolute menace even more so. Fixes the sink shirtless and says “who needs plumber when you've got a husband with pipes?” Flexes while carrying groceries: “Bet you're glad you married this.” But the second you say “I am. You're so hot.” He malfunctions like “error 404 not found.” and is like “Oh–uh. Thanks. Wait. no. like–yes. You too. I mean. Fuck.” 

He turns cleaning into an olympic sport. But only when you're watching. Will vacuum in full athletic shorts, blasting music, dancing like an idiot, and pausing to point at you mid spin like: “Tell me i'm the hottest man alive. Dont lie.” (He knocks over a lamp and apologizes to it. Not to you.) 

Hes not materialistic at all but he is DEEPLY deeply sentimental. He keeps your first grocery receipt, a cork from the wine you drank watching Shrek 2 the night after your elopement, and your old hoodie tage from when you gave it to him in college. Labels them in a little box under your bed. Refers to it as “our marriage museum.”

The way he never lets you carry heavy grocery bags. You could be holding a single loaf of bread and he’s yanking it out of your hands like,“No. You’re the delicate one. You’re precious cargo.” Meanwhile he’s stacking six grocery bags up each arm, refusing help, almost knocking over a grandma in the parking lot and almost pulling his back again.

He sends you ridiculous voice memos when you’re apart. Like 40-second rants about how the grocery store is out of your favorite yogurt. Or him dramatically whispering,“The guy at Starbucks called me 'boss.' I feel unstoppable. You married a legend.”

Cooking turns into flirt battles.You try to flip a pancake? He sneaks up behind you, wraps his arms around your waist, and tries to "coach" you like a horny Food Network contestant. Whispers dumb shit like:“You’re so hot when you cook. Bet you’ll be even hotter on the kitchen counter.” (He 100% burns the second batch because he’s too busy trying to kiss you.)

He's too competitive about dumb couple activities.Escape room date?He’s mapping the entire room like it’s a Navy SEAL mission. Mini golf? He’s trash talking you under his breath like,“Hope you’re ready to get destroyed, Mrs. Mangione.”

His ultimate weakness: you wearing his last name casually. You call to set up an appointment and say "Mrs. Mangione" on the phone and he hears it from the next room, immediately trips over his own feet getting to you. Blushes for an hour after.

Babe is like deeply deeply empathetic to like a fault. Like he will pick up on your moods instantly and it will get even more immediate when your married. Senses you're stressed = immediate forehead kiss. Senses you’re sad = wraps himself around you like an emotional scarf. Senses you're mad at him = quiet slow spiral until you talk it out because he cannot handle "weird vibes."

Gym bro tendencies, but only for the validation. If you call him hot after he works out?He will literally flex like: “This is all for you, baby. All these gains. Yours.”

Ok i know i said hes very much not materialistic but he would buy one item of random “husband” merch and wear it unironically. Like a tshirt that says #1 husband. Apron that says “kiss the husband” in comic sans. Or a hat that justs says “married” across the front. He thinks its hilarious and hell wear them out in public with no shame. Itll become his new BALI shirt.

Has a “wife playlist” he only plays when he misses you too much. Not public. Not shared. You catch him playing it on the speaker when you’re out of the house too long. You tease him and he turns bright red like: “Shut up. It’s an emotional regulation playlist.”

He leaves you stupid but sweet handwritten notes in random places. Not "good morning" ones, weirder ones: “Congratulations, you found the secret note! The prize is a kiss.” (taped inside the fridge), “Husband still loves you. Update: More than yesterday.” (inside your laptop), “Do not panic. You are my favorite.” (on the laundry detergent)

You joke about a baby once and he laughs a little too loud. But deep down? He’s spiraling like “Could I even be a good dad? Would I mess it up? What if I’m too immature still? What if I disappoint her?” He is incredibly terrified of having kids. Not like he doesn't want them but like He trusts himself. He trusts you. But he doesn’t trust the outside.The economy. Climate change.Violence. All the things that could hurt something he helped create.And it gnaws at him in a quiet way — not when you’re laughing on the couch, but when the news is on at 2AM and you're asleep on his chest. He doesn’t tell you that immediately, but you catch him absentmindedly rubbing your back while zoning out. If you bring it up casually, he jokes it off at first. “Yeah sure babe, let’s just throw a kid into this apocalypse. Sounds great.” (Said half-joking, half-aching.) Or:“You really want them to grow up eating protein powder and vibing in a collapsing society? Babe...” (He smiles but it’s tight.)

His biggest fear is that he wouldn’t be able to protect them — or you. Not "I wouldn't love them." Not "I don't want them." But "I can't promise they'll be safe. And that kills me." He doesn’t say that outright until one night when you’re half asleep and he mumbles into your hair:"I’d do anything to protect you. I’d do anything to protect them too. But the world’s bigger than me, babe. And I hate that."

If you ever convince him? It won’t be a decision made lightly. It’ll take years of trust, love, hope-building. You’ll have to show him that even if the world burns, you’ll be a family inside the fire. And once he’s in? HE’S IN.

Fixes stuff around the house while muttering about “future-proofing for little feet.” (You catch him once researching how to child-proof cabinets before you’re even trying for kids. He slams the laptop shut in shame.)

[arminreindl]

Tewkensuchus: King of Punta Peligro

Last month we got our fourth croc of the year and our second notosuchian: Tewkensuchus salamanquensis (Forehead crocodile from the Salamanca Formation), a large-bodied sebecoid from the earliest Paleocene of Argentina. And GODDAMN is it a cool one.

Below some of the fossil material of Tewkensuchus, it doesn't look like much but stay with me for this post.

Starting with the fossil material, Tewkensuchus is admittedly not the most complete sebecid, hell Dentaneosuchus from two years ago is significantly better preserved. Essentially, Tewkensuchus preserves a bit of the skull and a few vertebrae. But the material we do have is exceptional in other ways. Like some European sebecoids, it had a high and broad sagittal crest that extends over its forehead flanked by two broad depressions. Remember the similarity to European sebecoids, thats gonna come back later. Theres also some interesting stuff in how the bony eyebrows, the palpebrals, articulate with the rest of the skull.

What is REALLY weird however is the shape of the postorbitals. Quick anatomy lesson, in crocs the postorbitals form the front corners of the skull table thats located just behind the eyes. They tend to be flat, but in the case of Tewkensuchus they are inclined so that they rise upwards behind the eyes. Now we have plenty of examples of crocodylomorphs with raised squamosals, giving them a somewhat ear-like appearance, but raised postorbitals are a new one.

Below: An artistic interpretation of Tewkensuchus featuring its unique cranial morphology by Manusuchus (give them a follow) from different angles.

One last thing on its anatomy, it was BIG. And I mean big. The team that described Tewkensuchus estimate that its complete skull might have been just over half a meter long, so some 20 inches. This might correspond to a weight of perhaps 300 kg (660 lb), larger than even the largest Cretaceous Baurusuchids.

Now, I hope you remember the part where I said that theres similarities to European sebecoids. Well that sentence has two key points the paper deals with. First of all, the connection to European forms itself. Phylogenetic analysis seems to indicate that despite being found in Patagonia, all its closest relatives are from the Eocene of Europe. These are the recently named giant Dentaneosuchus from France, Bergisuchus from Germany and Iberosuchus (I'll let you figure that one out for yourselves). So after Tewkensuchus disappears South America is inhabited by only distant cousins while its closest relatives show up some 20 million years later on the other side of the Atlantic.

The other noteworthy part of the statement is the use of "Sebecoid" rather than sebecid. That's because of taxonomic back and forth. Essentially, a few previous studies have not included European sebecoids (Bergisuchus and Iberosuchus) within the family Sebecidae, instead featuring them as a separate branch that split off beforehand. In some studies that branch is known as Bergisuchidae, in others they are two branches, you get the idea. Now the description of Dentaneosuchus for instance did away with Bergisuchidae and simply include these European forms within Sebecidae itself. Still as the basalmost members, but given the honor of being at least included. Same goes for Ogresuchus. Well, in the description of Tewkensuchus, we go back to the separate model. So Bergisuchus, Iberosuchus, Dentaneosuchus and Tewkensuchus all form a single not officially named group simply referred to as the "Eurogondwanan clade". This group was placed as the sister family to Sebecidae and together with Ogresuchus the two form the newly named Sebecoidea.

Europe's sebecoids, Dentaneosuchus (art by Joschua Knüppe), Bergisuchus (by Scott Reid) and Iberosuchus (once again Manusuchus)

And this is where we need to address the fact that Tewkensuchus creates a bunch of new problems and makes old ones worse. For starters, it's size. By all accounts its way too big. Keep in mind, this animal appeared some 2 to 3 million years after the extinction of the dinosaurs, an extinction event that is generally thought to have killed everything on land heavier than 10 kilos. And then you get Tewkensuchus with an estimated weight of 300. Well, there's two possible explanations for that. Explanation 1 hinges on the known fact that these rules don't quite apply to semi-aquatic animals. Sure, anything large on land got whiped out, but eusuchian crocodiles managed to survive quite well despite their large size in part because they were partially aquatic. So perhaps Tewkensuchus and sebecoids as a whole underwent an aquatic phase? Well, this would work quite well with what is known as the Sebecia-hypothesis. Essentially, there is some debate on the relationship between sebecids and other notosuchians. Some studies draw a link between them and the similarily terrestrial baurusuchids, placing them in the group Sebecosuchia. Other studies meanwhile believe that sebecids are most closely related to peirosaurids, which in turn are close kin to itasuchids and mahajangasuchids, with both of the latter being more semi-aquatic than other notosuchians. The problem with this is twofold. On the one hand, to my knowledge there has never been any indication that sebecids underwent an aquatic phase and even Cretaceous sebecoids like Ogresuchus from before the impact were clearly terrestrial. The other issue, as nice as this would fit with the Sebecia-hypothesis, this particular study actually recovers the Sebecosuchia model. So there's that.

Personally I don't really buy into this explanation, which takes us to the second possibility. Sebecoids got really jacked really fast. I mean, that's it really. If sebecoids didn't undergo some weird little phase that somehow excempts them from the 10 kilo rule then the only logical answer is that they must have grown to a ridiculous degree the second the dust settled. Do we have evidence for that? Well....kinda but not really no. The closest we have is the fact that Dentaneosuchus from the Eocene clearly reached an enormous size on its own, but that was over 20 million years after the impact. We do at least know that sebecoids were small prior to the KPG thanks to Ogresuchus from Spain, which grew to only a meter in length. But a sample size of one isn't exactly exact proof that all sebecoids were small prior to the impact, especially with shifting phylogenies. The paper itself argues that its most parsimonious that whatever sebecoid crossed the boundry was already fairly large, but time will tell if this holds up. Whatever the case, with a skull half a meter in length it was certainly a formidable predator and a terrifying sight to any unfortunate mammal to cross its path.

Tewkensuchus attacking a startled Monotrematum, a South American monotreme, art by Joschua Knüppe

Finally the last thing to address, paleogeography. It sucks. Moving on. Jokes aside, sebecoid geography was already a pain in the ass. Assuming the sebecosuchian model, sebecoids likely split off from baurusuchids during the Santonian. Mind you this is purely based in the first appearance of baurusuchids, since sebecoids didn't appear for quite a while. Ignoring the problematic Doratodon, the first sebecoid to appear in the fossil record is Ogresuchus in the Maastrichtian of Spain. In the Paleocene we then obviously get Tewkensuchus representing the Eurogondwana clade in Argentina as well as sebecids proper, which seem to be constrained to South America. But then in the Eocene we suddenly have sebecoids in Europe and Africa (for simplicity I'm assuming that Eremosuchus was a sebecoid rather than a sebecid as is traditional). So, how does any of this work? We don't know. I've been breaking my head over how to best explain this without just repeating the paper itself, so let me just say this. Maybe sebecoids originated in South America with baurusuchids, they managed to enter Europe at the very least once giving rise to Ogresuchus, probably via Africa given that its very much undersampled. From there who fucking knows. Maybe Ogresuchus was just one random branch and the two main groups both actually originate in South America. Maybe the Eurogondwana group emmigrating to Europe as well while sebecids proper remained. Maybe the Eurogondwana group originated in Europe and Tewkensuchus simply returned to South America, or maybe they originated in Africa and had members travel west to South America and north to Europe. Or maybe....you get the idea, we don't know. We don't know if they rafted or took land bridges (tho the latter seems more likely), we don't know where certain groups first originated in actuality, we do not know a lot and Tewkensuchus being such a blatant link between Paleocene South America and Europe, which were well separated by that point, raises so many questions.

I imagine this is what this entire last section reads like....

I wish that last segment wasn't as chaotic as it is, but like I said, its a big old confusing mess and it gives me a headachse just thinking about it. So for the time being, its simplest to assume that they split from baurusuchids in South America and then some stuff happened we don't understand. Personally, I'm very much putting my trust in Africa here, I am 100% convinced that some very important stuff went down that we just haven't found yet. But thats just me.

[errorcode-33]

Pretty

Choso x reader

NSFW fem!hot!reader // choso

warnings; dry humping, choso is bad at feelings, slightly clueless choso, dub-con? (everything is consensual, but choso doesn't completely understand everything), reader is hot, kinda long, premature ejaculation.

Note; it's been a while since I wrote this, and I've uploaded this once already, however I got restricted by the tumblr's anti-spam system:/

Enjoy!

It surprised you that you were not part of the incident in Shibuya, seeing as you were a special grade sorcerer, you'd have assumed they'd want to tag you along somehow.

They did not, and you ended up being one of the last to learn about Gojo's imprisonment. It came as a surprise, and a part of you almost started to worry about what was going on in Tokyo, so naturally you found yourself offering to help out, even going as far as to move back to help with Jujutsu high.

What you didn't expect, is for the higher ups to dump an ex-curse user on you with no explanation besides 'make sure he doesn't relapse or something'.

It baffled you how unprepared they were, but you weren't one to complain. Not when your new half-human half-curse roommate was so... cute?

When you were told to keep an eye on him, you weren't expecting this to be what you'd be dealing with. You'd expected some super scary, weird curse thing, but Choso was surprisingly chill.

Socially inept, sure, he definitely wasn't used to living in human society, and definitely the quiet type, but he was easy to get along with and for the most part followed along with what you did.

If anything he seemed lost. You didn't really question why he split from his curse friends, but it was pretty obvious that whatever it was must've been intense enough that he's willing to go along with all of this.

You chose not to dwell on it too much, instead shrugging at the fact you now have an indefinite companion and moving on to live life as you normally would. The higher ups didn't really inform you what they wanted you to do with him, and seeing as you had no new missions assigned to you, you found yourself left with quite a large amount of free time.

Which you chose to spend getting acquired with Tokyo once again, having been away for a while, you had somewhat forgotten how it was. How did you choose to do this? Shopping, bar hopping, markets, social events, that kinda thing.

Basically all the things you used to do back when you used to live there.

And who was your designated victim of these adventures? Your new friend of course!

You found it endlessly entertaining to drag him around and introduce him to things he's never experienced before, which he (surprisingly) seemed to find tolerable.

He never really argued with you. Want to go shopping? Ok. Let's go hit the club? Alright.

In a way, he almost found himself enjoying doing those things with you. It was certainly better than being completely alone, though there were still things he didn't understand.

Why did you need new things so often? The old ones hadn't broken, and the new black dress you got looks awfully similar to the one you wore last week. Why do you need new shoes? He could've sworn he's seen those exact heels in your apartment.

Clubs confuse him even more. Why would you want to surround yourself with drunk people and loud music? He can't even hear what you're saying, but it feels nice when you lean against him like that so he doesn't mind, and you look so good in your black dress, whichever one it is (he can't tell the difference), that he feels his cheeks heat up.

It's an unfamiliar sensation, but he brushes it off as nervousness (is that what it's called?) of being in an unfamiliar environment.

He doesn't really understand why everyone in the club is eyeing him like that, majority of the men at the club giving him weird looks, which he wants to ask you about the meaning of, but he's not sure how, simply ignoring it as he watches you effortlessly down another shot.

He tried one last time, it tasted gross and felt weird in his throat, leading him to question how you were drinking them without even making a face. Are all humans like this?

He doesn't really care enough to investigate, not minding just sitting as you have your fun, trying desperately to not appear rude as you try and tell him something that he literally can't even hear because of the music blasting in the background.

You do look really nice though, and he finds himself staring at you pretty often. Not just at clubs but in general, which you catch most of the time but don't bring attention to, finding it cute.

He doesn't even notice he does this, or understand why he shouldn't do it anyway. You're pretty, why shouldn't he look?

When you finally get a mission assigned, he tags along as your partner. There is another group on your mission, two of the guys give him strange looks (similar to the ones he got at the bar), and he tries to search for any form of explanation inside his mind, once again contemplating whether to ask you for an answer. You were good with people, he was sure you'd know.

He was about to ask but you seemed so involved in your discussion with one of the girls, that he decided against it, awkwardly hovering by your side waiting for you to finish, wondering why your laugh makes him feel all weird inside.

Once the mission was over, he wasn't surprised that you dragged him along with you to celebrate with your sorcerer friends.

The gathering itself went pretty normal, but a few things caught his attention. You got complimented a lot, which he hadn't really noticed before, both on your skills and your looks. His expression must've looked strange enough for one of the girls to chime in and say "what, don't tell me you weren't aware that you're partnered with like- the hottest female special grade sorcerer to date!" which earns her a laugh and a small nudge from you.

Choso spends the rest of the night thinking about that.

He'd never really thought of it that way, but now that it was mentioned to him, he couldn't help but agree that you were hot. And that was strange.

He was never really one to ogle women, having never felt the need to before, but now he found his gaze wandering more often. It's not even that anythings changed in his behaviour, he just started noticing it more.

It felt weird.

He didn't like the feeling.

It felt wrong noticing these things. The way dresses hug your waist, and shorts show off your ass, and the way the tank tops you wear around the apartment make your boobs look really good. He feels almost ashamed when he notices, but a part of him doesn't want to look away, urging him to admire you as he feels strange sensations pooling inside him.

He finds himself thinking about you a lot, whether you're around or not. Sometimes he'd think of you at night, not understanding why he felt all hot inside and sleep seemed to escape him on those nights.

As you got closer, he'd find that he liked being around you in general. Enjoying the tingly feeling he got whenever you leaned against him while watching movies on the couch, or the way you'd hold his wrist when guiding him through crowds in whatever route you'd deemed the 'fastest'.

Over time he started to speak more too. Not much more, he was still pretty non-talkative, but he'd talk now instead of simply nodding in reply.

You also found yourself growing to like him more. You thought he was pretty interesting to begin with, not only because of the whole half-curse thing, he just seemed pretty cool.

And he was adorable, can't forget about that.

I mean, what's better than a hot guy who's slightly clueless? It's definitely way better than the men who can't seem to keep it in their pants, wanting to slot it in at the mere sight of a pretty girl showing a bit of cleavage that's for sure.

And the thing is, he didn't even seem to realise he was hot.

Upon getting to know him, he was just as oblivious and awkward as he seemed. It was honestly so cute how he'd blush when he'd realise he was staring, and how he seemed so confused about what it was he was feeling, and how the way he felt seemed to be obvious to everyone but him.

It was clear as day that he liked you. There was no hiding it, though you'd wager he probably didn't even realise what that meant.

But you sure did.

So you'd make it a game, flirting with him constantly, getting more touchy than necessary, just to see how long it would take for him to question it. Except you knew he probably wouldn't.

Why would he? It's not like he can even put a name to what it is he's feeling. And he certainly can't tell what the stiffness in his pants is when you lean on him, hand drawing small objects on one of his thighs as your eyes are fixed on a movie.

He can feel it, he just can't name it.

Once again, he wants to ask you, but in this case it's him who stops himself from doing so. How is he supposed to ask about something like this? Wouldn't you find it weird? What even is this??

His thoughts are disrupted when you look up at him through your lashes, lips slightly glossy from the lipgloss you were wearing that day and the reflection of the light from the screen, hand still resting on his thigh as you ask if you can sit in his lap.

The request is strange to him, but he doesn't deny you, feeling a small pang of excitement when you bring it up.

When you shift into his lap, hips pressing down on his as he suppresses a gasp, back to his chest. He doesn't say anything about you blocking the screen, afterall, is the view of your back not better than a movie he doesn't even understand the plot of?

He remains silent as you make yourself comfortable in his lap, acutely aware of the way the tightness in his pants seems to intensify as you do so, the familiar feeling of heat pooling within him coming making itself present.

Almost on instinct, he spreads his legs slightly, causing your ass to press closer to the bulge in his pants, causing him to let out a small groan.

"you alright Choso? I can get off if you'd like"

Your words are said teasingly, though there is a hint of sincerity in them, you wouldn't want to make him uncomfortable afterall.

"no... it's fine. It just- feels weird"

"weird how?"

He contemplates for a second, hands resting idly on your hips as his thumbs mindlessly draw on the exposed skin above your waistband.

"it's like- all warm. hard to explain, it's just... strange. I've never felt this before" he pauses before adding, "it feels good though, you don't have to move"

You hum, shifting slightly closer to him, hearing the way he swallows behind you, the twitching in his pants not going unnoticed by you.

"are you getting worked up?"

"if that's what this is called"

His response is pretty blunt, not even trying to deny the effect you have on him as he blushes slightly, realising that you probably felt the commotion happening beneath you.

He was about to apologise before you interrupt him, leaning back against him, head resting on his shoulder.

"I can make it feel better if you want"

"please do"

His voice is soft, but it doesn't lack certainty. You honestly were expecting him to be a bit more flustered, but you weren't gonna complain about this.

You let out another hum, beginning to gently grind your hips against his hard on, relishing in the way his breathing stutters and soft noises start to make themself present.

"keep- keep doing that... it feels nice..."

You let out a small laugh, pressing a kiss to his jaw, one of your hands moving to run through his slightly messy hair, earning you a small sigh that grows into a moan as you press down on his hips harder.

"ok ok~ I'll keep going~"

You purr, grinding your ass against him through his pants, not at all surprised when you feel him throb beneath you, hands gripping your sides tighter, pressing you against him a bit harder almost instinctively chasing after this very nice new feeling you're gracing him with.

You smile when you hear him hiss, breathing getting heavier as he get's closer.

"feels really- weird-"

He huffs out, head falling to rest on your shoulder, breathing getting more erratic as the rhythmic press of your hips against his becomes more and more insistent.

"good weird?"

"yes."

You nod, pressing your lips to the side of his head as his hips shift slightly under you, breathy moans turning into louder groans as he reaches his high.

It wasn't surprising that he finished pretty fast, seeing as he's never done this before, and you ease him through it. His hands move to wrap around your waist, holding you against him as he catches his breath.

"how was it Choso? better?"

He doesn't answer straight away, but after a few short moments he nods.

"can you... do that again?"

Now that surprises you, but who are you to deny?

Masterlist.

Requests are open!

[deardiarywrites]

dealing with the blues : how to manage negative emotions and more ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა rotting vs resting

i know how upsetting life can be sometimes. you want to get better but something happens and life just keeps pushing you down, and you fall further and further into a rut. and because of that, you start to feel even worse. "why am i not doing as good as the others?" , "why am i so xyz?" , "why am i not like her?" etc etc. cmon my love. this isn't the time to compare yourself to others and feel even worse but to slowly dig up the soil, and find out what is actually going on. ♡ just take a day off, babe seriously. sometimes you just need to let yourself be upset and be unproductive yk? there is nooo shame in being unproductive as hell for a day or two. take your time and have a good break. now talking about breaks, we have a problem. are you really resting or rotting? RESTING makes you feel good, happy and energised ROTTING makes you feel guilty, unproductive, sluggish a lot of the times, instead of resting and recharging our minds, we are feeding our minds with lots and lots of brainrot, indulging in bad habits in the name of "resting", avoiding important work etc which in return make us feel even worse! well, resting isn't supposed to do that, right? resting is supposed to recharge you, get you ready to fight again. so next time you choose to 'rest', be mindful. do not indulge in things that you know will make you feel worse. doomscrolling is not resting. stalking your friends is not self care. intentionally avoiding important work is not self care. binge watching series by wrecking your sleep schedule and then feel guilty abt being on your phone all day is not self care. self care and resting is doing things you love which will nourish your mind and distract you for a little while, so that you can take a step back and just be aive for a bit.

an example of a day off could be smth like this ( just an example, please remember that everyone's life is different and so is yours. adjust accordingly ) : ʚɞ do not set any alarm, let yourself wake up naturally and when you do, pick up that book you have been meaning to read for a long time. ʚɞ have breakfast ʚɞ do 1 thing you really love and which makes you super happy (dancing, singing, acting etc) ʚɞ talk to someone or write abt how you are feeling ʚɞ try to create smth. a quick diy project, a lil sketch, crochet, a new dance move, a song cover, a poem, a video, photography etc ʚɞ do 1 imp work which you have been putting off (homework, stdy for a test etc) ʚɞ delete instagram for a bit and surround yourself with positivity. use tumblr, youtube, pinterest instead. ʚɞ go outside, even for just 5 minutes. ʚɞ maybe call up your friend/s and play smth ʚɞ take cute pics of urself ʚɞ maybe post smth cute on tumblr wink wink ʚɞ have a cute night ritual and then go to bed. ₊⊹ monitor what you have been consuming lately what you feed your mind and body actually matters (lol what a shocker). so tell me, have you been eating well? sleeping well? surrounding yourself with positivity? or have you been consuming content which further degrades your mental and physical health? try to replace unhealthy junk with healthy stuff. fix your fyp, choose "not interested" for posts which no longer resonate with you. declutter and reorganise. i really, really suggest trying a quick digital detox for a day. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ talk to someone who you feel safe with. you can even text me, ill try my best to respond <3 please talk to someone when you feel upset, communicate bbgs, communicate! even if it is hard and uncomfortable. if you feel like you have no one to talk to, talk to a stuffed animal or a tree or yourself. let those thoughts and feelings out, don't hold them inside your body. release them. observe them. try to understand them. but never let negative emotions become a part of you. they come and go, like any other emotion. you will be just fine. even when it feels like it is the end of the world love you always,

@deardiarywrites

[tobiosbbyghorl]

Hyper & Chill | psh

act 43: her car

prev

Ever since you and Sunghoon started working, commuting separately had become a hassle. While it helped keep your relationship private at work, the long waits for public transport and the occasional awkward run-ins with coworkers made it clear—you needed your own car.

So, you started saving. Every paycheck, every little bonus, even skipping unnecessary splurges just to reach your goal faster.

Sunghoon, however, hated watching you struggle.

“Let me chip in,” he said for the hundredth time one evening as you browsed car listings on your laptop.

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your foot. “And for the hundredth time, Lolove, NO.”

“But Lolo—”

“I want to do this on my own, Lolove,” you said firmly, glancing up at him. “I don’t want to depend on your savings. It’s my car, my responsibility.”

He huffed, leaning back against the couch dramatically. “But I want to help.”

You grinned, deciding to mess with him. “Fine. Save it for our wedding or our future child instead.”

The room fell dead silent.

Your smirk froze as Sunghoon’s gaze darkened slightly. He tilted his head, the corner of his lips quirking up in a slow, knowing smile.

“Oh?” he mused, voice dropping an octave. “Our wedding? Our child?”

You immediately felt heat rush to your cheeks. “I—I was joking, okay? Joking.”

Sunghoon, of course, had no mercy. He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. “Sounds to me like you’ve been thinking about it, Lolove.”

Your face burned. “I have not—Sunghoon, I swear—”

He chuckled, pressing a teasing kiss to your cheek before murmuring against your ear, “I’ll start saving, then.”

You shoved him away, heart pounding as he laughed.

⸻

A few months later, after relentless saving and dodging Sunghoon’s suspiciously generous offers to pay for “little things,” you finally bought your own car.

It was a sleek, elegant white sedan—your dream car.

Sunghoon stared at it, arms crossed, as you admired your new purchase.

“You picked a white one?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice.

You turned to him with a satisfied grin. “Yup. It contrasts your black one perfectly. Opposites attract, you know.”

He scoffed, running a hand through his freshly trimmed hair. “Cute. Now we look like those couples who match on purpose.”

You smirked. “What, embarrassed?”

He shook his head, stepping closer. “Nope. Just means everyone will know we belong together.”

Your breath hitched as he leaned against your car, watching you with that smug, knowing expression.

©️tobiosbbyghorl - all rights reserved

taglist: @iboughtnjz @rikidaze @pocketzlocket @jaerisdiction @ijustwannareadstuff20 @doririsstuff @whateveridontcarsheesh @rikifever @firstclassjaylee @jayhoonvroom @veilstqr

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[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Walter Marshall

Summary: Walter takes you shopping for a new bed.

Warnings: Size discrimination. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is short, female. No other physical descriptors used.

Previous

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

"Do we have to do this Walter?" you whine as you get out of the truck.

"If you want me to stay overnight at your place again, yes," Walter replies. "That thing you call a bed can barely support the two of us when we're just resting, let alone when we're getting frisky. And I'm too old for the floor."

"Well why can't I just get you a really big dog bed, then?" You smirk at Walter's fake glare as you scritch his chin. "Fine," you concede. "But I reserve the right to complain the whole time."

"Of course," he nods as puts his arm behind you, gently pushing you into the furniture store. "And I'm okay with you getting a couch instead, just so long as it's got better support."

"Thank you for respecting the limitations of my space," you nod.

It didn't hurt he'd also agreed to pay for half the thing since he was the main reason you were buying it. Or so you let him think. In truth, you knew you'd needed to upgrade your tiny little bed couch for a while now. It definitely wasn't doing your back any favors. You'd added pillows to try to make it cushier, but that was a temporary fix.

But going out to a store and actually buying a better option was its own kind of torture. Salespeople bugged everyone, of course, but they often took your shorter stature as reason to invade your personal space. At least when you were at work your uniform gave you a modicum of respect, a bit of a bubble for your safety. Without it, you were just another short person they could smile about looking down on. You were a target they could push into buying something you really didn't want. You weren't a shrinking violet, and happily bit back at them if they pushed too hard, but it was exhausting and shouldn't have to happen in the first place.

Walter could tell you were on edge but wasn't sure why. He chalks it up to your hesitancy surrounding change and big purchases. He's learned his lesson on trying to speak for you but he's happy to accompany you.

Once inside, you both go directly to the couches. They're more familiar for you and your sleeping habits. The fold out ones are also more sturdy for Walter's sake. There are some things you'd love to do to really test out which couch would be best for both of you, but you don't feel like getting arrested for indecency. He volunteers to scout out other areas but you hold onto his hand to keep him near.

"You're my guard dog right now," you whisper to him. He's not entirely sure what to make of it, but he nods in agreement, if not understanding.

It isn't long until you're approached by a salesman. His name tag says "Pete" and his smile is just shy of sleazy. His focus is clearly on Walter and he greets him with a smile and a handshake, barely looking at you.

"So what can I help the two of you?" Pete offers.

Walter doesn't say anything, just points to you. You smile a little at the double take Pete does but drop it immediately when he gets a little too close.

"So what are you looking for, little lady?" he asks, changing tactics.

"Some personal space," you say flatly as you glare up at him.

For a moment it looks like Pete's smelled something awful but he fixes his composure and takes a step back, almost bumping into Walter. "That's fair," he nods. "Anything else I can get for you?"

You tell Pete the dimensions and requirements you're looking for and he starts walking you towards the pricier options. When you realize what he's doing you immediately turn and start walking towards other, more reasonably priced options. It might be rude, but you've got a budget and he's going to have to respect that.

Walter sees a momentary scowl on Pete's face but keeps his own mouth shut. You're in charge here, and he's happy to see you throwing the guy off. He's definitely understanding more of your request that he be your guard dog. Especially when Pete looks at Walter like, can you help me out here? Walter gives him an unfriendly smile and gestures for Pete to follow you. You're in charge. The sooner Pete respects that, the sooner he can get a sale.

The only time Walter says anything is when you have him try out the couches with you. He gives you honest opinions as he flops down onto them, testing how they handle his weight and rough treatment. He happily steps between you and Pete whenever you need to think. Making sure Pete can't add pressure to the decision.

When you're ready to make a decision you tell Pete which one you want and in what color. He tries to upsell you on a few things and you agree to the one that actually does sound like a good idea. He retains his customer service smile as he gets the paperwork and tallies everything up but the rest of his body language indicates he's not happy. He really should be happy he got anything from you.

The paperwork gets signed and the couch will be delivered to your little apartment in a couple of weeks. You shake Pete's hand and turn to head out. Walter also shakes his hand and Pete grumbles, "I don't understand how you can be so completely whipped for a chihuahua like her."

Walter squeezes Pete's hand extra hard, making the man wince. "Not my fault you can't handle a strong, intelligent, woman with an independent streak. Though now it makes sense why you're still single."

In the cab of Walter's truck you let yourself decompress. He climbs in soon after you do and starts the engine.

"I think I'm understanding a bit more of why you didn't want to do this," he starts. "So I want to thank you, again, for being willing to do so."

"Well, you weren't wrong about the couch needing to be replaced," you confess. "I was just being really stubborn."

"Understandably stubborn," he consoles. "Lost track of how many times I wanted to smack him."

"I'm really glad you didn't. That you let me actually be in charge and didn't step in unless I asked you to. You're a good guard dog."

"Ruff," Walter playfully barks, making you smile. "So, as a thank you, I was wondering if you'd let me treat you to some Dairy Queen?"

"That depends," you tease. "How much of a bill can I run up?"

"Hmm...just don't order everything from the menu?"

"I can work with that," you smile.

Next

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @changenameno; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @kingliam2019; @kmc1989; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[theseinfernalangels]

Could you do #34 for Brennan

It’s gives me the vibes a younger fem!reader who’s never been loved by a real man 😖

34: Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips.

A/N: Anon has me giggling fr 😭🤭

“Love,” Brennan says softly, watching you with what you like to refer to as the Confused Puppy Eyes. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

You shake your head, grabbing at the roll of bandages that he’d snatched from your hands. “I’m fine, Bren. Seriously. Don’t worry about it.”

The older man frowns. Your mannerisms were sometimes confusing to him, but this was on a while new level. You’d gained a few pretty gnarly-looking wounds on your arms from helping some First-Years in combat earlier, and they would be so easy to fix with his signet — but for some reason, you won’t budge.

He takes a deep breath in. Fine. If you want to be that way and play hyper-independent, then he’ll just have to break your walls in. Easy.

Slowly, Brennan sinks to his knees in front of you, keeping his eyes fully trained on yours. The motion completely surprises you; Brennan, while being the sweetest man you’ve ever met, was not one to get on his knees for anyone.

Well…Excluding that one time. But that was besides the point.

You raise an eyebrow, not quite understanding the gesture. “Bren?”

He doesn’t reply, instead dipping his head to press a kiss against your knee. Your eyes soften, and while you’re distracted, he gently pries the roll of bandages from you again and inconspicuously rolls it under your shared bed. Instantly, though, your back straightens, and that soft look on your face twists into a scowl. “Brennan!”

“Hush.” The words on your tongue die as he reaches up and grabs at your own injured arm, tugging the blood-streaked limb closer to his face. He inspects it with narrowed amber eyes for a moment before he looks back to you. “Don’t talk, okay? I know you’re tired, love.”

You blink, completely forgetting the sharp words you’d been ready to bite at him just a moment ago. Sometimes, Brennan insisted on being the one to fix everything, even though you were damn well capable of doing it all yourself. There was no doubt that it was frustrating, but when you added his gentle words and soft touches, you guess you could settle for handing things off to someone else for a change.

And that’s exactly what he does. Taking your hand in his, Brennan brushes his lips over your knuckle like a prince, and you stiffen as you feel the familiar rush of warmth exuded by his signet.

“You know,” he whispers, moving his head up to your wrist. “I get that you prefer to be an independent woman sometimes.” He turns your hand over to mouth against your pulse. “That’s okay. I respect you and your autonomy. You’re so strong, my love, and you’re so capable of a lot.”

A shiver runs down your back at the words, and you have to fight to stay still in your place. Why did your lover have to be so…considerate? You always took care of yourself — not even boyfriends or your family could really attest to keeping an eye out for you — so why did he have to go and raise that bar?

He shifts a little, running his lips up your forearm. Slowly, easily, you feel your flesh start to knit back together in streams of warmth and light. “I respect that,” he repeats. “But I’d like to ask something of you.”

Pulling away, his eyes meet yours again. “Let me take care of you,” he says, more of a suggestion than a question. “I can handle this one, okay? Let me help you here, and then you can take the reins back. Promise.”

Your free hand curls into a little fist, but you can’t force yourself to look anywhere but at him with the way he looks at you. It’s soft, caring, but also stern — something that the Lieutenant Colonel could never really put to rest, even in the safety of his bedroom.

Finally, your shoulders drop at the unexpected pressure of his stare, and you sigh, averting your gaze defeatedly. “You’re not gonna let me say no, aren’t you?” You ask quietly.

To no one’s surprise, Brennan shakes his head. “Nope,” he hums, moving back to start trailing kisses back up your arm. “I like taking care of you, sweet girl. I’m gonna end up doing it, whether you want me to or not. These kind of things become unconscious after a time.”

Your fingers flex awkwardly when he reaches your shoulder. The wounds on your arm are long gone now, but the man continues his ministrations and moves his lips against your skin as if to consume you. “I just don’t want you to feel obligated,” you object halfheartedly. “It’s not fair to you with how busy you are. You need rest, too, Bren.”

He nods, his other hand snaking into your hair to gently pull your neck as he noses along the column of your throat. “True,” he admits. “But I’m more concerned about you.” He nips at your skin before making his way to your jawline. “Which is why we’re here now.”

Your lips quirk up a little as he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek, and then he pulls away, looking at you expectantly. 

“What do you say, huh?” He whispers, fingers running along the now-bloodless skin of your arm. “Let me take care of you for a bit?”

Your brow furrows. “But you just— Oh.” You cut yourself off when his own smile turns a little sly. “I suppose this is the part where you actually kiss me?”

The feeling of his mouth settling on yours is the only answer you need.

[marvelslut16]

Broken hand

Pairing: Dr. Trinity 'Trin' Santos x reader

Synopsis: Reader breaks her hand and meets the prettiest knight in shining armor doctor she has ever seen.

Word count: 1.7k+ of pure nothingness

Warnings: Broken bones, no gruesome explanations though. Emotionally abusive father, so nothing new for me. Sucky writing, I wrote this at 2 am and didn't proof read, whoops. I don't even know if I like it all that much.

A/N: Hey, hi, hello. So was forced to watch The Pitt with my parents, and jokes on me, I fell in love with it. So, this is loosely based off myself. I fell at work back in November and I'm like 90% sure I broke my hand, but I never got it checked because I thought I could be a tough girl and deal with it. Anywho, haven't posted a fic since fictober, and here I am back with a brand new fandom. Please send in requests for The Pitt, I'm obsessed atm.

Also have an idea for a part 2 to this, reader takes Trin to a family event and reader's dad is pissed that Trin is around and she still refuses to put up with his shit.

With every hour you were stuck in the ER waiting room, your fathers temper grew shorter and shorter. After five long hours in the waiting room you’ve come to the conclusion that you should have just sucked it up and dealt with the pain, or at the very least gone to urgent care instead, but that  was closed when you arrived at the hospital hours ago. You’re approaching six hours when someone finally calls your name, and you can head to the back. You’re shown to your bed, and by the time you get situated three doctors are in the room waiting for you.

“I’m Dr. Langdon, and this is Dr. King, and Dr. Santos,” your eyes widen ever so slightly when they land on Dr. Santos, and if you didn’t know any better you would think hers did the same thing. All of those years on stupid dating apps, and all you needed to do was injure yourself to find the prettiest woman in Pittsburg. “It says in your file that you think you broke your wrist?”

“Are three doctors really necessary?” your irritated father asks from your bedside before you can even respond to the question. 

“This is a teaching hospital, sir,” Dr. Langdon responds, his own frustration thinly veiled. 

“It’s fine,” you speak up for the first time, voice small. “Nice to meet you three, I’d offer to shake your hands, but it hurts to grip things.” You let out a little self deprecating giggle.

“Does it hurt when you do anything else?” Dr. Langdon asks while lightly grabbing your hand to check for swelling. “It doesn’t look that swollen.”

“See, I told you it was fine,” your father mutters. 

“Actually, you can fracture your hand and have no noticeable swelling,” Dr. Santos adds, stepping to the other side of your bed, half blocking you from your father’s view.

“Um,” you give Dr. Santos a small smile before responding to Dr. Langdon’s earlier question. “It hurts when I grip, twist, bend my wrist to make my pinky closer to my wrist, and when I put pressure on it. It’s the outer part that hurts, the area below my pinky and ring finger.” You gesture towards the area, hand still being looked over by Dr. Langdon.

“Does this hurt?” he asks, twisting your wrist outward.

“Yes,” you whimper a little, Santos glaring at Langdon over your head. 

“Okay, do either of you have any questions for the patient?” Dr. Langdon asks his residents. 

“How did you hurt it?” Dr. Santos asks in a calming tone, one that earns strange looks from the other two doctors. 

“Um, well I slipped and fell at work, and I caught myself mainly on my right hand. It started to hurt pretty much right away, and I could barely move it without crying,” you admit the last part quietly, embarrassing yourself in front of the cute doctor. 

“Did you know, it’s better to fall without tensing your body, and rolling upon impact, it keeps you from landing roughly on one body part and breaking it,” Dr. King adds from the foot of the bed, pushing up her glasses. 

“Not helping,” Dr. Santos snaps, while Dr. Langdon also makes a face to the other doctor to let her know that he agrees with Santos for once. 

“That’s what I've been telling you for years, don’t be such a dumbass next time,” your dads irritation clearly growing throughout the consultation. 

“That’s me, just a dumbass,” you look down at your hand, refusing to meet the gaze of anyone in the room. “But yes, I did know that, um, I was falling in the direction of a wall, so it was either my hand or my head hitting the wall. I figured hand was the better option.” 

“Sir, why don’t we step out in the hall for a moment,” Dr. Langdon addresses your father. “Dr. King and Dr. Santos can ask some follow up questions in private.”

“I’ll stay where I god damn please, she’s on my insurance still, so I’m staying with her,” your dad yells, and you can practically hear the rest of the ER grow quiet for a few seconds. 

“Sir, she has to change into a gown and they have to take her for a urine sample, before we can take her for and X-ray,” Dr. Langdon tries to reason with your father.

“Do you have a smoking area around here?” your father grunts, conceding in his own way. 

“Yeha, I’ll have Nurse Evans show you where it is,” Dr. Langdon holds the curtain open for your father and closes it behind them when they exit. 

“I’m 25, so if I get injured again next year you won’t have to deal with him,” you laugh, breaking the awkward silence with the two female doctors. 

“Does he always act like this?” Dr. Santos asks, an annoyed clip to her voice.

“To an extent,” you nod for no one's benefit, you don’t even know why you’re telling her this. “He doesn’t do well when he or someone he cares about is hurt, so his way to cope is to get angry. Something about him not being in control, blah blah blah.”

“It doesn’t mean you should have to deal with that,” she’s staring at you so intently you feel like you could melt right into the bed. 

“Maybe not, but he’s not gonna change and the less I fight him the faster his moods go away,” you admit, never looking away from her gorgeous green eyes. 

“We have to ask you some routine questions,” Dr. King interrupts your staring contest. “Like Dr. Langdon said you’ll have to have an X-ray done so we need to know if you're pregnant.”

“Nope,” you answer right away.

“Even if there’s a possibility of it, we don’t want to hurt a fetus by exposing it to radiation,” Dr. King continues.

“I’m not pregnant, I’m a lesbian so… never slept with a guy,” you swear you hear a quiet inhale from the dark haired doctor standing next to you. “But I know you won’t take my word for it, so where’s my cup,” you hold out your good hand expectantly. 

Sure enough your urine test proves that you aren’t pregnant, so you’re put in line for an X-ray. An hour after that you finally get it done, and according to Dr. Langdon you fractured your triquetrum and hamate bones. Dr. King is walking you back to your bay after letting you change back into your street clothes in the bathroom. You both stop short when you hear an agitated voice from the other side of the curtain, a voice that certainly isn’t your fathers. 

“Your daughter fractured two bones in her hand, and she handled her pain a lot better than most of the men I’ve seen come through here this week with less severe injuries. Ya know, I’ve known men like you, men who think they can walk all over the women in their lives, but you can’t. One day she’s gonna realize that she doesn’t have to put up with your bullshit anymore, and you’ll lose her forever. Show some damn respect for your daughter.”

“Who do you think you are-”

“Someone who cares more about your daughter and her health than you do right now. So get your act together, they’re going to put a cast on her and when it dries you guys can head home.”

Dr. Santos throws the curtain open and you come face to face with your gorgeous knight in shining armor. Nobody has ever had the guts to stand up to your father, especially not for you. You can’t read the expression on her face, and she’s stomping off through the ED before you can even form a sentence. 

“Guess I can’t say I’ve never broken a bone anymore,” you try to lighten the mood with your dad, sitting back down on the hospital bed. He doesn’t respond, and Dr. King informs you that someone will be back in a few minutes to wrap your hand, before she takes off across the ED. 

You’re shocked, but thrilled, when Dr. Santos returns with the supplies to put a cast on your arm. You’re dad huffs and leaves to have another cigarette when he sees who it is. Being alone with Dr. Santos for the first time, you're forced to confront the fact that you more than likely stink after eight hours at the hospital. The last thing you want to do is embarrass yourself in front of this gorgeous woman.

“You’ll have to come back in six weeks to get this cast off and have another round of X-rays to see if your hand healed properly. We can set up an appointment, that way you don’t have to wait for hours,” Dr Santos says, as she dips the plaster in water and starts wrapping it around your hand and arm.

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” you can barely breathe when you fill her fingertips ghosting across your skin. 

“I also brought some pamphlets on mental and emotional abuse,” she’s staring directly into your soul as she tells you this. 

“Uh, thanks, but I don’t really need those. I’m fine, I’m moving out next month, it’ll be okay. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before, and he’s just turning into a crotchety old man,” you absently play with the hem of your shirt with your non-plastered hand. “Thanks though, and thank you for what you said to him, no one’s done that before.”

“Well they should,” she says assertively, slipping you a piece of paper with a number on it before going back to wrapping your hand. “And if you don’t want the pamphlets, at least take this, it’s my personal number. If you ever want to chat, I’ll be there to listen, I've dealt with men like that, I understand. It may take me twelve plus hours to respond, but I promise I will,”

“That I’ll do,” your face morphing into a goofy love struck grin, clutching tightly to the paper like it’s a life line. 

“And, maybe, you’d like to go on a date with me sometime,” she ventures, laying down the last bit of plaster. 

“I’d love to,” you giggle like a love struck teen.

“My name’s Trinity by the way,” she smiles back at you, leaning in ever so slightly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Trinity, definitely makes my fall worth it.”

[adobe-outdesign]

Here's a bunch of very lose spitball-y thoughts as someone who's into the lore (keep in mind, however, that I am also white—ideally TNT would talk to actual Polynesian people for this):

Gen:

I do think a plot or small event would be needed, as users would likely be a lot more receptive to major changes if there's story behind it (like Faerieland's fall). Doesn't have to be huge; see the little Krawk Island Disappearance event.

I feel like Mystery Island needs an actual name—the current one is a leftover relic from when it was only accessible via totem. Just establish that that's what other lands call it and establish a new name that the people of MI use.

Remove the "watch out for the cannibals" (yikes) line from the world map. Also, change MI's map icon to be Techo Mountain instead of the random giant moʻai head that isn't even part of the map.

PB-wise, I like the ideas in the comments about doing island flora/fauna, but effectively retiring the color would probably upset a lot of people with expensive customizations built around it. I would just change the ones that are the most racist (i.e, the ones that have random African attributes, like Kyriis and JubJubs).

They could also rename it "Island Tourist Paint Brush", which might go a long way in making it less weird/culturally appropriative. (Bonus points if they gave the indigenous MI characters their own separate unpaintable color ala the Tyrannian Elders, but that would be more work).

Map Changes:

Just delete the Tiki Tours entirely and move the avvie and the mood boost to The Beach (then move the Kacheek Swim avatar; maybe make it a customization thing).

Establish that Rorru (the Haiku Generator Kougra) is half-Shenkuu on her mother's side, and have her move back to Shenkuu to visit family, relocating the Haiku Generator in the process.

Get rid of the Harbour. It's not racist I just don't know why it exists

The Rock Pool was created way back when Maraqua was destroyed. I'd get rid of it and merge the stock back with Maraquan Petpets (the shop itself is fine; I'm just suggesting it because of the below note).

I don't know what Aztec/Mayan buildings are doing here, but I don't like that or the cannibalism going on in Geraptiku. I'd be as bold as to say that as part of the plot, MI decides to start using the deserted land again; i.e., merge the Petpet Shop and Colouring Pages to the mainland (TNT would have room with the other changes noted here).

TNT could even consider moving the Deserted Tomb to the Lost Desert and making it an ancient Egyptian pyramid instead (like MI closed theirs to tourists, but coincidentally the other one was found in the LD at the same time.)

Other:

Mumbo Pango (yikes name) hasn't been important in a very long time. I think you could just straight-up remove all mentions of him and no one would notice.

Have the Tombola Man retire and have a new young islander take over his job (both Tombola and Tiki Tack). This would be a great opportunity to refresh the art and the prize pool, both of which are badly needed. (Also yeah, drop "tiki" from everything.)

The Cooking Pot is fine, just remove the mentions of Pango Pango (same character as Mumbo Pango as far as I know) and make it so that Jhuidah's magic fuels it. Also redesign her—something like this, maybe?)

Kitchen Quests are fine—the Underwater Chef isn't indigenous, but he's a refugee (both lore-wise and on-site; they moved his quests out of Maraqua when it was destroyed) so I think it's okay. However, his Neopedia entry casually mentions him being forced to cook under threat of being eaten by Mumbo Pango (Yikes(TM)) so remove that part. Maybe mention in the article that him being allowed to live on the island was a rare wartime exception.

Going off the notes, it could instead be that he just serves food to tourists and he works this terrible food service job as a thank-you to the people of MI for taking him in or something like that.

Island Training is weird because it's Japanese, but you don't want to remove all of MI's attractions. Maybe just remove the ninja mentions and redesign the characters a bit?

Redesign the Island Mystic to be, uh, Not That

OKAY NEXT NEOPETS LORE QUESTION.

What are people's thought on how to make Mystery Island um.. less. THAT. (racist)

Like would it just be a wake up one day and the whole map and everything related to it is different, or would people expect there to be some kind of plot involved?

If there was lore involved, would it be MORE insensitive to do some kind of mini-plot in which the people of Mystery Island are tired of being seen as nothing but a tourist destination and want to reclaim the dignity of their home, which ends with a lot of major changes to the location? Or could that be a nice narrative if done respectfully?

Would changing the land itself require changing all of the existing Mystery Island paintbrush pet designs? I feel like this is where it gets difficult because it would be best to not have any racist designs lingering around, but I could see a lot of backlash if people are using the base color for their pet and it suddenly changes and destroys their customisation. (This could be mitigated just by keeping similar color schemes but idk if the stripes and stuff that a lot of them have would need to go and whether it would be good to replace them (plus also, I think this is a very entitled thing to be upset about in the face of getting rid of racist content so I would hope people just dont fight it)) It would probably be kind of impossible to delete all the old pb items off ppl's accounts tho, at best they could be replaced by different wearables and the item images updated.

Thoughts, opinions, concerns? 🤔

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

I don't usually write the Papas a lot but i wanted to explore the dynamic between Copia and Perpetua so. There.

"What the fuck are you doing here."

"Hello to you too," Perpetua snorts, pushing past Copia and into the temporary office he's been holed up in.

"Its two in the morning."

Perpetua shrugs, looking around. He avoids the painted eyes of the woman he never knew to be his mother, represses a shiver when it gets him to accidentally meet those of his father's portrait instead. Same eyes as his, same as the twin brother glaring daggers at his back.

"Tour starts in two days. You should rest."

Copia's toned is clipped, his worry directed at the quality of the show Perpetua will have to put on rather than the man himself. Can't really blame him. The new Papa grabs a black and white rat scurrying on the armchair he set his eyes on and plops down in it, curiously holding the squirmy creature at eye level.

"What-" Copia squeaks, "what are you doing ? Set her down !"

Perpetua pets the soft furr on top of the little thing's head, unbothered. Copia makes an aborted move to reach for his beloved pet, but Perpetua keeps her close to his chest.

"Your ghoul bit me," he hums conversationally, deciding to let the rat go for Copia's blood pressure' sake. Relieved, the man deflates, sinks into the cushions of the couch facing Perpetua.

"Which one ?"

"The one that wants my head on a spike."

Copia's chuckle surprises both of them, hangs heavy in the following silence. He clears his throat.

"...doesn't narrow it down much."

Perpetua tugs a glove off, nods toward the teeth imprint, jarring against pale skin.

"Had to get a new pair of gloves, he tore right through them. I hope he's not venemous."

Copia shakes his head, tugging his collar open with a tired sigh.

"The only one who's venemous is Pebble, and it's more a sedative than an actual life-threatening venom. What did you do to piss Dew off anyway ?"

Perpetua glares at Copia with an indignant huff, crossing his arm petulantly.

"I did absolutely nothing, that ghoul just wants me dead in a ditch. And how do you know it was him ?"

Copia rolls his eyes so hard it looks painful, slumping against the backrest with a scoff.

"Fucking V. Those are my ghouls, you don't think I know what their bites look like ?"

Perpetua blinks, slowly, hoping that within the pause he's allowing, Copia will realize how batshit insane that is. Apparently not, because the man just stares him down expectantly.

"...no ? Normal people don't just recognize bite marks ?"

Copia levels him with a stare, eyebrows raising.

"Since when the fuck am I considered normal ? This whole bloodline is freaks after freaks, you included, bat boy."

"Oh, so when Phantom's special interest is bats, or when you dress up as one, it's okay, but when I do, I'm weird ? Rat boy ?"

Perpetua knows he's pushing it, but despite his longing for an actual, non antagonistic reationship with his twin brother, he cannot help how annoyed he feels the second Copia gets snarky. The man in question throws him a dirty look.

"Do not drag Phantom into this."

Perpetua throws his glove at him, which lands with an objectively hilarious slapping noise square on the man's face.

"Oh, settle down, you dick, I meant no harm. He's actually the only one not actively trying to disembowel me."

Copia throws the glove back with a grunt. Not for the first time, Perpetua notices how much older than himself he looks, wiry grey strands running through his hair, deep wrinkles creasing his face. he finds no pleasure in this realization, only sadness and a wave of apprehension. Is it going to happen to me too ?

"He's too kind to you."

"Yes, yes, you think I deserve to get publicly executed for taking your place, I know, we've been over it already."

Though he's trying to play it off as light-hearted, bitterness crawls its way up Perpetua's throat as he says it. To his immense surprise, Copia blanches, straightening suddenly, hands clasping together compulsively.

"Don't joke about that shit," he snaps, voice tight. Strange. Copia's easily flustered, but he usually takes Perpetua's shit better than that. It's unusual to see him wringing his hands and mumbling to himself after just one sarcastic comment. It dawns on Perpetua there might be something else to it when he catches the haunted look on his brother's face, when he watches him get up and rip his gloves off to frantically wash his hands in a small sink hidden in the corner of the room.

"Why are you here ? Because I know you're not going to come crying to me everytime a ghoul bites you," Copia grumbles once he recomposed himself, gloves back on and face almost neutral. Perpetua toys with the fingers of his glove.

"Can't a man want to spend time with his brother ?"

Copia scoffs, kicking a cushion with a somber look.

"We're hardly more than strangers sharing genes."

Okay, ouch, but guess it's not that far from the truth. Perpetua sighs. To think he was considered petty as a child.

"Okay. We'll, i'd like for us to be actual brothers."

Copia tenses, shoulders raising toward his ears. His eyes are lost, far, far away from here, from this conversation. He doesn't sound snappy when he answer, but small. Sad.

"I had real brothers."

His hands are clasped again, with enough strenght to make the leather of his gloves creak. Perpetua leans forward in his seat, too earnest.

"Tell me about them. Tell me about Mom. Tell me about-"

"Trust me, you do not want to know shit about Dad."

But it's not a no. Copia's face scrunches up for a second as he glances at the empty space on his left, grumbling something that sounds a lot like "fuck off", though definitely not directed at Perpetua. It's not the first time he sees it happening, but he decides now is not the time to push his luck. Copia sighs, gesturing toward the man he insist on not calling his brother.

"What do you want to know ?"

Perpetua takes a deep breath, and asks.