#just know I’m always lurking ready for more

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

Part 5

"I'm waiting"

The days following Ghost’s departure were a blur. The hospital felt emptier without his presence lurking in the corners of my mind. I tried to return to normalcy, to be the wife I had been before—dutiful, polite, the woman my husband had married. But I wasn’t her anymore.

I felt like a stranger in my own skin. The life I had built, the routines I had followed without question, felt hollow now. Every conversation with my husband felt like an act. Every glance we shared felt forced.

He had noticed, of course.

One evening, I sat at the kitchen table, absentmindedly stirring my coffee, when my husband spoke.

“You’ve been different lately,” he said, his voice heavy with something unspoken. “You’re distant. You’re not the same.”

I didn’t look up, couldn’t meet his eyes. The weight of his words pressed down on me. He was right. I wasn’t the same. And I wasn’t sure I could go back to who I was.

“Is there something going on?” he pressed, his voice softer now, filled with concern—or maybe suspicion.

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to tell him everything, to lay bare the truth of what had been happening, to explain the hunger that had awakened in me. But I knew I couldn’t. Not yet. I wasn’t ready to face it, and I certainly wasn’t ready to face him.

“I’m just tired,” I said, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue.

He didn’t push further, but I could feel the distance growing between us. The weight of our silence settled like a fog in the house.

~~~

That night, I couldn’t sleep. The bed felt too wide without the presence of Ghost’s shadow haunting the edges of my mind. My thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion.

I had spent so many years suppressing my desires, ignoring the ache inside me for something more. For something darker. And then Ghost had come into my life, a whirlwind of power and control, pulling me into a world I hadn’t known I needed.

But now he was gone, and I was left with the wreckage of a life I wasn’t sure I wanted anymore.

I knew I had to make a decision.

I couldn’t stay like this. I couldn’t live this half-life, torn between the man I had married and the man who had awakened something deep within me.

I needed space. I needed to *feel*.

~~~

The next day, after a tense breakfast, I packed a small bag, throwing in a few clothes, my phone, and a notebook. When my husband left for work, I slipped out of the house, slipping into the quiet of the morning, escaping before he could notice.

I didn’t know where I was going or what I was looking for, but I knew I couldn’t stay. I drove aimlessly, my mind racing, until I reached a small, secluded hotel on the outskirts of the city.

I checked in under a false name, telling myself it was just temporary—that I was just taking time to think. But deep down, I knew what this was. This was me running from the life I had built. From the life that had always felt like a cage, a gilded one, but a cage nonetheless.

I spent the next few days in a haze of confusion, my mind constantly pulled between the past and the present. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ghost’s mask, felt the heat of his hands on me, the force of his kiss.

But then I’d open my eyes and remember my husband—the man who had been with me through everything, the man who didn’t deserve to be left in the dark. He had been a good husband, but I had grown too comfortable, too complacent, in a life that no longer fulfilled me.

~~~

On the fourth day, I stood in front of the hotel mirror, staring at my reflection. The woman who stared back at me was no longer the woman who had walked into this hotel room. She was someone else entirely—someone who had tasted passion, darkness, and power, and who couldn’t go back to the quiet life she once had.

I picked up my phone. I hadn’t heard from Ghost since he left, but I needed to know where he was, what he was doing. I needed to know if he still wanted me, if what we shared meant anything at all.

I typed a message, my fingers trembling.

*Where are you?*

For a long moment, I stared at the screen, willing him to reply.

And then, just as I was about to put the phone down, a message appeared:

*I’m waiting.*

The simplicity of his words, the command behind them, sent a jolt through my chest.

I knew, in that moment, what I had to do.

I had to choose.

But it was harder than expected... and I wasn't able to...

Part 6

[bleedingreverie]

Yandere x reader

TW: apocalypse, yandere, dub-con, creepy yandere, stalking.

The world had long since turned into ruins, with the dead stumbling through the streets and the living just as lost. You had become a creature of habit, a shadow moving through the remnants of what used to be, careful with each step, always wary of the dangers that lurked. People had become as much of a threat as the zombies. Trust was a rare currency, and you hadn’t used it in a long time.

It started on a supply run, the kind you did often now. The city was empty, save for the quiet groans from the abandoned streets. You’d gone into the store to gather what you could—a few cans, some water—when you felt the unmistakable sensation of being watched. You turned, half-expecting to see a group of looters, but no. There he stood.

At first, you dismissed him. He was just another survivor, someone trying to make it in a world that had no place for humanity. He had dark, disheveled hair and an air about him that didn’t scream “danger,” but there was something unsettling in his stillness. He didn’t move when you looked at him, only stared back, his eyes sharp like a predator assessing its prey.

You grabbed the supplies, moving as quickly as possible, but there he was again. Just standing at the corner of your vision, out of reach but always there. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was following you.

It wasn’t subtle.

At first, you tried to avoid him, taking turns down alleyways and doubling back, but no matter where you went, he appeared. Not in a rush, not in a panic. He moved slowly, almost deliberately, always just within your sight but never close enough to confront. At night, you’d hear the faintest scuffling, a rustle of fabric in the distance. And each time you turned to look, he was there, watching.

The unease gnawed at you. You had a sixth sense for these things, and this—this was wrong.

Then one night, you woke up in the dim light of an abandoned building. The silence was thick, only the distant growl of zombies to break it. You weren’t alone. Not anymore.

He stood in the doorway, silent as ever, the faintest sliver of moonlight outlining his figure.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, his voice calm, too calm. The tone was detached, like he was observing you, cataloging your every movement. It made your skin crawl.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you reached for the knife at your side, not pulling it out, but just enough to show him you were ready.

“I know you’ve noticed,” he continued, taking a slow step forward, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’ve noticed me, haven’t you? Following you.”

You tensed, every muscle locked in place, heart pounding in your chest. You had no idea how long he had been watching you, but the way he spoke as though it were nothing—like it was a fact, an inevitability—made your stomach churn.

“I don’t want any trouble,” you said, your voice low but firm, trying to sound confident, trying to keep him at arm’s length.

“Trouble?” His lips quirked slightly, like he was amused by your attempt at deflection. “You’ve had trouble, haven’t you? You’ve had more than enough. That’s why you’re alone.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. You were alone. Not by choice, but by necessity. Everyone you had once known, everyone you had trusted, had either fallen or disappeared. The world had turned into something twisted, and it had stripped away everything but the drive to survive.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he continued, his voice still that soft, measured tone. “I’m here to protect you. I’m the only one who understands. You’re smarter than the others. Stronger. That’s why you’re still alive. And I’ve been watching, learning. You need someone like me.”

“You’re insane,” you snapped, your grip tightening on the knife.

He smiled at that, an almost imperceptible curve of his lips, but there was no warmth in it, only cold calculation. “No. I’m not insane. I’m just… patient. I know what you need, even if you don’t. You’ve been alone for too long. It’s what you’re used to, but you don’t have to be anymore.”

You stood frozen, caught between the sharp sting of fear and the faintest, sickening curiosity. He was right. You had been alone too long, living on the edge of desperation, refusing to let anyone close. But he wasn’t offering comfort or companionship. He wasn’t offering anything but his presence, and that, in this broken world, felt both like salvation and a curse.

“I can’t trust you,” you said, your voice a little weaker than you’d like.

He didn’t seem to mind. His eyes softened just slightly, but there was still that same unnerving calm. “You will,” he replied, as though it was inevitable. “You’ll come to see that I’m the only one who can truly keep you safe. You don’t have to hide anymore. Not from me. Not from the world.”

“You’re wrong,” you shot back, taking a step back. “I don’t need anyone. Not you. Not anyone.”

He didn’t take a step forward. He didn’t need to. He just stood there, his gaze locking onto yours with that same unsettling certainty, like he could see right through you.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he murmured. “But I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

The room fell silent again, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. You could feel his eyes on you even as you turned away, the suffocating sense that he was always there, always just behind you.

He wasn’t wrong about one thing—he wasn’t going anywhere.

And no matter how hard you tried to run, you knew, deep down, that you were already trapped.

Insert:

Bnha: Deku, Shoto, Mirio, fat gum, all might.

Hxh: Illumi, Killua, Gon, Meruem, Hisoka.

[taktitty]

Andrew Minyard has cute aggression, pass it on

[monstersflashlight]

Imagining a night creature with a reader who's afraid of the dark

Hi! I like that. This made me think of the monster under the bed I answered a few days ago (find it here). Also, when you sent this I already had a semi-planned story with a girl in a dark street (find it here). But I also got some inspo for this. The idea of the reader being afraid of the dark and the monsters lurking there… What she doesn’t know is that the monsters there don’t want to hurt her, just tease her little human body. This is sweeter than I normally write, but I hope you like it!

Sleeping in the dark

Night monster x fem!reader || Stalking, overstimulation, forced orgasms

You were always afraid of the dark. You couldn’t remember a time in your life when you didn’t feel anxiety creeping in the back of your neck every time a street was too dark, your curtains a bit too closed… Some people laughed about it, saying you weren’t a kid anymore, a grown woman shouldn’t be scared of the dark. But you couldn’t fight your fears, it was beyond your control.

That’s why you got a little lamp, always turned on so you could sleep better. Just knowing you weren’t in complete darkness, even in your sleep, made you feel a bit better. But you weren’t a lucky person, so when you woke in the middle of the night and the lamp was turned off, your anxiety picked with full force. Tears ran down your face instantly, your breath coming in fast exhales, almost hyperventilating.

“Hey, hey. Calm down.” A voice came from inside your closet, making you scream as a dark figure opened the door and stepped out. “Shhh, stop! I’m not here to hurt you.” He tried, but you opened your mouth to scream again. He crossed the room in two fast steps and covered your mouth with a hand as big as your whole face. “I’m trying to help, but you need to stop screaming. Are you going to scream if I let go?” You shook your head, tears rolling down your face.

“Aw, little human, don’t cry.” He pleaded, his voice soft as you felt his weight sitting down on the bed. You moved away, scared.

“The- the dark. It’s so dark.” You hiccuped between sobs. “Can you turn on the lights?” You asked, already knowing his answer.

“The dark is okay. I like the dark. You aren’t ready to see me, yet.” He told you. You didn’t know if you wanted to see him either. You were scared enough, but his presence was weirdly calming.

“Who are you?” You asked then, equal parts scared and curious. He didn’t answer, silence making you wanna tear up again. “Am I dreaming?” You asked, more to yourself than to him.

“No, you are not.” He answered, his voice closer than you expected, like he was right next to you.

You jumped back, almost falling down. “Are you a monster?”

He sighed, like the weight of the world was over him. “Some call me that, yeah.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” You didn’t know why you asked, he could hurt you if he wanted, and you couldn’t do shit about it. But you felt calm, like his presence was okay. Some primal part inside of you trusted him, and as naive as it was, you did. You trusted the shadows in front of you, the dark figure that you couldn't even see.

“No, little human. I would never hurt you. But I can help you.” His voice was so soft that you relaxed completely, your body giving away all the tension, leaving you feeling dizzy.

That picked your interest. “Help me how?”

“I can distract you from the fear.” The innuendo on his voice was more than clear.

But you asked anyway: “Ho- how?” Your voice broke down as you tried to be brave, tried to make sense of the mixed feelings inside of you.

“Can I touch you, little human?” You nodded. You couldn’t see his face, but you guessed he could see yours if he told you not to cry. A hand touched your knee, traveling up and up. The flimsy dress you were wearing was put aside as his hand touched the hem of your panties. “Is this okay?” You nodded, speechless.

You couldn’t comprehend why you were so pliant to his touch, but you just knew. You knew he was telling the truth, he didn’t want to hurt you. He pulled your panties aside, exposing your pussy to the air. A shiver ran down your spine as his pointy fingers touched your clit.

“I saw you touch this tiny pearl so many times… You looked so happy when you did.” He told you, rubbing your clit in the exact same way you did. “I’ve been watching you for so long. I studied your every move.” He pushed a finger inside of you, curving it to hit the perfect place. “It pained me to see you touch yourself and not being able to help. To be the one giving you pleasure. But now… Now I can, little human.” The idea of him watching you jerk off making your pussy tingle, convulsing against the finger inside of you. “You like that? You like knowing I was watching? You are a little pervert.” He laughed softly. You blushed.

His fingers were so much longer than yours, almost as long as your biggest dildo, but not so thick. He finger fucked you for a bit, humming and cooing at your reactions. Like you were a cute puppy doing a new trick, amazed when you cried out and repeating the move over and over as you came.

When you calmed down, he asked: “Can I fuck you, little human?” His fingers were still inside of you, rubbing softly, not trying to fuck you, just resting inside.

“Yes.” You choked out as he took his fingers out and felt his weight setting over you. He positioned himself and started pushing in slowly. “You… It feels weird.” You whispered, he chuckled. “My dick is not like the human ones. I have… ridges.” He pushed further, the aforementioned ridges rubbing against your walls and making you moan. “Do they please you?” You tried to answer, but the only sound that escaped your lips was a broken moan. He took that as a yes and started fucking you, slow but deep.

It wasn’t enough. “Faster. Harder.” You pleaded. He complied, setting a fast pace that made your boobs bounce up and down, almost hitting your chin. His hands on your hips were going to bruise, but you didn’t care. He had the perfect dick, even better than the tentacle dildo you always used.

Before you knew it, you were falling apart around him, his dick twitching as he came, too. But he didn’t stop, his dick still hard inside of you. He waited for a few seconds and started fucking you again. You didn’t know how he could keep fucking, how his dick was still hard, but you wanted to thank whoever created him for giving him that stamina. He fucked you over and over, for what felt like hours.

After what felt like a hundred orgasms, maybe they were, your oversensitive clit felt raw. Your pussy felt used and abused, but the pleasure was still there, almost painful. He kept asking you to come again, to let him feel your pussy contracting around him. To let him fill you again. And again. And again.

“I can’t anymore. Please…” You begged. You came so many times you lost count.

“Just one more, little human. One more and I’ll stop.” He told you, his pace not flattering for even a second.

You felt tears running down your face. “I can’t.” You choked out, your body spent. But he kept going. He rubbed your clit furiously, using his come as lube. Your last orgasm was pushed out of you, he forced you to come around his dick, almost to the point of pain. You cried as you came, so sensitive and tired… He wiped the tears away as he buried himself deep and came again, adding to your overflowing pussy.

He pulled out slowly and disappeared. Appearing seconds later with a warm cloth to clean some of the mess between your thighs.

“Would you stay?” You whispered, grabbing around his wrist still cleaning you up.

“Sure thing, little human.” He whispered back, his body curling around yours two seconds later.

For the first time in your life, you slept in the dark, a monster guarding you.

Part 2 can be found here.

[callmecoke]

sugar baby headcanons!

CW: Mention of sex work, This is sfw generally but still deals with adult topics so proceed with caution.

Tf141 x reader

What you’ve realised about your favourite mystery account is that A) it's run by multiple people, and B) At least one of them is called Price.

You can’t exactly pinpoint who the rest are or how many, but you’ve managed to identify a few common themes when interacting with the account.

First, you know who Price is, and you can almost always tell it's him when he’s interacting with you. He’s the one you go to first regarding bills and fees you physically can’t pay. Within seconds, he transfers you the money and never lets you thank him for any of it. He also does his weekly check-ins to make sure everything is good. “Have you eaten?” “How’d you sleep?” “Did you take your meds last night?” That kind of thing. He’s also the one who calls you ‘Dolly’, a nickname he reserved for you. 

But you're also pretty sure this other guy (Simon) lurks in the chat when you’re streaming. He won’t ask questions; he just sends you random tips throughout the stream while he watches silently. He’s not as talkative as Price or the others, and that’s kind of how you know it's him. But you’ve realised that just because he’s quiet doesn't mean he doesn't want to talk. It’s quite the opposite. He enjoys hearing you talk about your life and day and silently rewards you. When you DM him, you even get a little conversation. Nothing more than money and a “Nice”, but still conversation nonetheless.

You know one other fellow spends most of his time in the livestreams and not in your DMs (Gaz). He’s the one who engages with you in conversation the most, asking endless questions about your life. And he always comes back on the next live stream, remembering everything you said in the last. He’ll want the update on that project you were working on for school or if that job interview went as well as you both had hoped. If you weren’t Live to complete strangers, you’d probably open up to him about stuff you’ve never told anyone.

Now…One more person shows up now and again, mainly in your DMs. Part of the service for the website is that people can pay you to take a selfie and give it to them. They can be dirty or completely innocent; it all depends on what you’re advertising. There’s this one person who rather frequently asks for pictures of you, especially those with you smiling. You know it’s a different guy from the others you’ve spotted because he’s the only one who's outright flirtatious with you. Initially, you were wary. A man spending a lot of money on pictures of your face and upper body just screams trouble. But you grew to trust the account, so when you sent them the image, you were surprised by how quickly he showered you with praise.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’ll give a strong man a heart attack walking around that gorgous.”

“Makes me wonder how cute you look in person.” “I’m surprised no ones come along and snatched you up all ready. Can’t complain though. Means I get more of you to myself.”

You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a slight blush on your cheeks after reading his responses.

[bunny-1111]

Did I stutter? TN x fem!reader Part 2.

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

WARNING: SMUTTTT, Reader discretion (18+) NO MINORSSSSSSS PLS

Authors note: first smut kinda nervous... this is a long one, I hope y'all enjoy <3

Part one here

reblogs, likes and comments appreciated my loves <3

...

What the fuck now, you think, making your way to the common room.

You shake your head, trying to clear the confusion, but it’s useless. Theo’s always been hard to read, kept his cards too close to his chest, but this feels different—like he’s dropped the mask just enough for you to glimpse something darker lurking beneath. Something you’re not sure how to deal with, what the fuck is next, this sudden dominance is not hard to accept but hard to understand.

When you finally return to the common room, Pansy lounges on one of the sofas, flipping through a magazine. She barely looks up when you enter.

“Well? Did he say anything?” she asks, her voice dripping with casual curiosity, but you know her well enough to recognise the gleam of mischief in her eyes.

"How did you even see us having a conversation?" you enquire, brows furrowing

"I saw you walk past, then I saw Theo walk back The opposite way with a tiny but telling smile on his face", she smiles "So tell me, what did he say? Did he ask you to the dance?" she continues.

You toss your bag onto the floor, sinking into the chair opposite her. “No, not exactly,” you mutter, more confused than ever. Your mind still replaying the look Theo gave you, the way he practically claimed you without saying a word.

Pansy arches an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your lack of gossip. “Not exactly? That doesn’t sound like nothing. Come on, spill.”

You bite your lip, hesitating. “He asked if anyone had asked me, and when I said no, he said… ‘Good. Keep it that way.’” The words feel strange in your mouth as if they don’t belong to a casual conversation but something heavier and more serious.

Pansy stares at you for a moment, then her lips curl into a knowing smirk. “Oh, that’s rich. Typical Theo.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

Pansy tosses the magazine aside, leaning forward like she’s about to reveal some grand secret. “He’s marking his territory, babe. Telling you not to go with anyone else, without actually having the guts to ask you himself.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words. Could she be right? Was Theo staking some kind of silent claim over you? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, and not entirely out of fear. There’s a part of you—a part you’re not sure you’re ready to admit to—that likes the idea of being claimed by him.

But that doesn’t mean you’re okay with the way he’s going about it.

“So what?” you say, exasperation creeping into your voice. “He’s just going to tell me to wait around for him while he ignores me at the ball?”

Pansy shrugs, unbothered. “Pretty much. That’s how these boys work. They want you, but they’re too proud to ask. So they’ll just… hover.”

You roll your eyes, sinking further into the chair. “I’m not going to just sit here and wait for him to make up his mind.”

Pansy grins, eyes twinkling with something dangerous. “Then don’t. Go with someone else. Let him squirm.”

The idea sounds thrilling, but you know it’s not that simple. Theo’s not the kind of guy you can make squirm. He’s the kind that would shut down any attempt to get under his skin, the kind who would lash out rather than admit any kind of weakness. And yet, the thought of pushing him—of seeing just how far he’ll go to keep you—lights a fire in your chest.

That's what you will do. Push him until he can't hold off any longer.

Toying with Theo was a dangerous game to play, even if you knew that, but if he's just going to sit there and not make anything happen, then, fuck, you need to take matters into your own hands.

Yes, you could just do the normal thing and pull him aside for a conversation, but now, where's the fun in that?

The next day, arriving at charms class, you don't take your usual seat with Theo and your friends. Instead, you skip over and find a place next to Anthony Goldstein, a cute Ravenclaw boy, who you knew would piss Theo off.

"Morning", you smile at Anthony. He looks at you, confused but excited.

"Good morning," he returns, starting what would become a cheerful conversation. As you laugh and talk throughout the class, you quickly glance over at a visibly upset Theodore and a very wide-smiling pansy. She knew what you were doing, and Theodore was catching on, too.

Theo’s eyes are burning holes into the back of your head, and you can feel it. Every time you lean in a little closer to Anthony, let out a laugh that’s just a touch too loud; you know Theo’s watching. It’s exactly what you wanted—his attention, focus, and jealousy. But now that you have it, it’s making your skin prickle in anticipation in a way you hadn’t fully prepared for.

Anthony’s sweet, too sweet. He’s charming, and he’s kind, but he’s not Theo. There’s no edge to him, no danger. And while the conversation flows easily enough, your mind keeps drifting back to the boy brooding in the corner, whose eyes haven’t left you since the class began. You know he’s seething. Good. He should be. He warned you to keep away from any guy who could want something off you, but you weren’t getting enough out of Theo, so he pushed this out of you, you determine. 

As the class drags on, you notice the shift in the air. Theo’s presence feels suffocating, almost predatory like he’s just waiting for the right moment to pounce. You can’t help but glance over again, meeting his gaze for just a second—long enough to see the storm brewing behind his eyes. His jaw is clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the desk, and for a second, you think he might snap right there in the middle of class, but he doesn’t. He’s controlled, as always. And that only frustrates you more.

You knew you were aggravating him. You have no idea what the consequences are; you have a feeling brewing in your chest that you would find out sooner than later. 

When your professor dismisses the class, you gather your things slowly, lingering by Anthony’s side, pretending not to notice the way Theo’s already standing by the door, waiting for you. Anthony smiles, oblivious, and asks if you’d like to walk to the Great Hall with him. You almost say yes, just to push Theo a little further, but before the words leave your mouth, you feel a hand wrap firmly around your wrist.

You turn to see Theo, his eyes dark and dangerous, staring down at you with a look that makes your heart race.

“We need to talk,” he says, his voice low and commanding.

You don’t even have a chance to respond before he’s tugging you out of the classroom, pulling you through the corridors, a man on a mission. You stumble to keep up, your mind racing to catch up with him, but there’s no mistaking the tension in the air now. He’s pissed. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you wanted.

When he drags you into a broom closet and slams the door behind you, your pulse is pounding in your ears. Theo’s still gripping your wrist, his fingers tight around your skin, and when he finally lets go, your breathe was still held tight, like he was the one who could allow you to exhale 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snaps, his voice cold, but his eyes—God, his eyes are on fire.

You straighten up, refusing to back down. “What do you mean?”

Theo takes a step closer, his chest brushing against yours as he looms over you. “You know exactly what I mean,” he growls. “Sitting with Goldstein. Laughing with him. What was that, huh? Trying to make me jealous?”

You raise an eyebrow, refusing to show how much his proximity affects you. “Is it working?”

His jaw ticks, and for a moment, you think he might lose control. But then he surprises you—he leans in even closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “You want to play games, fine. But you’re playing with fire, sweetheart. And I don’t think you’re ready for what happens next.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again. The tension between you is electric, and you can feel the heat radiating off of him, the way his body is coiled, ready to snap. You know you’ve pushed him to the edge, but you’re not backing down now. Not when you’ve come this far.

“I think I can handle it,” you challenge, your voice barely above a whisper, but it’s enough. It’s enough to break whatever restraint Theo’s been holding onto.

“Are you sure?” he stalks even closer, leaning down to you, his fingers forcing your face up to his all you can do it nod as an unexpected wave of shyness hits you. Your heart drops when you hear a gentle but quick knock on the door, please, you think no one interrupts what might just finally happen. You both look at the twisting door knob, silence falls. 

“Hey, it everything ok in here? It’s Anthony” your heart drops, Theo might spiral. 

His hands loop around you, pushing you behind him, opening the door, “Everything's just fine. You don’t go following girls into broom closets all the time, do you? Shes with me. Now fuck far off,” Theo replied, slamming the door in his face. 

You hear his footsteps quickly rush off  

He flicks the lock of the door so quickly, so quick to kiss you that anything you feel melts away, in an instant, his hands are on you, gripping your waist, pulling you against him with a force that knocks the air out of your lungs. His lips crash against yours, rough and demanding, like he’s finally letting go of everything he’s been holding back. You don’t even have time to think before you kiss him back, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, harder, deeper.

It’s all heat and intensity, a wild storm brewing for far too long. Theo’s hands roam over your body, possessive and hungry, like he’s claiming every inch of you as his, his lips never leaving yours as his hands work quickly, almost frantically, to tug at the hem of your shirt. You gasp as his fingers brush against your skin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. Theo pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and hooded with desire.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice thick with possessiveness.

You nod, breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m yours.”

That’s all he needs to hear. In one swift motion, he lifts you onto a surface, everything happening so fast you dont even know what he’s sat you on; all you can focus on is his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher as he moves between your legs. His lips are on your neck now, kissing, biting, leaving marks that you know will be there tomorrow. 

Your hands fumble with his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. When you finally get it off, you run your hands over the hard planes of his chest, savouring the way his muscles tense under your touch. Theo groans against your neck, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave bruises. But you don’t care. You want more. You need more.

“Theo,” you gasp, arching your back as his lips trail lower, his hands working quickly to undo the buttons of your blouse. He doesn’t waste any time, pulling it off and tossing it aside before his mouth finds your skin again.

He’s everywhere—his hands, lips, teeth—and it’s all too much, not enough. You’re dizzy with it, consumed by him, by the way, he touches you like he’s been starving for it. For you.

He only stops for a second, his lips not far from yours but far enough to speak, “I can’t take you in a broom closet, alright? Let’s go to my dorm; you’ll be more comfortable” he quickly says, almost out of breath. 

“Theo” you mutter “You can take me anywhere. Here’s just fine, please, I can’t wait anymore, please, I don’t want to waste another second” you whine, quickly joining your lips together again. 

He doesn’t protest; when he finally pulls back, his breathing is ragged, his eyes dark and heavy with desire. “You’re mine,” he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. “Fuck, no one else gets to touch you. Understand?”

You nod, your heart racing as you reach for him again, pulling him back to you. “Only you.”

And then his lips are on yours again, and there’s no going back this time.

Theo’s mouth crashes against yours with even more intensity, his hands gripping your hips as though he can’t stand the thought of being apart from you for even a second. It’s not just a kiss anymore—it’s a declaration of something raw and primal that neither of you have the strength to fight off any longer.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate to feel every inch of him against you. You can feel the hard press of his body against yours, and it sends a wave of heat through you so intense it makes your head spin. His hands slide up your thighs, slipping under your skirt, and your breath hitches as his fingers brush over the thin fabric of your underwear. You can feel the smirk on his lips as he pulls back just enough to look at you.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice rough, eyes dark with desire as they roam over your flushed face. “All worked up for me, and I’ve barely even touched you.”

You want to come up with some smart reply, something to challenge him, but all that comes out is a soft whimper as his fingers tease the edge of your underwear, barely grazing where you need him most. Your body arches and pulses into his touch, silently begging for more, and Theo’s smirk deepens.

“Patience,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. “I’ll give you what you want, but you must tell me what you want.”

Your pride screams at you not to give in, not to let him have that satisfaction, but the ache between your legs is too much. You need him, now. So, you swallow your pride, your voice coming out in a shaky whisper.

“Please, Theo. Please”

“Tsk tsk tsk, please, what? Come on, words, sweet thing,”

“I need you to touch me Teddy, need to feel you” You practically whimper 

Your pleading seems to flip a switch in him, and suddenly his teasing stops. His fingers slip under the fabric, brushing against your soaked core, and you gasp, your head falling back as the sensation sends sparks shooting through your body

“Good girl,” he growls, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck as his fingers begin to move in slow, deliberate circles. “So fucking perfect for me.”

Your hands grip his back exposed, your body trembling as his fingers work you over with an expert precision that makes it clear he’s been thinking about this for a long time. You can barely breathe, your mind going fuzzy from the overwhelming pleasure as Theo’s thumb presses against your clit, drawing out a moan that you can’t hold back.

“Look at you,” he mutters, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he watches the way your body reacts to his touch. “Falling apart for me already. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

His words, combined with the relentless pressure of his fingers, send you spiralling closer and closer to the edge, your body tightening with the mounting tension. You can feel it building, coiling in your stomach like a spring ready to snap, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you fall over the edge.

Theo must sense it too, because his pace quickens, his fingers moving faster, harder, and his lips find yours again, swallowing your moans as you cling to him. Your entire body is on fire, the pleasure so intense it feels like you might break apart at any second, and then, finally, you do.

The it hits you like a wave, crashing over you with a force that steals the breath from your lungs. You cry out, your nails digging into Theo’s shoulders as your body trembles beneath him, completely lost in the sensation. Theo doesn’t let up, his fingers continuing their steady rhythm as he helps you ride out every last shudder of pleasure. You can’t help but sink your teeth into his shoulder.

By the time it finally fades, you’re left panting, your body limp and spent as you rest against the desk, your forehead pressed against Theo’s shoulder. He’s breathing hard too, his chest rising and falling in time with yours, but there’s a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he looks down at you.

“You’re mine,” he repeats, his voice a low growl as he brushes a strand of hair away from your flushed face. “No one else. Ever.”

You nod, still catching your breath, your heart racing in your chest. “Only yours,” you whisper, and you mean it.

Theo leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, and for a moment, the intensity between you softens. His hands, once rough and demanding, now hold you gently, tenderly, like he’s afraid of breaking you. And in this moment, you realise just how deep his feelings for you run, how much he’s been holding back.

“You don’t have to make me jealous to get my attention,” he murmurs against your lips, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin. “You’ve had it from the start.”

You smile against his mouth, your hands sliding up to cup his face, pulling him into a deeper kiss. It’s softer now, slower, but no less intense. Because even though Theo might be possessive and a little rough around the edges, you know that this, you, means more to him than he’s ever let on.

“Let's go to my dorm, alright? Get you cleaned up,” he smiles, leading you out of the now very messy broom cupboard. To your surprise, Anthony is waiting for you a few metres up; Theo moves your body to the other side of him so that it is Theo that is closest to him. When you both walk straight past him he casually says, “Don’t worry about that piece of shit, Ravenclaw, I’ll fix him up tomorrow.” You wondered if that should worry you, not a problem for right now though, your mind still racing with lust and love. 

The next morning, you wake up with a warm, almost surreal feeling in your chest. Everything feels different, like the air’s lighter, the world softer, and it’s all because of him. Theo. Yesterday's intensity, the way his hands gripped you like he’d never let go, still lingers on your skin like a secret that only the two of you share. You stretch out on your bed, staring at the ceiling, letting the memories replay in your head. You can’t help but smile as your body remembers the feeling.

But then, of course, reality hits you in the form of Pansy bloody Parkinson.

She barges into the dorm room with all the subtlety of a troll, her arms full of bags from her morning Hogsmeade run. Merlin, that girl has a shopping addiction. "Good morning, sunshine," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she drops the bags onto her bed. "You’re glowing. What did you do? Save a baby unicorn?"

You roll your eyes, pulling the covers up to your chin, trying to hide the ridiculous grin that’s threatening to spill across your face. But Pansy, being Pansy, is like a bloodhound when it comes to sniffing out drama, and she narrows her eyes at you.

"Hold on," she says, pausing mid-unpacking, one perfectly manicured hand on her hip. "What is that look? That is not a ‘just got a full night’s sleep’ look. That is a someone rocked my world last night look."

You burst into laughter, but it’s the nerves that I’m hiding something kind of laugh, and Pansy’s eyes widen like she’s hit the jackpot.

"No fucking way." She abandons her bags completely, climbing onto your bed and sitting cross-legged before you. "Spill. Now."

You bite your lip, wondering how in Merlin's name you’re going to explain this without sounding completely insane. But then again, it’s Pansy. There’s no hiding anything from her, and part of you wants to tell her, to relive every second of it by saying it out loud. So, you do.

"It was Theo," you admit quietly, your heart racing as the words leave your mouth. "Yesterday. We… we hooked up."

Pansy’s jaw drops so hard you’re pretty sure you hear it hit the floor. "Theo? As in Theo Nott? The same Theo who’s been brooding over you for months and never made a move?"

You nod, feeling your face heat up under her gaze. "Yeah, that Theo."

For a moment, Pansy is entirely silent, just staring at you like she’s processing this monumental piece of information. Then, suddenly, she lets out a shriek so loud it probably wakes up half the castle.

"Holy shit!" she squeals, grabbing your hands and bouncing on the bed like an excited child. "I knew it! I fucking knew he had it bad for you! So? Was it amazing? Was he, like, all dominating and rough like I always imagined? Tell me everything!"

You laugh, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you think about last night—the way Theo touched you, the way he claimed you, like he’d been holding back for so long and finally couldn’t anymore.

"It was…" You pause, searching for the right word. "Intense. And, yeah, he was definitely possessive. He kept saying I was his."

Pansy squeals again, throwing herself back onto the bed dramatically. "I knew it! I knew that brooding, quiet thing was just a front. Ok, you’re my best friend you owe me the whole story, Don’t miss a detail."  as you explain step by step you watch her eyes widen and her smile grow

Before you can say anything else, there’s a knock on the door. Matteo and Blaise stroll in without waiting for an invitation, looking far too smug for your liking. Blaise immediately heads for Pansy’s bed, flopping down like he owns the place, while Matteo leans against the dresser, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"What’s with the giddy shrieks?" Blaise asks, raising an eyebrow. "You two plotting something evil this early in the morning? We haven’t even had breakfast yet"

Pansy rolls her eyes dramatically. "Oh, please. We don’t need to plot evil. It just comes naturally."

Matteo snickers, but his eyes flick to you, narrowing slightly. "Wait a minute… what’s going on? Why does she look all… flustered?"

Before you can even think of a response, Pansy, being the absolute traitor that she is, jumps in with, "Oh, didn’t you hear? Our girl here finally got some action. With Theo."

Matteo and Blaise both freeze, staring at you in shock. For a split second, there’s dead silence, and then, like a synchronised team, they both throw their heads back and shout, "Finally!"

Your eyes widen as Blaise shakes his head in disbelief. "I was starting to think you two would just brood at each other for the rest of eternity."

Matteo crosses the room, sitting on the edge of your bed and giving you a playful shove. "Took you long enough."

You groan, burying your face in your hands. "Can everyone just stop? This is mortifying."

"Mortifying?" Matteo laughs. "No, what’s mortifying is how long you two have been dancing around each other. Honestly, I’m just relieved one of you finally made a move."

Blaise leans back against Pansy’s bed, smirking. "Yeah, we’ve been placing bets on when it would happen. Matteo won, by the way."

You look up, horrified. "You’ve been betting on us?"

"Of course we have," Pansy says, grinning. "It’s been, like, the slowest burn of the century."

You sigh, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. As much as they’re embarrassing you right now, there’s something comforting in the way your friends are reacting—like they’ve all been rooting for this to happen as much as you have.

Blaise stands, giving you a teasing salute. "Well, I’ll leave you to bask in your post-Theo high. Just… try not to kill each other, yeah?"

Matteo follows him out the door, tossing one last look over his shoulder. "Finally."

Once they’re gone, you collapse back onto the bed, shaking your head. "I can’t believe them."

Pansy grins, lying next to you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I can. We’ve been watching this unfold for ages. I’m so happy for you."

“Thank you Pans”, you smile, turning as you lay closer next to her 

“Oh! I heard the most unusual thing this morning. Draco told me,” she starts 

“Go on” you giggle 

“That Anthony Goldstein practically crawled to the hospital wing this morning, black eye, bloody shirt, it seemed pretty ruff” she continued “wait, weren't you sitting by him just yesterday?” you remembered. 

Oh, Theo, he did indeed ‘take care of it’.

[larrylimericks]

19Oct24

No matter how mad the word made us, It always held hope — a “hiatus.”

I’m sad for so many reasons — the fundamental sadness of death, and at such a young age; having to process the mortality of someone so extraordinary it seems they should transcend a fate as ordinary as dying; aching for his family and friends; angry that he had to navigate such a cruel world, one that continues to disrespect him in death. Yes, Liam was damaged and in turn damaged others; he had demons to face and amends to make — I like to think he would have, given a chance. His talent was so immense, and there was so much more to come. I believe he would have found a way to redemption, and then had such a beautiful renaissance.

The joy of being a 1D fan has always been policed and mocked. We’ve so frequently been laughed at, dismissed for the intensity of our love for the band. And now, the world wants to do the same with our grief, questioning its legitimacy, trivializing our feelings. But this loss is real. And this grief is valid.

And the grief of losing Liam is compounded by the grief of losing so much else. He wasn’t just a celebrity. They weren’t just a boyband. He was an integral part of an integral part of our formative years — no matter how old we were when we found them. So many of us are the people we are in part because of the people they are. Were. We’ve lost a beloved one, we’ve lost innocence, we’ve lost inspiration, we’ve lost a piece of our foundation.

We’ve lost hope.

It used to frustrate me, in retrospect, that they called it a “hiatus.” It felt dishonest — like a gentle lie to let us down easy. Why couldn’t they just say it was over? That being a boy band has a built-in shelf life, and it was time to explore solo careers. But now I understand the kindness in that word. For hope springs eternal, and it didn’t matter if it never came. All that matters was that it might. And “hiatus” wasn’t just for us; it held their optimism too. Especially Liam’s. It left the door open, even if only a crack, for the possibility of something more.

It’s been a remarkable gift to watch each one find his own path and his own voice. But when they announced a hiatus in 2015, they planted a seed of hope that someday we’d see the unrivaled magic of those boys on stage together again — the greatest team the world has ever seen. Maybe Zayn would join, probably not. Maybe it would’ve been a one-off thing for charity or a special anniversary. Maybe it would be in their 50s when the allure of easy money from a reunion tour was too tempting to resist. But surely, eventually, 1D would reunite in some capacity. I was excited to see how their once frenetic energy and youthful antics would meld with the mature solo artists they’ve become.

That hope sustained us through 18 months and eventually eight years, but now the hiatus is over. I would have happily clowned for every remaining day of my life than know this new certainty brought by the finality of Liam’s death. Maybe, someday, there will be a memorial performance. Maybe we’ll see three or four out of five come together to honor him — and what a poignant testament it will be that Liam was what could bring them together. Or maybe it will never feel right to them to take the stage without him, and that, too, will make all the sense in the world.

I wish I had an uplifting ending for this post. I don’t. I wake up and my first thought is “Liam isn’t here anymore,” and then I go about my day with that relentless realization lurking around the corner of every mundane task I do.

I haven’t been able to listen to their music yet. It’s a cruel trick that the thing that always brought comfort is now a trigger for grief. But I hope that will soon change. That, at some point, I’ll put on WMYB, get choked up at “You’re insecure” and second-guess my readiness. But then jump to History, and find solace in the lyrics that are currently rattling around my brain but aren’t ready to be heard yet: “This is not the end, this is not the end” … “We can live forever.”

❯❯❯❯

[epigstolary]

Rebound

It has to hurt to see what you look like now. All the shapeless mounds of fat weighing you down, distorting what was, until fairly recently, an average figure. You were so close to getting back to a normal weight, too — years of struggling to come down from a size at which you couldn’t lumber more than a few feet before getting red-faced and breaking out in a sweat. And you did it; somehow, you got yourself small enough to be able to shop in regular clothing stores again, and to not even need to buy their biggest sizes. Everyone was so proud of you. Telling you how good you looked. How much healthier it was to be this size. How much happier you had to be, now that you could move around and be active again. You’d beaten obesity.

Except you hadn’t, had you? Because every diet fails eventually, and fat doesn’t go away. Fat cells shrink when you diet. They quiet down when you restrain your appetite. And then they wait, lurking in that slender body, disguised by loose skin. Waiting for their moment to come back with a vengeance.

You may not even remember what triggered it now — maybe it was a really rough couple of days at work, maybe a relationship disappointment, maybe drama with family or friends. But something made you take two cheat days in a row, just to treat yourself a little and make up for everything crappy you’d had to deal with lately. And that was all it took to wake the monster sleeping inside you.

A couple of cheat days turned into having snacks around that you hadn’t allowed yourself since you started losing weight — because you had things under control, right? Portion sizes started creeping upward again, and fattier, carbier foods started replacing the lean meats and fresh veggies that helped you shed the pounds in the first place — because you lost it before, so you can lose it again if you need to, right? You went easier on yourself, skipping morning walks and trips to the gym with increasing frequency, giving yourself fewer and fewer opportunities to burn all the excess calories you’d started dumping down your throat again — because you were always going to make up for the missed sessions at some point, right? At least, those were the ways you rationalized your backsliding to yourself.

You probably didn’t know this before, but regains are a bitch. Your body’s felt you starving for years — that’s all a diet is, as far as it’s concerned — and now the famine’s over. Food’s abundant again. Time to eat and try to get you ready for the next famine, which it has no way of knowing is never coming, unfortunately for you. Every calorie it can spare from keeping you alive gets absorbed into those fat cells that used to be dormant. The weight packs on faster than it ever went away. And almost before you realize it, your puffy belly is back, your ass is filling up more of your pants, and your thunder thighs and double chin are beginning to make their appearance.

I’m sure you tried to get things back under control once you realized what was happening. You tried to get back out there and exercise again once your girth started popping buttons and tearing the seat out of pants, and you had to pull your fat clothes out of storage. You tried to eat better and ignore the cravings for everything high in fat and sugar and everything bad for you when your love handles and bingo wings and thunder thighs started rubbing against chair arms and door frames in a way they hadn’t for a long time. And then, once all of that had failed, you tried to simply ignore what was happening — to pay no attention to how your body was ballooning up to fill even your fat clothes; how difficult it was to heave your hanging belly and plump ass up and haul it wherever you needed to go; how the face in the mirror wasn’t the thin, lean, angular one you’d gotten used to seeing, but the bloated, pinched, bulbous fat face set atop a cascade of double chins that you thought you’d never have to look at again. Just muddle through, you must have thought, and eventually you’ll get a handle on this.

How’d all that work out for you? Not great, judging by the way you look now. Those legs that look like pinched sacks of custard, almost too blobby and bulky to move, don’t exactly signal someone in control of their situation. Neither does the enormous, wobbling belly spreading out over your knee folds and across the bed, or the hips bulging out at either side like melting lumps of dough overflowing a mold. And the double chins, resting on two massive boobs each the size of a fat belly in their own right, squeezed by the fat of pillowy arms plopped uselessly at either side — well, all that hardly looks like someone keeping their weight in check with responsible diet and exercise. I’m gonna guess you’re not, are you?

That’s why you had to call me in. Trust me, I see people just like you all the time. Weight’s bounced around for years, they’ve tried to diet and exercise, sometimes it’s worked for a while; but eventually, it spirals out of control. Like this. Really, you probably would have been better off if you’d just accepted being sort of fat. Beats wrecking your metabolism with a crash diet and dealing with the rebound effect — getting really, really fat like this. And now you need someone to help with all the things that you’re much too big, much too heavy to do.

I’m also supposed to help you manage your diet, get some physical activity, see if we can keep what mobility you have and try to recover more. But… that’s not really my style. See, I’ve also been around enough people like you to know that there’s no real way of coming back from this. Sure, I could probably get you to lose some weight, get you down to a size where you can wedge your flab behind the wheel of a car or cram it into the seat of a mobility scooter, get you back into the world for a while. But we both know you can’t stick to that, don’t we? The same habits that got you into this situation to begin with are going to blow you right back up into the same helpless fatty again eventually, aren’t they? Matter of time. And just imagine what a second rebound like this one would do to you! You’re already most of the way to a half-ton; another yo-yo, and you’re down for the count, immobilized probably forever under more fat than even the two of us can hope to handle.

I’d hate to see that happen to you; no lie, I really would. So I’ll make you a deal. You give up on trying to slim down to a normal weight, and you accept that you’re going to be a housebound blob from here on out. Forget about the diet and exercises, and make your peace with filling out most of a king bed by yourself. Do all that, let me take the wheel, and I’ll make sure you have everything you might need — and I do mean everything. I think you’ll find it a lot more comfortable that way.

I take it that’s a no? Listen, there’s no need to be personally insulting. Remember, I’m not the one who fattened you up like a prize pig, too big to reach the bottom of your belly, too fat to move without totally exhausting yourself — that was all you. So fine; we’ll do it your way. Get you losing weight for a while. But remember how easy it is to gain weight back on the rebound. And remember who’s really controlling your diet and your activity. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when your belly’s down to your feet, your arms are too bloated to move, and you’re smothered under half a ton of lard.

Remember — regains are a bitch.

[literaila]

hey v ! what about peter and reader getting ready to go somewhere and after reader puts on some red lipstick peter can't stop kissing her ?

lipstick

warnings: ugh, peter

*

“how many times have you done that?”

peter is standing behind you, leaning against the wall, probably ruining your focus, or your makeup, or your sanity. he’s probably staring just to mess with you.

you refrain from smiling in the mirror. wipe a smudge with your nail. “i don’t know, peter,” you meet his eyes, and his nefarious smirk. “how many times have you watched me do it?”

“i got lost somewhere around the first time.”

you laugh at him, crumbling the napkin you’ve been using, now filled with kiss marks, and turning it around so you can throw it at peter. “are you sick?” you ask him.

instead of answering, he licks his lip and unfolds the napkin, staring at the red marks, creases and tireless efforts arranged in a messy pattern. “this is like art.”

“why are you acting like you’ve never seen anyone wear lipstick before?”

“what?” he asks, hand to his chest. “i cant watch you get ready? i’m banned from being in the bathroom when you are?”

“yes, and yes.”

it does not escape your notice when peter tucks the napkin into his pocket for safekeeping.

he shrugs. “i don’t mind breaking the rules.”

you scoff at him and pat his shoulder as you walk past him through the doorway. “i would’ve locked you out if i knew you were going to be weird about it.”

“weird? how am i being weird?”

“you were lurking. you’re still lurking.”

“i’m talking to my girlfriend. that’s part of our contract.”

“you’re following me.”

peter smiles. “well, i like you.”

you roll your eyes, almost—almost—smiling when you feel his arms wrap around your waist. “please don’t make me argue about your stalker like tendencies.”

“we don’t have to argue,” peter says, kissing the space beneath your ear. his breath is hot.

“i need to put my shoes on, peter.”

he smiles, his teeth clashing against your skin like a dreadful reminder. some type of jumpscare—minus the fact that you merely lean into him, sans jumping. “we can spare fifteen minutes.”

“how can you be thinking about anything besides the fact that we’re already late to meet may?”

he nibbles on the skin by your collarbone, then licks it, as reprieve. “it must be the lipstick.”

“you’ve literally seen me with lipstick before. i wore some on our first date.”

“‘s probably why i like it so much.”

his lips are needy as they crawl around your skin. his hands are stationary, but they pose their own threat as they lurk.

“peter, we have to go.”

“i’m not known for my punctuality,” he spins you around, his lips curled in mischief, “you know.”

“i’m aware.”

you refuse to indulge him. your brows furrow, your hands held in the air—just so you can avoid accidentally touching him. purposefully.

“then why are you so worried?” peter asks, kissing your cheek.

“i’m not kissing you,” you say, instead of answering.

“you’re not?” peter pouts like a child. he is far too grown.

“no.”

“how come?”

you try to pull away from him, but, shockingly, peter is stronger than you are. your will is weak. “you’re going to smudge my lipstick. i just finished.”

“you have more, don’t you?”

“not the point.”

“what?” he asks, his voice so serious and teasing. “you don’t want to kiss me?”

“no, i do not.”

you look away from him, admiring a wall that has always been there.

“are you sure?” peter asks, ducking so he can catch your eyes again, because he is nothing if not cruel.

you break, pouting. “peter,” you whine, “we’re not going to be late again.”

“i think we are.”

“you can kiss me when we get home later,” you promise, trying again to wiggle out of his grasp.

“that is a terrible compromise.”

“you won’t compromise,” you snap back. “what else am i supposed to do?”

peter grins, tilting his head. “okay. i have an idea. how about i kiss you, and then we leave? you don’t even have to kiss back, even though we’d both prefer it that way.”

“i’ll kiss you,” you mock him. “you’re the worst negotiator i’ve ever met.”

“then how come we haven’t left yet?”

you scowl at him, and he scowls back, but his eyes are alight.

your skin is ravenous with an ache to touch him, he’s so close that kissing him would be nothing—merely breathing, really—but you don’t want to lose this game to peter. and you dont want him to stop looking at you.

he pretends to check a watch. “hmm, it’s getting awfully late.”

“are you british all of the sudden?”

peter grins, biting his lip before he tries to bite you. you lean away. “if you like my accent, all you have to do is say so.”

“i like it when you get out of my way, and stop trying to sabotage me. i like that a lot.��

“no clue what you mean, dear.”

you roll your eyes and manage to cross your arms in his hold.

“i wonder how we could solve this,” peter muses, tapping his finger on your waist. “it’s a big problem.”

“i could leave you behind and have lunch with may myself.”

“that’s one option.”

you roll your eyes again.

“i was thinking something else, though,” peter says, and he’s closer now, but you’re sure that you never saw him move. “something more… proactive.”

“shove it, peter.”

“you don’t even want to hear it?”

you sigh, leaning your chest into him, out of pure delusion. “fine. what?”

peter smiles at you, eyes catching eyes.

the look on his face is soft, delirious. he’s got that look in his eyes, and that smile on his face, and he’s still staring at you like he’s mesmerized by whatever you’re doing.

“what?” you repeat, but softly, like you can’t find your voice in the chest cavity peters taken hold of.

“kiss me,” he says, softly, and it’s really not your fault that his lips are already brushing yours.

and it’s not your fault when you lean in, sighing in relief at the mere feel of him.

you’re almost breathless, from the tiniest of kisses.

but then you kiss peter again, and again, and your hands finally wrap around him—keeping hold of something real in this fake reality—and your voice isn’t your own when you groan at peter for making you do this.

you have evacuated your body. you have lost common sense.

but it doesn’t matter, because kissing peter has always made you forget all of that.

and it still does, when he pulls back, grinning like he’s won. “see?” he says, voice ragged. “it was simple.”

“we’re going to be late and it’s your fault.”

peter laughs, kissing you again, staring at your red lips. “gladly. i’ll take all the blame.”

“and you’re making it up to me later.”

“whatever you say,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

he releases you and watches as you finally put on your shoes.

you don’t think it necessary to mention the red marks on his lips. it’s not like it’s your fault they’re there.

*

[sonarspace]

࣪ ˖⟡ BREAKING POINT (FT. TOJI)

꒰ synopsis. toji’s job was simple: watch, report, and move on but when the lines between his mission and his desires blur, he’s forced to confront a breaking point he never saw coming. content. potentially dark themes. (stalking. mention of death.) nsfw. (cunnilingus) wc. 8k–ish. (oops) an. it’s very late so i’m sorry if certain things don’t make sense. there will be a part two, hopefully soon.

toji never liked simple jobs. the thrill was always in the hunt, in the unpredictability of his targets. but this time? this time felt... different. he’d tracked down his mark to a small, unassuming neighborhood, half-convinced he’d been sent on some kind of wild goose chase. this place wasn’t exactly a breeding ground for threats.

and that’s where you come in.

you’re not what he expected—at all. no training, no hint of power, no connection to the dangerous world he roams. just... you, living your life, completely unaware that a man like him is lurking in the shadows, keeping an eye on you. it’s almost a joke. the ease of it should make him itch to move on, to wrap things up fast. but instead, he finds himself sticking around, watching from a distance as you go about your day.

and damn, you’re making it hard to leave.

there’s something about the way you carry yourself—unconcerned, relaxed, like you know nothing about the danger he could bring into your world. it almost makes him feel... invisible, and that’s a feeling toji hasn’t had in years. the way you look at the world, unguarded, it’s like you don’t know people like him exist. you’re a mystery that’s more enticing than he wants to admit.

then, one night, you catch him.

it’s a fluke, really—a careless mistake on his part. he’s standing in the shadows outside your apartment, watching as you lock up, but tonight you linger, glancing around as if sensing something’s off. and then your gaze lands on him.

“you gonna stand there all night or what?” you ask, your tone half-amused, half-annoyed. it’s bold, like you’re talking to some stray cat on the sidewalk instead of a trained killer.

toji feels a flicker of irritation, mixed with something else he can’t place. usually, people run when they see him, or at the very least, they freeze. but you? you look at him like he’s just another random inconvenience, and that almost pisses him off. almost.

he steps out of the shadows, crossing the distance between you in a few strides, his figure looming over you. “didn’t know you were waiting for an invitation,” he murmurs, voice low, watching as your expression shifts, just a little hint of caution now, mixed with curiosity.

“what, do you follow everyone home?” you challenge, crossing your arms as if you’re unbothered by the proximity. “or am i just that special?”

toji smirks, something dark flashing in his eyes. “depends. maybe i just like the view.”

it’s a cheap line, but it gets the reaction he’s looking for—your eyes narrow, a spark of annoyance flickering across your face. you’re not scared, though, not really. if anything, you look like you’re ready to push back, and that... that’s something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“you’ve got a weird way of complimenting people,” you shoot back, the faintest smirk playing at your lips.

“toji,” he says suddenly, the name rolling off his tongue like it’s an afterthought. “figured it’s only polite to introduce myself.”

your brows lift slightly, but you recover quickly. “well, toji, you’re still creeping around outside my building.”

“and you’re still talking to me,” he counters smoothly, tilting his head just enough to give you the impression he’s sizing you up. “guess that makes us even.”

you narrow your eyes at him, irritation sparking, but it’s laced with a strange flicker of curiosity you can’t quite push down. “you’re weird,” you mutter, your voice losing some of its edge. “you know that, right?”

toji chuckles low, the sound rough but not entirely unkind. “i’ve been called worse,” he says, stepping back, his gaze still locked on you. “don’t stay out too late. wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

you blink at him, caught off guard by the unexpected hint of... concern? but before you can respond, he’s already turning on his heel, his hands shoved into his pockets as he strides off into the dark.

────

over the next week, his presence becomes almost predictable. every evening, when you glance outside, he’s there, leaning against the streetlamp or pacing the sidewalk. it’s unsettling at first, but eventually, you find yourself getting used to it. you even start thinking about how to break the tension. maybe if you offered him something, this strange game would become a little less unnerving.

so you bake cookies—just a simple gesture, something to bridge the gap. but when you head downstairs, holding the small jar of freshly baked cookies in your hands, his usual spot is empty.

you glance around, half-expecting him to emerge from the shadows, but there’s nothing. just the dim streetlight and the quiet hum of the city. for some reason, the absence stings more than you expect. had he moved on? stopped stalking you? the thought should bring relief, but instead, it leaves a pang of disappointment.

────

a week later, you’re walking home from work, the late evening air cool against your skin. it’s a quiet night, uneventful—until you feel the faint prickle of unease. someone is following you. the footsteps behind you are too deliberate, too measured, sending a shiver up your spine.

you quicken your pace, your keys clutched tightly in your hand, your mind racing as you glance over your shoulder. the man trailing you is nondescript, but his intent is clear in the way his gaze locks onto you, unyielding.

just as he closes the distance, a shadow moves faster than you can process. the air shifts, heavy and violent, and before you can even register what’s happening, the man’s feet leave the ground. a dull thud echoes through the night as he crumples to the pavement, his body limp, unmoving.

you freeze, your breath catching in your throat, your eyes wide as the shadow that felled him takes shape. “toji...” you gasp, the name tumbling from your lips as your gaze darts from him to the man sprawled on the ground. “did you—did you kill him?!”

toji steps forward, brushing his knuckles against his shirt, his expression calm, unbothered. “no,” he mutters, glancing down at the unconscious man.

you stare at the scene, your chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. then your eyes lock onto him, and for the first time, you notice the state he’s in—bruises darkening his cheekbone, a shallow cut near his temple. there’s a stiffness in the way he moves, like every step costs him something.

“toji...” you breathe, softer this time, the concern in your voice impossible to hide. your hand twitches at your side, almost reaching for him, but you stop yourself just before you do. “are you okay?”

he tilts his head, his smirk faint, almost weary. “you’re worried about me princess?” he asks, his tone laced with faint amusement.

but your questions spill out before you can stop them, each one tripping over the next. “what happened to you? where were you all this time? who is that guy? why was he—”

toji’s hands come up, his fingers gripping your arms gently but firmly, grounding you. “breathe,” he says, his voice low but steady, his gaze holding yours. “just... breathe.”

you blink up at him, startled into silence, your chest still heaving as you try to process everything at once. his touch is warm, solid, a tether pulling you back from the edge of your spiraling thoughts.

“i’ll tell you everything,” he murmurs, his grip loosening slightly, though his hands stay on you. “but first, you need to calm down.”

you swallow hard, nodding, your breaths coming slower now, though the weight of the moment still presses heavy against your chest. toji’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he steps back, his expression softening ever so slightly.

toji’s hands fall from your arms, but his gaze doesn’t waver. there’s something steady, almost unshakable, in the way he looks at you, like he’s already made up his mind about what comes next.

“i need you to trust me,” he says, his voice low but firm, the weight of his words settling between you.

you blink, your breath catching for a moment. “trust you?” you repeat, incredulous, your eyes darting between him and the man still unconscious on the ground. “toji, i don’t even know you.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly. “you don’t have to,” he mutters, his tone lighter but edged with something darker, something urgent. “just please, trust that i know what i’m doing.”

“why?” you ask softly, your voice trembling.

toji’s gaze lingers on the man sprawled on the ground, his expression grim, tension radiating from his frame. when he looks back at you, there’s no trace of humor left in his eyes.

“because this man was here to kill you,” he says flatly, his voice low and heavy, the weight of the words sinking into your chest like stones.

your breath catches, your mind scrambling to keep up. “kill me?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly. “how do you even know that? who are you?”

he exhales, dragging a hand down his face, his knuckles brushing against the fresh bruise on his jaw. “just—please,” he mutters, his voice thick with frustration, “let me take you somewhere safe. i’ll explain everything, but not here.”

you shake your head, your arms crossing tightly over your chest, as if that alone can keep him from pulling you into his orbit. “my apartment is safe,” you insist, your voice steadier than you feel. “we can go there. but i’m not going anywhere else.”

toji groans softly, muttering something under his breath, his jaw tightening. “no, you’re not safe here,” he argues, his tone sharper now. “people are coming. more of them.”

your stomach flips at his words, dread curling in your gut. “who’s coming?” you demand, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

he doesn’t answer right away, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. finally, he shakes his head, his voice softer now but no less urgent. “please,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours, his voice dipping into something almost pleading. “just—”

“no,” you cut him off, your tone final. “if you want to talk, we’re doing it in my apartment. i’m not going anywhere.”

toji lets out a sharp exhale, his shoulders slumping slightly as he stares at you, clearly debating his next move. after a moment, he relents, jerking his head toward your building. “fine,” he mutters.

inside, your apartment is warm and inviting, a cozy little sanctuary from the chaos outside. the faint scent of vanilla lingers in the air, mingling with the soft glow of a small lamp on your end table. the space is lived-in, filled with personal touches—books scattered across the coffee table and a throw blanket draped over the back of the couch.

toji steps in, his sharp gaze sweeping over the room, taking in every detail. his expression softens briefly, the faintest flicker of something almost fond crossing his face. “cute place,” he mutters, the words gruff but genuine.

before you can respond, a tiny, black-and-white blur darts across the room, a soft, rumbling purr filling the air as a fluffy cat weaves around toji’s legs. its bright green eyes gleam mischievously as it nudges against his boots, its tail flicking with casual arrogance.

toji tenses, jerking his foot back like he’s just stepped on something dangerous. “what the—?”

you can’t help the laugh that escapes you as you kneel to scoop the cat into your arms, its purring growing louder as it nuzzles into your neck. “oh, ninja, meet toji. toji, this is ninja,” you say, grinning up at him as you scratch behind the cat’s ears.

“ninja,” he repeats flatly, glaring at the tiny creature like it’s somehow offended him. “you named it ninja.”

“he’s stealthy,” you reply with a shrug, holding the cat up to face him. ninja blinks lazily at toji, his green eyes half-lidded as if bored by the entire exchange.

toji sighs, muttering something under his breath about “useless little nuisances,” but he doesn’t move, watching as you set ninja down. the cat trots off, tail high, completely unbothered by the towering man now occupying his space.

toji exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “we don’t have much time,” he says, his tone sharpening as his gaze snaps back to you. “we need to go.”

but you plant your feet, crossing your arms over your chest, your expression firm. “not until you tell me what’s going on,” you say. “from the beginning.”

he groans, his head tipping back briefly before he looks at you again, his jaw tight. “this isn’t the time for a story,” he mutters. “you want answers, fine. but we need to move.”

“i’m not going anywhere until you explain,” you reply, your voice steady. “start talking, toji.”

toji groans, pinching the bridge of his nose before leveling you with a steady, unreadable gaze. “fine. you want to know what’s going on? here it is,” he says, his voice low and measured, like he’s choosing every word carefully. “i was assigned to gather intel on you. you’ve been classified as a threat.”

“a threat?” you repeat, your brows furrowing in disbelief. “me? why?”

“because of your father,” he replies, his tone clipped. “he was involved in some... shady business.”

you take a step back, your pulse quickening. “my parents are dead,” you say, your voice trembling, the words scraping against your throat. “they died in a car accident years ago.”

“i know that,” toji says, his voice softening just enough to make the tension in the room feel heavier. “but how do you think they died?”

the question hits like a hammer to your chest, the room tilting slightly as his words sink in. “you’re saying...” you trail off, your voice barely above a whisper. your thoughts race, piecing together fragments of a past you’d never questioned. “their car crash wasn’t an accident?” your stomach churns as the realization dawns on you, sharp and cruel.

toji doesn’t answer immediately, but the look in his eyes is enough to confirm it. you feel frozen, your legs unsteady beneath you, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

“breathe,” toji says softly, stepping closer. “look, i know it’s a lot. but we don’t have time to unpack all of this right now.” his voice is firm but not unkind, his gaze steady as he watches you struggle to process everything. “i need to get you out of here before they come.”

he turns toward the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to peer outside. his shoulders tense, his jaw tightening as he spots something in the distance. “shit,” he mutters under his breath. “they’re already here.”

“who’s here?” you ask, your voice barely steady.

“people who won’t hesitate to finish what they started with your parents,” he replies grimly. “we need to leave. now.”

you hesitate, your hands trembling as you clutch the back of a chair for support. “i can’t leave ninja,” you say, your voice breaking slightly.

toji glances at you, his expression hard, but then he sighs. “fine. bring the damn cat,” he mutters. “but grab your essentials. only what you need.”

you nod, swallowing hard as you rush to your bedroom. ninja’s carrier sits by the door, and you quickly scoop him up, his soft purring a faint comfort against the chaos unraveling around you. you throw a few shirts and pants into a small bag, along with your phone charger, some cat snacks, and ninja’s favorite toy. your hands tremble as you zip it shut, your mind spinning with questions you don’t have time to ask.

toji meets you at the door, grabbing the bag from your hands with ease. “stay close to me,” he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. you clutch ninja’s carrier tightly, nodding as he leads you toward the stairs instead of the elevator.

he pulls out his phone as you descend, speaking in a low voice. “gojo,” he mutters, his tone urgent. “send backup. now.”

you can’t hear the response on the other end, but the name lingers in your mind. gojo. another question for later.

toji suddenly halts, his body tense as he peers through the narrow window on the stairwell door. you follow his gaze, your heart stopping as you see men entering your floor, their movements calculated, their intentions clear.

he turns to you, his hand firm on your shoulder. “stay quiet. stay behind me,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

you watch as the men fan out on your floor, their presence clearing the stairwell for now. toji gestures sharply, and you follow him as he moves quickly, leading you downward again. your heart pounds in your chest, every creak of the stairs feeling impossibly loud.

you reach the basement parking lot, the space eerily quiet except for a single man stationed near the exit. toji moves like a shadow, closing the distance before the man can react. one quick strike, and the guard crumples to the ground, unconscious.

“come on,” toji urges, his voice low as he glances back at you. you hurry after him, clutching ninja’s carrier as your legs shake beneath you.

a sleek car pulls up, its headlights cutting through the dimness of the garage. the driver’s side window rolls down, revealing a man with dark hair tied into two buns and faint dark circles under his eyes. he peers at you briefly before addressing toji. “you’re late.”

“shut up, choso,” toji mutters, opening the back door and motioning for you to get in. you slide into the back seat, holding ninja close as the carrier shifts in your lap. toji closes the door behind you before sliding into the passenger seat. “drive.”

choso doesn’t hesitate, pulling out of the parking lot with practiced ease, the car gliding into the quiet streets. the tension in the air is thick, but no one speaks. the black cars you feared never materialize behind you, the route clear as choso expertly navigates the city streets, heading toward the outskirts.

you sit silently in the back seat, your arms wrapped protectively around ninja’s carrier, your eyes fixed on the shifting shadows outside. your mind races, replaying toji’s words over and over. their car crash wasn’t an accident. the weight of it settles heavily in your chest, your breath shallow as you try to process what it all means.

toji glances at you through the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t press. he knows this is a lot to take in—too much, even—but he also knows there’s no way to soften the truth.

the car slows as they pull into a small gas station, the bright fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows across the cracked pavement. choso cuts the engine, nodding toward a second car parked discreetly in the lot. “switching vehicles,” he says simply, already getting out.

toji turns in his seat, his gaze landing on you. “you need anything?” he asks, his voice low but steady.

you shake your head, your grip tightening slightly on ninja’s carrier. “no,” you murmur, your voice quiet, barely audible.

he watches you for a moment longer before stepping out of the car. you don’t move, your thoughts still tangled and heavy, the soft rumble of ninja’s purring the only thing grounding you.

when toji returns, he opens the back door and hands you a cold bottle of water and a small pack of citrus-flavored candy. your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you take the items, your gaze darting up to meet his. “how did you—” you start, but then it hits you. he’s been watching me. the thought stings, a strange mix of discomfort and something else you can’t quite name.

toji leans against the doorframe, his smirk faint but noticeable. “figured you’d need something,” he says simply, not offering more than that.

you exhale softly, your fingers brushing over the pack before tucking it away. “thanks,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

“don’t mention it,” he replies, stepping back to let you out of the car.

the three of you transfer into the second vehicle, ninja settling in your lap once more as you strap in. the silence follows you as the new car pulls onto the highway, the city lights fading behind you, replaced by the sprawling emptiness of the outskirts. it feels surreal, like the ground beneath your life has shifted, leaving you grasping for something solid.

────

the car pulls off the main road onto a narrow dirt path, winding through dense trees until a modest house comes into view. the structure is secluded, its exterior unassuming, the kind of place that could disappear into the background without much effort.

as the car rolls to a stop, the front door swings open, and a man with white hair steps out. he’s tall, his posture relaxed, and there’s a boyish grin on his face as he approaches, completely unfazed by the tension hanging in the air.

“welcome, welcome,” he says brightly, pulling open the back door before you can even unbuckle. his eyes immediately land on ninja’s carrier, and his grin widens. “and who’s this little guy?”

you blink, caught off guard as he leans down, cooing softly at the cat. “hey there, buddy,” he murmurs, lifting the carrier carefully from your lap. ninja lets out a soft meow, pressing his nose against the mesh, and the man chuckles. “oh, i like him already.”

“give it a rest, gojo,” toji mutters as he rounds the car, his tone laced with faint irritation. “you’re here to help, not adopt a cat.”

“who says i can’t do both?” gojo replies, turning to you with an easy smile. “satoru gojo,” he says, holding the carrier with one hand as he offers the other to you. “pleasure to meet you.”

you hesitate for a moment before shaking his hand, your grip tentative. “uh... thanks,” you manage, your voice soft.

toji falls into step beside you, his presence a steadying weight as gojo leads you toward the house. the air feels heavier as you step inside, your eyes immediately drawn to the two figures waiting in the living room.

the first is a tall woman with blonde hair tied into a loose ponytail, her arms crossed as she leans casually against the back of a worn-out couch. her gaze shifts to choso as he enters behind you, and a slow, easy smile spreads across her face.

“took you long enough,” she says, her tone teasing.

“had to pick up stragglers,” choso replies, his voice softer now as he steps forward and kisses her, his hand resting lightly on her waist. she leans into him with an ease that makes you feel like you’re intruding on something private.

you shift on your feet awkwardly, but before you can decide where to look, the woman turns her attention to you, her smile softening. “you must be exhausted,” she says gently, her tone warm and disarming. she steps forward, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “yuki tsukumo,” she introduces herself. “don’t let the boys intimidate you. they mean well. mostly.”

her kindness catches you off guard, and you manage a small, hesitant smile. “thank you,” you murmur.

toji’s voice cuts through the moment, his tone gruff. “don’t let her fool you,” he says, motioning toward yuki with a slight tilt of his head. “she’s dangerous.”

“only to people who deserve it,” yuki replies, her grin returning, her tone light but edged with a quiet confidence that makes you believe her.

beside her stands another figure, a man with long black hair pulled back into a neat bun. his features are sharp but composed, his expression calm as he steps forward, offering you a polite smile.

“suguru geto,” toji says, motioning toward him. “don’t let the nice guy act fool you.”

“ignore him,” suguru says, his tone carrying the faintest trace of humor. “he likes to pretend he’s the only one you can trust.” his eyes soften as they meet yours. “it’s nice to meet you. i know this must all feel... overwhelming.”

you nod wordlessly, still clutching ninja’s toy in your hand, your mind struggling to process everything. suguru’s voice is calm, measured, and there’s something about the way he speaks that makes you feel just a little more grounded.

meanwhile, gojo sets ninja’s carrier down, popping the door open to let the cat stretch out onto the floor. ninja lets out a soft meow before trotting over to inspect the room, his tail high and proud.

“so,” gojo says, straightening up and clapping his hands together. “what’s the plan? because i’m assuming you didn’t bring her here just for the company.”

toji sighs, running a hand through his hair as he looks at you. “the plan,” he says slowly, “is to keep her alive.”

────

“come on,” yuki says, her tone gentle as she motions for you to follow her. “i’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

yuki leads you down a narrow hallway, the wooden floorboards creaking faintly underfoot. the house is surprisingly clean and cozy inside—nothing like its rugged exterior. the walls are painted a warm beige, and small touches, like neatly arranged bookshelves give the space an unexpected charm.

yuki stops in front of a door, pushing it open to reveal a small, simple room. “here you go,” she says, stepping aside to let you in.

the room is bland but functional. a bed sits in the center, flanked by two plain side tables. there’s a narrow windowsill with a view of the surrounding trees, and the soft yellow glow of a table lamp casts a warm light over the otherwise bare space. it’s not much, but something about it feels oddly grounding—like a blank slate.

you set ninja’s carrier down and open the door. he stretches his little body out, his back arching and his paws spreading wide, before he begins mapping the space with his usual confidence, tail flicking as he investigates every corner.

“he’s cute,” yuki says with a soft smile, leaning against the doorframe. “you okay?”

the question hangs heavy in the air. she knows the answer before you say anything—it’s written all over your face. still, you appreciate the softness in her tone, the way she gives you space to process everything.

“it gets better,” she says quietly, her smile small but reassuring. “i promise. we’ll keep you safe.”

her words settle over you like a blanket—not enough to erase the weight in your chest, but enough to remind you that you’re not alone. she straightens, stepping back into the hallway. “take your time settling in,” she adds. “oh, and just a heads-up—there are only two bathrooms, and neither of them lock. so if you’re using one, just stick a towel under the door. it’s an unspoken rule for when we stay here.”

“got it,” you reply, managing a faint smile.

she nods once before disappearing down the hall, leaving you alone with ninja, who’s now perched on the bed, lazily cleaning his paw. you glance around the room again, sighing as you take it in. it’s bare, unremarkable—but maybe, just maybe, you could see yourself living here.

you grab a pair of sweatpants and a loose shirt from your bag and step out of the room. the hallway is quiet as you make your way to the bathroom, pushing the door open. it’s clean, the tiles worn but scrubbed spotless, and the mirror above the sink reflects the exhaustion etched into your face.

remembering yuki’s advice, you grab a towel from the rack and slide it under the door, pressing it into place with your foot.

the warm water feels like a balm against your skin, washing away the grime and tension of the day. for a brief moment, you let yourself relax, closing your eyes and letting the steam envelop you. but then the weight of everything crashes back down—the truth about your parents, the sudden upheaval of your life, the danger still lurking somewhere outside the walls of this house.

after a while, you turn off the water, wiping your face with trembling hands before stepping out. you change quickly, pulling on the sweatpants and shirt, the soft fabric a small comfort against your damp skin. you gather your things, pulling the towel from beneath the door as you prepare to head back to your room.

“shit!” you yelp, your heart leaping into your throat as you clutch your chest. “what the hell—”

“sorry,” he murmurs, holding up a hand. “didn’t mean to scare you.”

you stare at him, your pulse still racing as you take in his expression. his voice is quieter than usual, the sharpness dulled, and there’s something in his gaze—concern, maybe, or something close to it.

toji watches you for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for something. “you okay?” he asks, his voice low but steady.

you hesitate, your hands tightening around the clothes you’re holding. “yeah,” you murmur, though the word feels hollow. “i’m fine.”

his brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t press. instead, he gestures down the hallway. “come on. let’s talk,” he says, stepping aside and waiting for you to follow.

you trail after him, the quiet creak of the floorboards the only sound between you as he walks you back to your room. ninja is curled up on the bed when you enter, his tail twitching lazily as he stretches out, completely undisturbed by the tension hanging in the air. toji closes the door behind him, leaning against it as you sit on the edge of the bed, clutching the fabric of your sweatpants for something to ground you.

“i owe you an explanation,” toji begins, crossing his arms over his chest. his voice is even, but there’s a weight to it, like he’s been carrying this for a while. “about what’s going on. and about me.”

you nod silently, your gaze locked on him as you wait for him to continue.

“my crew, we’re... mercenaries, more or less. we take jobs—tracking people, running interference, whatever the client needs. and our clients? not the kind of people you’d ever want to meet.”

you stay quiet, your heart beating faster as you wait for him to continue.

“there are two big players we work for—naoya zen’in and ryomen sukuna,” he explains, his tone matter-of-fact. “naoya’s got power, connections, influence. he thinks that makes him untouchable. sukuna? he’s just pure strength. nobody crosses him and lives to tell about it.”

you can’t help the question that slips out. “so... who do you work for?”

“both,” toji replies with a slight shrug, as if it’s no big deal. “it’s a balancing act. naoya’s got more reach, but sukuna’s stronger. we take jobs from both of them, depending on what’s on the table.”

“and me?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly. “how do i fit into this?”

toji’s jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment, as if weighing his words. “naoya gave me your file,” he says finally. “he wanted you followed. didn’t say why—just that he’d pay well.”

your chest tightens, the reality of his admission hitting you like a blow. “that's why you were... stalking me,” you say, trying to keep up.

“yeah,” toji replies bluntly, his tone unwavering. “but here’s the thing—i told sukuna about the job. figured he’d want to know what naoya was up to.”

“and what did he say?” you ask, your pulse quickening, the pieces of this twisted puzzle refusing to fall into place.

“he told me to keep it up,” toji says, his voice quieter now. “but not for naoya’s sake. for yours.”

you blink, confusion clouding your thoughts. “for me? why would he care about me?”

toji exhales, dragging a hand through his hair, his frustration evident in the way his shoulders tense. “that’s the part i don’t know,” he admits, his gaze flicking back to you. “but sukuna doesn’t do things without a reason. if he wanted me to keep you safe, there’s a reason for it. so that’s what i did.”

your hands grip the edge of the bed, your thoughts racing. “and naoya?” you ask, barely above a whisper. “what does he want with me?”

“we’re not sure about that yet,” toji admits, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “we’re trying to figure it out. but whatever it is...” he pauses, stepping closer. “you’re safe,” he whispers, the words carrying a weight you didn’t realize you needed to hear.

his eyes soften as he crouches in front of you, his movements careful. when he notices the tears slipping down your cheeks, he reaches out, his thumb brushing gently against your skin to wipe a stray tear. “i won’t let anything happen to you,” he vows softly.

ninja pads over, his little paws silent against the bed as he hops up, settling into your lap. his warm weight presses against you, his soft purring vibrating through your legs, as if he can sense your spiraling emotions and wants to anchor you in his own quiet way. you stroke his fur absently, your fingers trembling slightly as you try to process everything.

toji watches you for a moment, his expression unreadable. then he tips your chin up with a finger, his touch firm but gentle, forcing you to meet his gaze. “i mean it,” he says, his voice low, insistent. “i won’t let anything happen to you.”

his words settle over you, and for the first time in what feels like hours, your breathing evens out. the faintest flicker of something close to relief creeps in, though the fear and uncertainty linger.

before you can respond, toji leans in, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. the gesture is brief, almost hesitant, but it sends a warmth through your chest that you can’t explain.

“get some rest,” he murmurs, pulling back slightly. “we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

you nod silently, your grip on ninja tightening as the door clicks softly behind him. the weight of the day still presses on you, lingering like an invisible force bearing down on your chest. you slump back on the bed with a heavy sigh, your head sinking into the pillow as the tension slowly drains from your body.

ninja curls up beside you, his small body warm and steady against your side, his soft purring filling the quiet room. you stroke his fur absentmindedly, your thoughts a tangled mess of confusion, fear, and exhaustion.

the room feels both too small and too vast, the events of the day replaying in your mind like a loop you can’t shut off. the truth about your parents, the danger lurking just outside this house, and toji’s quiet promise—it all feels too big, too overwhelming to process.

but then you think of his words, the way his voice softened, the steady conviction in his gaze as he said, i won’t let anything happen to you. and for a moment—just a moment—you allow yourself to believe him.

ninja shifts slightly, nudging his head against your hand, and you sigh, closing your eyes. 

────

it’s been two weeks since your world turned upside down. two weeks of secrets, half-truths, and trying to convince yourself you’re safe in a house full of strangers who know more about your life than you do.

you’d emailed your boss a vague explanation—an “unforeseen emergency” that would keep you away for an indefinite period. they’d been understanding enough, though your phone buzzed with missed calls from coworkers curious about what happened. but it wasn’t until your best friend’s name lit up your screen that you faltered.

you’re curled up in the corner of the couch, staring at your phone as it buzzes with your best friend’s name flashing across the screen. you hesitate, your thumb hovering over the answer button. toji is seated nearby, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed as he watches you with that unreadable expression.

“you need to keep where you are to yourself,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “don’t tell anyone anything.”

you exhale softly, nodding as you press the green button and lift the phone to your ear. “hey.”

“oh my god, finally!” your friend’s voice bursts through the line, light and frantic all at once. “do you know how worried i’ve been? you just dropped off the face of the earth!”

you glance at toji, his gaze unwavering, a silent reminder. “i’m fine,” you say, forcing your voice to stay steady. “i’ve just been... out of town. for work.”

“work? since when do you travel for work? where are you?” she asks, her tone sharp with concern.

“it’s nothing exciting,” you reply quickly, your words tumbling over each other as you try to sound nonchalant. “just some last-minute project they needed me on. i’ll be busy for a while—probably won’t have much time to talk.”

there’s a pause, the silence on the other end stretching long enough to make your stomach twist. “are you sure you’re okay?” she finally asks, her voice softer now. “you sound... off.”

you glance at toji again, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tilts his head. “i’m okay,” you lie, your fingers curling into the hem of your shirt. “just stressed, you know? new place, new schedule. it’s a lot to adjust to.”

she sighs, the sound laced with doubt. “okay, fine. but promise me you’ll call if you need anything. i don’t care how busy you are.”

“i promise,” you say, the guilt clawing at your chest. “i’ll call when i can.”

when the call ends, you set your phone down on the table, staring at it as if it might ring again. toji doesn’t say anything at first, his expression unreadable as he pushes off the counter and approaches you.

“that wasn’t easy, was it?” he murmurs, his tone softer now, almost like he’s trying to offer reassurance.

you shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “no,” you admit quietly. “it wasn’t.”

toji sighs, running a hand through his hair before sitting down across from you. “i know it feels wrong. but you did the right thing,” he says, his voice steady, firm. “keeping her out of this? it’s for her safety too.”

you nod, though the words do little to ease the ache in your chest. you pick up your phone again, staring at the lock screen like it holds the answers to questions you can’t even form.

“you’re not alone, you know,” toji adds, his voice breaking the silence. “even if it feels that way.”

you glance at him, his gaze meeting yours for just a moment before he stands, walking back to the kitchen. his words linger long after he’s gone, a small comfort against the growing weight of isolation.

────

you stood in front of the mirror in your room, adjusting the borrowed crop top yuki had tossed your way earlier in the week. it fit snugly, the hem brushing just above your waistline. the sweatpants hung loosely on your hips, comfortable but far from modest. you felt... exposed.

maybe it was the heat building in your chest—the restless energy that had been simmering all day—or maybe it was the way you’d caught yourself stealing glances at toji earlier during dinner, your thoughts wandering to the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his muscles flexed when he moved.

you shook the thoughts away, grabbing a water bottle and heading downstairs to the makeshift gym in the basement.

toji was already there, his back to you as he adjusted the straps on a punching bag. his black tank clung to his broad shoulders, the curve of his biceps catching your attention before you tore your gaze away.

he turned, his expression neutral before a faint smirk curved his lips. “you’re early,” he said, his voice low.

“let’s just get this over with,” you muttered, stepping onto the mat and stretching your arms, pretending not to notice the way his eyes lingered.

the session started like any other—jabs, kicks, counter-movements—but tonight, there was an edge to your strikes, a force that wasn’t usually there. toji caught on quickly, his movements fluid as he blocked each attempt, his brow furrowing slightly.

“you’re tense,” he said, stepping back and holding up a hand to pause.

“i’m fine,” you huffed, brushing a strand of hair from your face and resetting your stance.

“no, you’re not,” he countered, his voice steady but probing. “what’s going on?”

you didn’t answer, instead lunging forward with a punch he caught easily, his grip firm around your wrist. he twisted, flipping you onto your back with a controlled motion that left you breathless.

you gasped as your back hit the mat, your pulse quickening as he pinned you down. one hand pressed your wrist to the floor above your head, while the other braced against your hip, holding you in place.

“talk to me,” he said, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. “what’s wrong?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. all you could focus on was the heat radiating from his body, the way his hips pressed against yours, the weight of him holding you down.

“nothing,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

toji’s gaze searched yours, his green eyes darkening as they flicked down to your parted lips, then back up. “you sure about that?” he murmured, his grip on your wrist loosening slightly, but not enough to let you go.

your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest as the tension between you crackled like a live wire. you felt his thumb brush against your hip, the movement so slight you almost thought you imagined it.

“toji...” you breathed, your voice barely audible, your body instinctively arching just slightly beneath him.

he didn’t move, didn’t break eye contact, his jaw tightening as he seemed to wrestle with himself. “you’re not focused,” he said finally, though his tone lacked its usual bite. “what’s got you so distracted?”

“you,” the word slipped out before you could stop it, the confession hanging in the charged air between you.

toji stilled, his expression unreadable as the tension in the room reached its breaking point.

his grip on your wrist tightened, but his other hand moved, brushing against your waist, fingers pressing into the soft fabric of your sweatpants. his thumb tracing an absentminded circle that sent sparks shooting up your spine.

“me?” he murmured, his voice low, like he wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard you right.

you nodded, the motion barely perceptible, your lips parting as you tried to catch your breath.

he huffed out a low laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching as if supressing a mirk. “you’ve been all worked up over me, huh?”

you squirmed under his gaze, the heat rising to your cheeks making it impossible to deny. “just—don’t make this a big deal,” you muttered, turning your head away.

but toji wasn’t about to let you off that easy. his hand slid down, resting lightly on your hip, his touch warm and deliberate. “you sure about this?” he murmured, his voice quieter now, the teasing edge replaced with something softer, more serious. “i’m not doing anything unless you want it.”

your breath hitched, your body betraying you as your hips shifted under his touch. “i want it,” you whispered, your voice shaky but firm.

his smirk returned, slow and deliberate. “good.”

toji’s hand moved lower, brushing over the waistband of your sweatpants. “these,” he muttered, his tone dipping into something almost amused as his fingers hooked under the elastic, “are covering way too much of you.”

your breath hitched, the rasp in his voice sending a shiver through you. “they’re just sweatpants,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady, but the way his fingers toyed with the fabric had you faltering.

“just sweatpants,” toji muttered again, shaking his head as his fingers hooked under the waistband. “covering so much of you…” his smirk widened, dark and teasing. “nah, princess. these things have been pissing me off all night. hiding all this from me.”

he tugged them down slowly, deliberately, letting the fabric drag against your skin in a way that made your breath hitch. his dark eyes followed every inch he revealed, his gaze growing hungrier as the sweatpants pooled at your ankles. “knew it’d be worth the wait,” he muttered, his voice low, rough.

you squirmed under the intensity of his stare, the cool air raising goosebumps on your skin. toji’s hands returned to your hips, warm and firm, his thumbs brushing over the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“you’re so damn shy all of a sudden,” he teased, his voice dipping into that low rasp that made heat pool in your stomach. “you’ve been fighting me all night, and now you’ve got nothing to say?”

“toji,” you breathed, your voice barely steady, your hands gripping the mat beneath you as his hands trailed higher.

“what?” he murmured, his tone dripping with mock innocence. “just trying to help, princess. you said you needed this, didn’t you?”

before you could answer, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “then let me make you feel good,” he whispered, his voice low, deliberate, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

his fingers slid lower, hooking beneath the edge of your panties. he paused, just for a moment, his gaze meeting yours, giving you the chance to stop him. when you didn’t, he smirked, tugging them down with the same maddening slowness, exposing you completely. his eyes darkened as he tossed the fabric aside, and the air between you seemed to grow heavier.

“fuck,” he muttered, his hands gliding over your thighs, parting them as he settled between them. “look at you.” his voice was low, rough, filled with something that made your pulse race.

he didn’t hesitate, his fingers brushing over your folds, gathering the slick there as he let out a low, appreciative groan. “so wet already,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “you’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?”

your cheeks burned, and you turned your head, trying to hide the heat rising to your face. but toji wasn’t having it. his free hand caught your chin, tilting your face back toward him, his grip firm but gentle.

“nah, princess,” he said, his voice quiet but commanding. “i want to see that pretty face when you come.”

his fingers moved again, teasing over your clit in slow, deliberate circles. the light, teasing touch sent sparks shooting through you, your hips shifting involuntarily beneath him. “toji,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as you tried to stay grounded.

“yeah?” he muttered, his lips curling into a smirk as he watched you squirm under his touch. “what do you need, princess? tell me.”

“don’t stop,” you breathed, your voice catching as his movements grew firmer, more insistent.

“wasn’t planning on it,” he murmured, lowering his head. his tongue flicked out, tracing a slow, deliberate circle over your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through you. your back arched off the mat, a soft cry spilling from your lips as he settled into a rhythm, his tongue and fingers working in perfect tandem.

he groaned softly against you, the sound vibrating through your core as he slid a finger inside, the stretch making your breath hitch. “fuck,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin. “so tight, princess. you’ve been needing this for a while, haven’t you?”

you couldn’t respond, your voice caught in your throat as he added another finger, curling them just right, hitting that spot that made your vision blur. his pace was unrelenting, his fingers moving in steady, deliberate thrusts while his tongue worked your clit with maddening precision.

“toji—” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as your thighs trembled against his shoulders.

he hummed against you, his tongue pressing flat against your clit before flicking up again. “that’s it,” he murmured, his voice dark and rough. “let go for me. i want to feel it.”

his words sent you spiraling, your body arching as the tension in your core snapped, waves of pleasure crashing over you. you cried out, your voice breaking as your fingers tightened in his hair, holding him against you as you rode out the high.

toji didn’t let up, his tongue and fingers moving slowly now, coaxing every last aftershock from your trembling body. when he finally pulled back, his lips were swollen, his chin glistening as he looked up at you, his expression smug and satisfied.

“sweet as hell,” he muttered, his voice rough as he brought his fingers to his lips, licking them clean with deliberate slowness. his dark eyes stayed locked on yours, the heat in them making your cheeks burn.

toji finally eased back, his lips glistening and swollen, his smirk impossibly smug as he looked down at you. your chest was still rising and falling with the aftermath of your release, your limbs heavy, your thoughts a jumbled mess.

“feel better now?” he asked, his voice low, teasing.

you nodded weakly, your voice too shaky to respond. his smirk widened, and he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple before pulling back, his hand resting lightly on your thigh.

he reached to the side, grabbing a few tissues from the small box nearby. “hold still,” he murmured, his voice softer now as he gently wiped you clean, his touch uncharacteristically tender. the contrast to his earlier intensity made your cheeks flush all over again.

he reached for your sweatpants. his hands slid them back up your legs with care. his thumbs smoothed over your hips as he adjusted the waistband, his gaze flickering up to meet yours.

“there,” he said, his voice low and almost fond. “back to being all covered up.”

but then his hand slipped to the side, grabbing your discarded underwear from the mat. he balled the fabric up in his hand, slipping it into his pocket without hesitation.

“toji,” you said, sitting up slightly, your voice a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “my underwear?”

he grinned, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before standing. “i’ll give it back… maybe,” he said, his smirk widening as he glanced back over his shoulder.

“you’re insufferable,” you muttered, glaring at him, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed the way your heart raced at his audacity.

“you like it,” he called over his shoulder, already halfway out the door. “next training session, sweet girl. don’t be late.”

an. peep the nickname change after he got a taste of that thing.. mhm. what a good man.

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[redvexillum]

@inuhalfdemon I knew I could count on you to spice things up a bit! Listen, you made @safination a very happy lil gal with this ask, I'll have you know. I'll even change it up from my usual style, and write this purely in Alastor's POV. Not sure if you like human Alastor, but I hope you do after this ☆ ～('▽^人)

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, blood play, ♡ral sex, unhinged!alastor, briefly imply cannibalism, infidelity, alastor has scars, unhinged!alastor, branding with knife, obsessive!alastor, period typical racism, maybe bordering yandare!alastor (?)

Alastor was going to kill you.  

He had no doubt about it. You, with your pristine life – riches, status, and a marriage that looked flawless from the outside. Everything about you seemed perfect, a picture of untouchable elegance.  

But Alastor knew the truth lurking beneath that polished exterior. He knew your husband was nothing more than a filthy, corrupt official – extortion, blackmail, murder of the helpless, especially those of colour. By association, you must have shared in his sins, whether by action or silence.  

For Alastor, his prey was always chosen with care. He wouldn’t dirty his hands with the innocent. His mother had raised him better than that. The streets were crawling with vile creatures, and there was no shortage of filth to cleanse. Killing wasn’t just a necessity – it was a thrill, a ritual he savoured.  

The sweet satisfaction of purging evil from the world, leaving it a little cleaner, a little darker, but always better. It was his art, his craft, and each kill were a masterpiece. You were supposed to be another one.  

He watched you, lurking in the shadows, memorizing every detail. The way your arm draped over your husband’s like a serpent coiling around its prey. That perfect smile – too perfect, like a mask you wore every day, hiding the darkness he knew must linger beneath. Alastor studied you relentlessly, plotting the exact moment to strike, the precise time to drag you into the depths of his bayou and erase that false, disgusting smile forever.  

But something shifted, something he hadn’t foreseen.  

One afternoon, as Alastor sat on a park bench, his lips curling into a grin behind his newspaper, amused at the latest article about the “Bayou Butcher,” he felt the sunlight dim. A shadow fell across the print. He looked up, ready to snarl at the interruption, but his breath caught.  

It was you, standing before him. Your fingers fidgeted nervously, a soft smile playing on your lips, and at that moment, you weren’t the victim he had imagined.  

“May I help you?” Alastor asked, his tone honeyed, concealing the whirlwind of confusion brewing inside. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Why was his prey coming to him? 

You gasped lightly, and then, as if the heavens themselves were laughing in his face, a giggle bubbled up from your throat – sweet, melodic... 

...Intoxicating.  

“Are you the radio broadcaster for station 66.6?” Your eyes sparkled with innocent excitement, that same radiant smile now directed at him.  

His lips twitched, the faintest flicker of amusement and wariness passing through him. How had you recognize him? His voice was the only part of him ever to broadcast.  

Sensing his unspoken question, you raised a hand to your lips in apology, looking shyly to the side before meeting his gaze again. “I’m actually a good friend with Mimzy. When I told her I was a fan of your show, she pointed you out when you were at her speakeasy the other night.” You smiled nervously, twisting your hands together. “I wanted to approach you then, but...I suppose my nerves got the best of me.” 

At that moment, something in Alastor changed. He convinced himself that this was fate. You, his prey, presenting yourself to him so willingly – it had to be a sign. And so, he entertained you, the perfect gentleman. He played his role as he always did, charming, polite, hiding his true intentions behind his ever-present grin. He would lead you into his bayou soon enough. Flesh and blood would be his reward.  

But somehow...the plan never quite happened. The weeks stretched on, one excuse after another.  

Next week, he told himself.  

Then... 

Next month.  

And the next. 

And the next. 

And now? Now, you were in his home – in his bed. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows that danced across the room. Your wedding ring winked at him from the dim light as your fingers reached out to him, your smile – damn that smile – still as enchanting as the first time you’d greeted him in the park. His pulse quickened, a thrum of something dark and dangerous lurking beneath his skin.  

Desire.  

Forbidden and all-consuming. It clung to both of you like second skin, wrapping around his and your hearts and pulled them deeper into its murky depths. The line between predator and prey blurred.  

Sinful.  

Wicked.  

Irresistible.  

You.  

Your soul was stained the same as his at that moment, soaked in the same shade of black, though Alastor’s - oh, his – was far darker. After all, how could yours compare to a man who had murder etched into his very bones? 

His bare skin pressed against yours, both of you entangled in the warmth of each other, every inch of him revelling in the feel of your soft, smooth curves. He inhaled sharply, his breaths unsteady, savouring the heat where your bodies met. His fingers traced along your hips, your thighs, as if memorizing each delicate slope. He could get lost in the feel of you, spend hours worshipping the perfection beneath his touch.  

His lips found yours, a slow, burning kiss that lingered before he dragged his mouth down the tender column of your neck, across your collarbone. Each kiss light, each kiss reverent. He explored the valley between your breasts with deliberate, maddening slowness. Each kiss sent shivers through you as he travelled lower, his breath brushing your skin.

When he reached your hips, he paused, eyes wild with hunger, before hooking your legs over his shoulders. His breath ghosted over your sensitive folds, teasing, tempting.  

How did he get here? 

His fingers tightened around your hips, holding you firmly as he leaned in, his lips pressing a feather-light kiss against the swollen tip of your clit. This wasn’t what he had imagined when he’d thought of indulging in your flesh, not like this. But now, he couldn’t stop.  

He was needy.  

Ravenous.  

Consumed by a hunger that went far beyond flesh.  

“Al...” you breathed, your voice soft and sweet, like the wind whispering through the trees of his bayou. The sound of your voice sent a jolt through him, tugging at something deep inside, something primal. He wanted to drown in that sound, let it wrap around him like the humid air of home.  

His mouth pressed against your slick folds, his tongue sweeping between them with aching slowness. The hitch in your breath, the soft moans that escaped you – they drove him mad. 

More.  

He wanted more.  

He needed it.  

Every reaction, every sound, it wasn’t enough. He craved everything you had to offer.  

But his eyes caught the flash of gold – the wedding band still clinging to your finger like a sick reminder. The sight of it made his chest tighten with rage, his hands twitching with the urge to rip it off and toss it into the swamp. But instead, he closed his eyes, shutting out the thought, focusing on you. He focused on the heat of your body, the taste of you, as his tongue lapped at you, deeper, stroking every part of your trembling core.  

A low moan escaped him as his tongue dipped further, swirling around the most sensitive part of you, eliciting another desperate, breathless sound from your lips. His cock was aching, painfully hard, but all he wanted, all that mattered, was your pleasure. Your moans, your writhing body beneath him, the way your fingers curled into the sheets.  

Your everything.  

More.  

It was the only word echoing in his mind as his mouth worked tirelessly, his tongue gliding, tasting, drinking in every drop of your desire.  

More. More. More.  

Perhaps it was because he knew – deep down – that no matter how much he craved you, you could never truly be his. You would return to your world, leave his bed empty, cold, and desolate once again. And each time, that dark, consuming desire to trap you here, to make you his forever, only grew stronger. Feverish.  

More.  

“Alastor,” your voice came out as a soft, pleading whimper, cutting through the maelstrom of dark thoughts swirling in his mind. That sound, delicate and needy, was never enough to make him stop wanting more of you. His lips parted from your core, a thin, glistening strand of saliva and your slick connecting the two of you before it broke, hanging in the air like the tension between the both of you.  

“I want to please you too,” you murmured, your voice tender, your eyes warm and filled with a quiet devotion. You smiled softly, your hair – usually neat and perfect – now loose and wild, framing your flushed face with strands that had escaped in the heat of the moment. You shifted, the bed creaking beneath you as you leaned forward, pressing your body against him, your warmth melting into his bare chest.  

Alastor’s breath hitched, feeling the press of your soft curves against him. Slowly, deliberately, he guided you down with him until you lay on top of him, bodies entwined in shared heat. His cock throbbed insistently against your belly, but he ignored it for a moment, letting his fingers weave through your messy hair. He gently stroked the strands, savouring the intimacy of the moment, before planting a tender kiss on your forehead. The sound of your giggle – light and sweet – filled the room, sending a rush of satisfaction through him.  

More.  

The thought lingered, twisting like a knife in his chest. He could kill your husband, make him disappear. The idea came easily, a whisper of violence mixed with longing, the dark fantasy taking root in his mind. He chuckled then. Perhaps, it had already taken root and has now blossomed into a beautiful thought of a world where he was drenched in your husband’s blood.  

You shifted, lifting yourself just enough to brush your fingers over one of the many scars that marked his skin. Your eyes sparkled with curiosity and mischief as you traced the rough line with delicate fingers.  

“How did you get this?” you asked, your voice soft and gentle before pressing a kiss to the scar, your lips warm against his skin as you followed the path leading dangerously close to his aching cock.  

Alastor chuckled darkly, his grin sharp as he watched you, mesmerized by your touch. “Got into a little scuffle when I was younger,” he replied, his voice low, filled with amusement. Your lips formed a pout, then softened into a kind smile as you kissed the scar again.  

“It doesn’t hurt anymore?” you asked, running your fingers back and forth across the jagged edge.  

“No,” he whispered, guiding your head with a teasing hand, urging you toward his throbbing length. “Haven’t thought about it in years.” In truth, the only thing burning in his mind was the revenge he had taken, the satisfaction of ending the lives of those who had hurt him once his mother was no longer there to hold him back.  

You hummed softly, and then your warm, soft lips kissed the head of his cock. His breath hitched as your fingers wrapped around him, stroking gently while your tongue flicked out, teasing, tasting him. The sensation was electric, making him shudder as you dragged your wet tongue along the head of his cock, your touch slow and deliberate, designed to drive him mad.  

Could he kill your husband? Would that mean you would finally be his, completely? The thought grew within him, louder and louder, until it was all he could think about – obsess about. His eyes flicked to the golden band still shackled around your finger, a symbol of everything that stood between him and what he truly wanted.  

You closed your eyes, your lashes brushing your cheeks as you took him deeper, your lips forming a tight, wet seal as you began to suck, your mouth hot and exquisite around him. A sharp breath escaped his lips, his hand trembling as he stroked your hair, his other hand gripping the sheets beneath him.  

“Cher...” he groaned, the word a strained whisper as he fought to contain the chaotic storm of emotions swirling within him. His feelings for you were growing, spiralling out of control with each passing moment. He was falling into something dark and dangerous, something that felt too close to obsession – hah! – no, it was already an obsession.  

The wet heat of your mouth, the way you moaned around him, it was driving him wild. He wanted you in every possible way – mind, body, soul. Every inch of you, every whisper, every smile. More. Always more.  

But even then, he knew it would never be enough.  

His eyes roamed over the scars that marred his body, a patchwork of memories etched into his skin. Each one told a story, some of the prey fighting back, others from the cruelty inflicted on him for being born into a world that saw him as lesser. They were his reminders – marks of his survival, of the battles won, and the punishments endured.  

But now, his gaze drifted to you. Your fingers, soft and pristine, wrapped around his cock, your clean cuticles and neatly trimmed nails standing in stark contrast to his scarred body. A thought flickered in his mind – wouldn't it be beautiful if he had something that reminded him of you, something permanent, something he could see on days when you weren’t with him? 

“Cher,” he called out softly, his voice a desperate whisper. “Cher,” he repeated, his tone filled with need, and his breath jumped sharply as your mouth took him deeper, the feel of your throat tightening around him sending a shock of pleasure up his spine.  

You looked up at him, his cock buried deep in your mouth, glistening under the dim flicker of candlelight, and he felt the image burn into his mind. The sight of you like this – lips swollen; eyes glazed with lust – it was a sight he never wanted to forget.  

But then, with a slow and gentle motion, he pulled himself from your mouth, watching as your lips parted, slick and bruised from your ministrations. He leaned over, his hand searching the drawer of his bedside table until he found it – a small wooden handle sheathed in leather. Unsheathing the blade, he held it out to you.  

Your brow furrowed, confused, your head tilting slightly as questions danced in your eyes, though none found their way to your lips.  

“Evidence,” Alastor murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, placing the knife in your hand with reverence. “Proof,” he continued, inching closer, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that felt both tender and tainted with the thrill of something darker. “Anywhere, love,” he whispered, his voice lilting with an almost jovial tone that belied the devilish intent behind his words. “Anywhere you want, to show me how much you love me.”  

Your lips trembled; your hand unsteady as you seemed to process the weight of his request. “It’ll hurt,” you murmured, your voice barely audible as you traced the dull side of the blade along his inner thigh, testing the sharpness of the blade. 

But then, Alastor saw it – the flicker of something dark behind your eyes, the same gleam that had sparked the first time you’d broken your marital vows for him. You were his – his little devil, his wicked temptation, his. 

A slow, wicked grin spread across your lips as you pushed him back onto the bed. “Anywhere?” you cooed, your voice a sultry tease as you bowed your head, your tongue flicking out to lick the base of his cock. The contrast of your warm tongue and the cool blade was intoxicating.  

His heart pounded, each throb sending a pulse of arousal through him, as you pressed the flat edge of the blade against the head of his cock, teasing him with the threat of pain. His cock twitched in response, a bead of pre-cum forming at the tip, and you seemed to sense his desire. You continued your slow, torturous licks, kitten-soft, while pressing the sharp edge of the blade against his inner thigh.   

Alastor hissed as the first slice cut into his skin, sharp pain blooming in his flesh, but it was drowned out by the pleasure of your mouth on him. Your lips enveloped his balls, sucking gently, your tongue tracing delicate patterns that made him groan. The mix of pain and pleasure twisted inside him, creating a heady blend that left him breathless.  

Each stroke of the blade was purposeful, each cut sending a rush of heat through him. His hips rolled instinctively, thrusting into your mouth, seeking more of the pleasure you so expertly provided, even as the blade pierced and dragged across his skin. Blood trickled from the fresh wounds, warm and wet, but your tongue, your lips – they were his salvation amidst the pain.  

Twelve strokes. Twelve precise cuts. With each slice, the pleasure intensified, his groans turning into a melody of pleasure and pain. His body trembled beneath you, surrendering to the exquisite torment you dealt him, his desire swelling.  

More. Always more. And even then, it still wouldn’t be enough.  

The moment the bloody blade fell from your hand onto the bed, your fingers slick with his blood, you gripped his throbbing shaft, working it with slow, teasing strokes. Your lips were wrapped around him, tasting his arousal, his blood, as you bobbed your head up and down, your mouth a wet, heated heaven that he lost himself in.  

The pain from the cuts on his inner thigh faded into a distant, forgotten ache, drowned out by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his body. His head fell back, lips parting as his breath came in ragged gasps, hips pushing forward involuntarily to chase the sensation of your soft, warm mouth. The slick, wet sound of your spit, the sticky remnants of blood on his thighs, the obscene wetness trailing down his cock – it all blurred together in a haze of ecstasy.  

With every thrust, every gurgle and moan, Alastor’s grip on control slipped further. His eyes squeezed shut, lost in the raw, primal swirl of base desires. And the thought – the beautiful, intoxicating thought – that now he had a scar from you, a mark that would outlast everything, including the tarnished band on your finger, that thought was his undoing.  

A deep, guttural groan ripped from his throat as he came hard, releasing in thick, hot spurts into your waiting mouth. You, always so good for him, took him in, swallowing every last drop, your lips and tongue devouring him with a devotion that made him weak. You were perfect for him, always.  

But he needed more – always more of you. He could never have enough.  

And tonight, he made a silent vow. He would kill your husband. No more waiting. No more pretending.  

As you pulled away from him, your lips slow to part from his cock, you licked them clean, flashing him a cheeky grin. “I think we should clean you up,” you teased, your voice soft, breathless, as you glanced at the mess of blood and cum staining the sheets, his thigh soaked in crimson.  

Alastor’s gaze drifted lazily down to the fresh wound on his inner thigh, a scar that would be his forever. He had to fight the urge to pull you under him and take you right then and there, to lose himself in you until morning came. His breath was shallow, his chest heaving, and a high-pitched laugh escaped him, tremors of delight rolling through his body.  

“Oh, cher,” he murmured, fingers tracing the new cut, still warm and raw. His tone was laced with affection, but beneath it, there was the dark swirl of possessiveness. His bloodied fingers caught your face, smearing crimson across your skin as he pushed you down onto the bed. The mattress groaned beneath your combined weight, sinking into the heat of the moment. “Cher, cher, cher,” he repeated, his voice dripping with laughter and madness, each repetition steeped in dark affection.  

His hands, now slick with his own blood, gripped your face with a possessiveness that bordered on feral, marking you with his blood as his lips descended on your skin. His mouth traced you hungrily, tasting, claiming every inch of you. Blood and lust mingled, and his touch, his kisses – they were everywhere, devouring, overwhelming.  

MINE.  

That was what your scar said to him. It screamed it – MINE. 

And at that moment, Alastor knew – this was your permission, your sign. He would kill your husband. He would make sure you were his.  

Forever.  

Mine.  

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

FUN FACT: Several months ago, I made a poll about what story I should write next. Human!Alastor and ABO was super close, but ABO won in the end. This one shot was actually a snippet of my story. Read this post here, if anyone is interested!

[disneyprincemuke]

meet me in the afterglow * fem!driver

does sorry even work after you hurt the people you love?

pairings: oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, sebastian vettel x fem!driver

notes: once upon a time, this 2025 szn only had like... 3/4 parts? and because i have 0 self control, it's now split into 9 parts... i promise the next part is actually the last part and there's no more surprise angst so here's the kind of comfort fic...? lolsie

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

she stares into the restaurant where the group of blondes sit, trying to count in her head if she should finally announce her presence.

she’d been lurking in the group chat watching them make plans. plans that included her by default yet she still hesitated to bring herself out to meet them.

perhaps it’s too soon to be here? unless oscar wasn’t lying when he said that her other friends miss her too despite isolating herself for more than half the year.

“what are you doing lingering out here in the cold?” a familiar voice fills her ears with a soft chuckle. “come on in and join us for lunch, silly.”

“oscar,” she laughs sheepishly, scratching the back of her head. “i’m afraid it’s too soon for me to be here. i’ll just head back home.”

oscar tilts his head and furrows his eyebrows. he watches her turn on her heel and starts walking in the direction of her apartment. “what?” he grabs her wrist and yanks her towards the entrance of the restaurant. “no, you told me you’d join us today. you got ready and everything — even did your makeup! you look great, mate.”

she tries to pull herself back. “i don’t even know if they want me here.”

“remember what i told you yesterday,” oscar stops in his tracks and turns around to face her, “sometimes it’s all in your head. this time, trust me when i say it is. liam and mick missed you just as much as we did.”

she hesitates for a moment but eventually nods. oscar cheers and pumps his fist in the air. “great! then let’s go.”

oscar guides her into the restaurant and slowly approaches the table where their friends sit.

liam scowls at logan, “i’m seriously curious about whatever the hell goes in your head.”

“what do you mean?” logan asks, slightly hurt, “it’s a legit question. they’re just infected — sick, perhaps — so technically they’re still human.”

“point taken, but like… i wouldn’t consider them human still,” mick mumbles hesitantly, seemingly in deep thought over logan’s question. “but that’s just a very… peculiar question.”

“if rocky was here, she’d entertain me unlike you losers,” logan scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “your answers are basic. i want an actual nurturing conversation about zombies and their human rights.”

“you guys got an extra seat for me? i have opinions about zombies and human rights,” she says softly with a smile. “i know i haven’t joined you in a while and i’m sorry. but if you let me—”

“oh, you’re here!” mick jumps up from his seat. he rounds the table and shoves oscar away from her then throws his arms around the small girl. “there’s always a seat for you! what do you mean?”

“welcome back,” liam beams with a nod. “mick here has a list of gossip he wants to talk to you about.”

logan scowls, “gossip that he refused to tell us unless you’re around.”

“well, why would i tell you boring idiots are gossip i worked so hard to get?” mick scowls, rolling his eyes. he starts to guide her towards his seat and pulls out a chair for her to sit next to him. “for a bunch of uninterested answers and sighs?”

“i could be—”

“whatever!” mick says exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. he sits her down in the seat and takes his own, pulling his phone out from his pocket. “so i have a list. let’s start with whatever the hell is going on with red bull and max.”

liam watches the girl walk out of the restaurant first, with the ruse that it’s too warm inside the restaurant. he excuses himself from mick, waving him off nonchalantly as he tries to settle the bill.

“i’m glad you’re back,” liam hums with a smile, approaching her with his head dropped and kicking rocks on the ground. “missed you, mate.”

“thanks,” she laughs, looking up from her phone. “i’m sorry i clocked out for a while there. i didn’t know how to cope with the year we were having.”

“it would’ve been nice to have you around,” he admits softly, finally stopping by her side. “this season has been so cruel to us. wish we had each other a little bit more, you know? we could’ve just gone through it together.”

she throws her head back. at some point in the year, she did consider that. but she’d tried getting herself to reach out to liam, but by that time, it felt like a case of too little too late.

“i know,” she sighs with a small smile. “i’m sorry. i thought you were doing perfectly fine without me.”

“the world’s always been a little harder on you, let’s admit that,” liam rests his arm on her shoulder, “we’re just glad that you’re back. you look like you’ve gotten back the colour in your face.”

“yeah, it’s about time,” she nods. “so, about your offers from other teams. anything that stood out to you yet?”

liam grins. “i’ve been meaning to talk to you about that after summer break. i didn’t think i’d see you til then,” he laughs. “they’re gonna announce it on the first race weekend from summer break.”

“you made a decision!” she shrieks. though, she feels her chest slightly tighten. liam avoiding a direct answer can truly only mean one thing and it’s that she’ll have to cozy up with some new driver that isn’t one of her closest friends. “that’s amazing, i’m so happy for you!”

“i’ve re-signed with andretti, mate. a year extension and if it goes well next year, i’m definitely staying a little longer,” liam jumps up and grabs her shoulders, “we’re going to be teammates forever!”

“what?” she almost drops her phone from the bombshell he’s dropped on her. “you’re not leaving?”

“don’t tell the guys yet, it’s a secret til then!” liam immediately recomposes himself when the doors open and their friends walk out.

“what are you girls giggling about?” oscar snorts, shaking his head. “keeping secrets from us?”

“it’s a teammate thing.”

“what are you doing still in the car?” logan hums, hunching to look into the car. the girl continues to sit in the passenger seat and looks ahead blankly. “oscar’s already at the door, dude. let’s go.”

“what if they hate me forever?” she frowns, turning to logan with slight tears in her eyes. “i sucked. not very family-friendly of me to act the way i did. and missing the anniversary party? not very cool either.”

“just get out of the car,” logan snorts, finally opening the door for her. he points towards the house and looks back at her. “come on. your dad told us he made your favourite cookies if it will help get you inside.”

she rolls her eyes. “you told papa i was coming?”

“just him, i promise.”

“boo. you suck.”

but she follows logan out of the car anyway. she watches as logan drags both of their bags towards the door and gives her another smile. then he walks down the pathway through the front yard to make his way to the front door.

she watches from the car as the front door opens, revealing her mother with a wide grin as she greets logan and oscar with open arms, yanking them in for a tight hug and kisses on cheeks. she only gets noticed when oscar steps aside to point at the car.

“you’re here!” her mother shrieks, hands on her cheeks as she pushes past the 2 boys in front of her. “my love, i missed you so much! i’m so glad you’re here!”

she remains in her position, hands fisted by her side as she watches her mother thread the stone pathway to walk over to her. “you look amazing. i’m so happy that you’re here.”

arms are thrown around her tightly, catching her off-guard. she’s barely even got the chance to get her carefully constructed apology out. for how she’s acted, for how she treated everyone in that house for the couple of days she spent in it.

“i’m seriously so glad you’re here. good thing i made your favourite,” her mother shrieks, starting to yank her towards the house. “and papa made cookies! then blythe stocked up on the ice cream you like hoping you were coming by with oscar and logan.

“dalton’s going to be so glad that you’re here.”

“dalton?” she asks in surprise, lifting an eyebrow as she follows her mother into the house. “isn’t he mad at me?”

her mother grins and stops right before they enter the kitchen. her cheek is cupped by her mother tenderly and the other hand brushes through her hair. “blythe sat both ciara and dalton down and told them off. i’m sorry i didn’t see you were struggling — i thought i was helping. i didn’t know.”

“you know?” she tilts her head with furrowed eyebrows. tears fill her eyes as she slumps her shoulder. “i didn’t mean to take it out on you. you know i love you, mama.”

“it’s okay. you’re still just my baby,” her mother sighs, pulling her head in to rest on her shoulder. “i should have known you were just overwhelmed. i’m sorry i didn’t notice and drove you even further.”

“oh, cool! you’re here!” dalton’s voice echoes in the house, making her jump off her mother. “i made you cookies!”

“did not,” ciara scoffs, rolling her eyes, following dalton down the stairs. “we had to buy a new batch of ingredients cause he put the egg whites in with the batter.”

dalton shakes his head disapprovingly as he passes the mother and daughter. “they told me too late. they’re not the best at instructions and that’s why you can tell ciara works all by herself in a measly little studio — can’t lead for shit.”

ciara smacks the back of his head. “fuck you.” the younger girl turns to her oldest sister with a smile. “welcome home. we set up just dance so we can watch logan trip over his feet all evening.”

“hey!”

apologising should come easy, she’s already done it attempting to make amends for the past 2 weeks with everyone. though she can’t ignore the churning in her stomach as she walks down a familiar hallway.

drafting the apology speech in her hotel room came naturally to her. with logan and oscar’s nod of approvals, suddenly she was ready to head out.

but there’s still the worry that it could be rejected.

who would want to take her back, anyway? it’s a miracle that everyone else in her life has received her with open arms after the way she acted.

she stares at the plain door for a moment and takes a deep breath. she just has to say she’s sorry, that’s all. just like how she told her friends she would.

she bites down on her lip as she finally musters the courage to land a knock on the door.

“give me a second!”

“okay, no rush.”

footsteps from inside the apartment halt for a moment. she hears heavy footsteps approaching the door and something dropping on the floor, then stumbling, making her smile to herself. then she hears the locks click hurriedly before it’s yanked open.

matt sighs in relief and throws his head back. “thank god it’s actually you. i thought i was going crazy hearing your voice.”

“over exaggeration,” she points out with a small smile. she sucks in a deep breath and exhales shakily. “hi.”

“hi,” he slouches slightly and leans on the door frame. “why didn’t you tell me you were coming? i could’ve picked you up from the airport.”

she waves his concerns away with a soft laugh. “it wouldn’t be a surprise if i asked you to pick me up, would it?” she looks down and extends her hands, a bouquet of flowers pushed into his chest. “these are for you.”

“what?” surprised, yet he still takes it into his hands. “what are these for?”

“i’m sorry,” she says softly, pursing her lips with a soft shrug. “i didn’t wanna do it over the phone or make you fly to london just so i can do it there… i blew things out of proportion and i pushed you away when all you wanted to do was help. i’m the one who burned us down.”

“they’re apology flowers?” he points out, slightly amused, scanning the bouquet with a smile. “you came all this way to say that to me?”

“i didn’t know how else to show you how sorry i really am.” she shifts uncomfortably and tucks her hair behind her ears. “i’ll spend forever making it up to you, i promise. i should have coped better and—”

“i missed you,” he says in a sigh. he puts the bouquet down on the top of his shoe back and lunges forward to throw his arms around her. he squeezes her tightly and buries his face into her hair. “you seriously should have told me you were coming.”

“matt—”

“i’m so excited that you’re finally here! i was taking kota out on a walk the other day and i walked past this new ice cream shop. i think you might really like it there,” matt starts to ramble, pulling away. “just give me 20 minutes and let’s head out for a date? how does that sound?”

she blinks, slightly taken aback by how he’s reacted. “what?”

“i haven’t been away that long, have i?” he stares at her curiously, furrowing his eyebrows. “you still love ice cream, don’t you?”

“yeah, but… you know… i was so mean to you for so long. shouldn’t you be a little angrier at me for what i did? i was such a bitch.”

“you were having a hard time,” he says immediately as she tries to berate herself. “i don’t blame you for that. it’s okay; we’re okay.” he pulls her into his apartment. “i’m just glad you’re back — my girlfriend’s back!”

“hi,” she greets with a smile, catching the older man off-guard as he approaches her. “fun summer break?”

sebastian flinches slightly and looks around him. there is nobody else here that she could be speaking to but him. “hi?” he smiles hesitantly. “it was. how was yours?”

“it was alright,” she shrugs, pressing her lips together into a thin line. she moves towards her bags to leave an empty space open for sebastian. “i got you something over the break. i went to los angeles for a couple of days.”

he tilts his head and jab his finger into his chest. “you got me something? on your trip?”

“yeah,” she grins. she turns away momentarily to grab something out of her bag and turns to present a pair of mugs to him. “i’m sorry i broke our matching mugs that one night in the paddocks. and i’m sorry i was a total bitch the entire season and that i was a big fat meanie, as dalton put it.”

he laughs, throwing his head back. if you’d asked him, he would have been more worried if they started the second half of the season with her still in the trenches.

it’s relieving to see that she’s gotten colour back into her face, making conversation and looking well put together. if her behaviour continued any longer, he’s afraid it would have become permanent at some point.

“you’re okay now?” sebastian grins, patting her on the head. she beams and nods. “okay enough to eat some ice cream?”

“yes,” she sighs exasperatedly with the roll of her eyes. “i can’t believe i haven’t eaten ice cream for 2 months. can you believe i stayed away that long?”

“honestly, i thought all this stemmed from the lack of ice cream,” sebastian jokes, poking her shoulder. “welcome back, kid. let’s make the best out of the rest of our season, okay? no more cowering into the corner — we face it head on.”

she nods firmly. “okay.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @c-losur3 @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @xoscar03 @nomie-11 @green-thots @tinyhrry @iwilleatyourgod @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

[neowinestainedress]

wait for me | lee jeno

title: wait for me

pairing: lee jeno x fem!reader

genre: smut

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), facef*cking, praise kink, minor degradation (more like teasing), (consensual) filming for one scene, pet names (princess, baby/babe, honey, good girl, silly girl, etc), mentions of p*rn, loss of virginity (it’s a social construct but you get the point), soft dom!jeno, innocent!reader, romantic but rough at times, a bit of aftercare

summary: jeno keeps his promise of turning you into a mess under him

wc: 6.195k

a/n: I take my time with things, but if I promise something, I will do it, so here’s a gift for my precious @everloving-avenue ♡ it took almost a year but the sequel to this drabble is here! you don’t have to read the first part to understand. the style is a bit different from the drabble because I do write in a different way, so I don’t know how it will flow if you read one right after the other, but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway. I missed writing just good old smut with no plot. Same thing as the original drabble; I don’t think I’m the best when it comes to writing first times, so I hope this doesn’t suck completely. ps: missed writing about Jeno ♡

general taglist: @froggyforyoongi, @wingsss45, @tddyhyck | send an ask if you want to be added (i hope i didn't forget anyone cause i didn't use a tag, but from now on i will so i'll have everyone in the same place)

“Can you take it all, pretty girl?” Jeno never looked more intimidating than he does now, looking down at you while you’re on your knees, trying to keep your gaze locked in his and don’t divert it, too embarrassed and distracted by his big, hard dick standing so close to your face. 

You gulp, humming lowly and moving closer to the head of his cock, your lips brushing against it, making him laugh tenderly. 

“We can wait if you’re not ready,” he says, the husky tone of his voice sends shivers down your back, and even if he has been nothing but nice and respectful to you, your brain can only focus on the sexiness of it. 

“No, I...” you hesitate, lowering your head as you suddenly feel shy, “… I don’t know what to do.” Since you called him that night, you had been more daring, but Jeno always focused on you, and the bravest thing you’ve done to him was a handjob. This feels like such a big step, and you’re terrified you’ll let him down, no matter how much he has been reassuring you. 

A smile curls his lips, but it’s more of a grin as he bends over and lifts your chin up. “I’m here to teach you, am I right?” 

You feel your throat close for a moment as you bravely meet his eyes, you can see he’s holding back, and that makes a fire ignite in you. You’d even let him be rough with you — at least that’s what you saw while lurking on… those sites — but you don’t feel like pushing your luck. So you nod, swinging your ass on your heels as your knees rub against the carpet to move closer to him again. 

“Good girl,” he coos, kissing you quickly before standing up like before. “Open up,” Jeno orders, this time holding the base of his dick as he prods the tip against your lips. 

You do as he says, tongue coming out of your mouth as you try to remember what you saw in a few videos. 

Jeno smiles, teasing his length on it, watching as you try so hard to don’t look away. He thinks you’re really cute, really fucking cute, to be honest. There’s a bit of fear and a lot of eagerness in your eyes, and after months, he can’t hold back anymore. His free hand reaches for your cheek as he slowly starts pushing in, whispering to you to be careful to don’t bite and keep your mouth wide open, until he’s halfway in. 

You flinch, eyes squeezing as you feel the flow of air already dim in your lungs, hands immediately finding his thighs to hold onto something. 

Jeno snickers, pulling out and shaking his head. “Silly girl, you have to breathe, that’s like the most important part.” 

You feel like he’s testing the ground, being bolder in the way he talks to you during these moments, and you have no idea why, but you find it hotter than you imagined you ever would. Your thighs clench as you feel your pussy throb just at the way he had called you a silly girl. 

“Through your nose, darling. You got it?” Something about the way he’s so condescending makes you dizzy and answer him right away, eyes fluttering as you nod and part your lips again, this time not set for failure. 

He pushes into your mouth again, it’s slow and he grunts as he slides in, feeling your warm, wet mouth wrap around him. 

You gag on it when the tip reaches the back of your throat, but Jeno’s ready to calm you down. 

“Breathe deeply, babe,” he says, voice dropped by an octave as his thumb caresses the portion of your skin between your jaw and neck. “You’re being such a good girl for me.” 

Your toes curl at his words, and you feel a heavy weight being lifted from your back. Jeno feels it in the way your throat relaxes and how your cheeks suck him in. 

If only he didn’t wait so long, he would stay still for a bit more, but now that he has you like this, he can’t control himself. “Can you suck?” He asks, voice shaking. 

“I guess,” you mumble before pulling away to take a deep breath. “You want me to move on it?” 

“Yeah,” he hums. “I fear I won’t be so gentle if I do all the job.” 

You quirk a brow, tilting your head as you stare at him. “What do you mean?” 

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just remember what I said, breathe through your nose, and you’ll be fine.” 

You’re not happy with the way he dismissed your question, but you ignore it anyway, taking his cock in your mouth another time. You close your eyes to concentrate more and you start to suck, bobbing your head slowly at first, until you find a rhythm he seems to like, and it’s not too much for you. 

It feels weird, yet, every time you feel like you’re doing something wrong — like when the lewd sounds of your mouth get louder when it hits too deep, or when your nails sink in his thighs hard, or when spit drools from your chin — Jeno only moans louder and the hold of his hand in your hair tightens. 

“Good girl,” he praises, and when you open your eyes, you see his head reclined, lips parted and eyelids sitting on his beautiful cheeks. “Taking my dick so well.” 

Your body burns up at his word, a mix of feelings you can’t explain getting to your brain, but you keep trying to do your best to work on him. Until something pops in your mind. You pull away, mostly to take your breath, but your hand immediately reaches his base to pump up and down. 

Jeno doesn’t say anything, he even manages to muffle the groan of disappointment he let out when your lips left him. He knows you need breaks, but he still doesn’t quite expect what you do next. The combo mouth-hand was not on his bingo today and he can’t believe you’re doing it. It takes you a while to find a rhythm — he finds it adorable how uncoordinated you are — but when you do… fuck, when you do. 

You’re moving slower than Jeno would go crazy for, but he likes it anyway. You’re trying your best, brows knitted in concentration, mouth and hand working together, and soft moans vibrating around him. Just the view is enough to push him closer to the edge, especially when you seem to relax completely. 

“Stay focused,” he calls you out, fearing you might stop doing the most important thing again; breathe. “Don’t get too lost, princess.” 

You hum, voice muffling around his length hitting deep in your throat while you open your eyes to look at him. His jaw is tense, and he’s breathing deeply through his nose, the veins of his arms are so visible, propping on his skin as his hand is closed in a fist. He’s trying not to look down at you, you won’t know it, but you look too hot right now, and if only his eyes move down, he would start fucking your face. 

But you can’t take it. It’s your first time, and he has to be gentle. He can’t act like an animal without self-control, because he is not, right? 

Yet the more you softly moan, and gag and suck him, hollowing your cheeks while your hand shily works on the base and his balls, the harder it gets. 

When he practically growls, you pull back, terrified you did something wrong, unaware eyes looking into his. 

“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I — I was careful with my teeth, I’m sure I wasn’t —” 

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he shuts you up with his thumb on your lips, now plumper and red with spit dripping from a corner down to your chin. “You did nothing wrong,” his breath is ragged and his pupils are dilated, his chest is heaving quickly while his hair is starting to wet around the crown of his forehead. “You’re being good, baby, too good.” 

You blink, confusingly staring at him. “Too good? How can I be too good?” 

Jeno sighs, caressing your cheeks, wetting them with the spit that stuck to his thumb. “You really have no idea how fucking hot you look right now, don’t you?” 

You purse your lips, shaking your head as you keep looking up. Feeling oh so small. 

A smirk paints his face. “Should I show you?” He asks, but you don’t get it until he grabs the phone from the nightstand and shakes it in his hand. 

“Oh, that,” you gasp, feeling your throat go dry. 

“Only if you want, of course,” he reassures, sensing your hesitation. 

“I — it’s fine. If it stays on your phone, it’s fine,” you say, feeling yourself get wetter at the thought of him taking a picture of you at such a moment. It’s also curiosity. Are you really that good? Do you look as pretty as the girls in those videos? You doubt that, even if they look like a mess they’re always so pretty, but you? Maybe Jeno is just being nice because it’s you. 

“Of course, princess. Trust me, I wouldn’t let anybody else see you like this.” And also, for all the times he is going to have you in that position, he would even delete it once you are done, if you prefer it. 

You nod, shifting in your place because you don’t know what to do, should you pose? Should you take it in your mouth again? But Jeno answers your questions when he grips your chin and forces your head up, you’re not as messed up as he wishes you were, but this will do. “Smile for me,” he says and you do, feeling awkward. You’d like to disappear if only you couldn’t see his cock throb in your peripherical view, he wants you so much. 

So, as soon as the phone moves away with praises coming out of his mouth, you lean in, taking it inside again. 

“Fuck,” Jeno curses, clutching the phone in his hand, struggling to show you the picture of you. “Let me fuck your face,” he pleads, words followed by ragged moans, “you can tap my thigh if it gets too much but — fuck — let me try.” 

You pull away, trying to follow him, but even if you are doing something to him, your brain is already lost in the pleasure, and the fact you have pretty much no idea what he’s talking about doesn’t help. “Like in the videos?” 

“I won’t be that harsh, I promise,” and even if pleasure is running in his body, you can hear the honesty in his voice. 

“O — okay, but…” you drift your gaze away, “can you film us? So I can see after?” 

A deep groan reverberates in his chest, followed by a low suck of air. He can’t believe this is real, that you are real. So innocent and pure, asking for such things. But he’s more than happy you are the one proposing stuff to him. “Yeah, fuck, yes.” 

You shouldn’t feel like this just hearing his voice and moan, but you do, and the way your panties are sticking to your pussy is getting unbearable, you can’t wait to have him down there, so you part your lips, and wait for him to take the invitation. 

Jeno doesn’t waste a second more, shoving himself down your throat, stopping to give you time to adjust to the rough intrusion of his girth before he starts moving his hips against your face. 

At first, it feels weird, you have no control, and the pace is faster than yours, but you try to remember what he said before; you focus on your breathing and the sweet sounds coming from his mouth. Mostly because the ones coming from yours are too dirty for you to bear with. 

“Fuck, babe, just like this,” he praises, one hand holding up the phone and the other caressing your cheek, trying to give you something soothing while he moves with force, it’s not too strong, surely not like one video you accidentally watched — and closed right away because it was way too much. This feels like a great compromise between your slower pace from before and the facefucking.

“My pretty baby, taking me so well,” Jeno moans, smiling at you when he sees a glint of a smile in your eyes. “You still don’t believe me, do you?” 

You try to answer him non-verbally, but the way he’s thrusting into you doesn’t give your head any room for movement. He tsks, shaking his head disappointedly. “Don’t believe me when I call you beautiful when we go out on dates, don’t believe me when I whisper it to you in the morning, and not even now? Do I really have to show you?” 

You feel like choking, but not on his dick. It’s because of his voice, his words, and the tone he’s using. Your breath falters more when he turns the phone to you, the video playing what you were doing just a few moments ago. You should think it’s weird, humiliating even, but you don’t. It’s turning you on even more, and you do look pretty like he says. 

“See how beautiful you are even like this?” His voice is heavy, reaching deep into your core, making your pussy clench around nothing and drool out more excitement. “Your glossy eyes, your pretty lips stretched open just for me. Do you believe me now, princess?” 

You nod, nails digging into his thigh because the video and him are deconcentrating you and you fail to do the most important thing; breathe. You gasp when he pulls out, a thread of spit connects your lips with the tip of his cock as you sputter, trying to catch your breath. 

“Are you okay?” He asks worriedly, throwing the phone on the bed and staring at you with a concerned look on your face. “You know you should stop before reaching your limit?” 

“I know,” you cry out, cleaning your chin before lifting your gaze at him. “I was doing fine, but I… I forgot how to breathe.” 

Jeno snickers, caressing your lips with his thumb, smearing the mess on your chin another time. “You forgot how to breathe, baby? Didn’t fuck you yet, and you’re already my dumb baby?” He’s clearly testing the waters another time, you discussed these things a lot, but Jeno knows that videos and stories on the internet are a completely different thing from reality and he’s not so confident everything you think turns you on will actually turn you on. But apparently dirty talking, a mix between a lot of praises and just a hint of degradation, turns you on for real. He watches your thighs clench and your boobs rise while a choked moan leaves your lips. 

He smiles, or better, grins, tapping your face with his cock. “Will you let me fuck your mouth until I come, silly girl? Should we see just how dumb you get on me?” 

You nod eagerly, moving even closer with your knees, sure by now you were going to have marks of that night tomorrow. But not even the discomfort can stop you from letting him have his way with you. 

You moan louder when he pushes inside you this time, hands reaching his thighs for support while he starts moving quickly in and out, groans falling copiously from his tongue, balls slapping against your chin, and strong grip on the side of your face. 

You can’t take it anymore and you start rubbing your thighs together, trying to get a tiny bit of relief as his moans progressively get lower, aggressive and messier. He always tries to hold back but you’re loving this side of him. 

“Where — fuck — where do you want me to come?” He asks, slowing down a bit, only now realizing you’re wearing your favourite tank top and he doesn’t want to ruin your clothes, but were you ready for the whole thing? “Shirt?” When you shake your head he tries to think of something else, but the only option is not much better. “Floor?” But you shake your head again, and there’s only one thing left, “mouth?” You nod, eyes beaming, and he loses it. “Fuck,” he groans, hips stilling against your face as the orgasm hits him, making him empty inside of you. He drags out to don’t make you choke on his cum and then pulls away, still shuddering and moaning, expecting you to spit, having decided to play with fire and surely regretting it, but you don’t. Your face is contorted in an expression he can’t read, but you swallow everything, and then look up at him with innocent eyes. 

“Was I good?” 

“Fuck, honey, yes,” he says, lifting you up by wrapping an arm around your waist, making you lay on the bed. “So good,” he praises. 

You smile but feel shy once again when he doesn’t start anything more. You’re aching, and you want him. Everything. His mouth and fingers are not enough anymore, you need him now. 

“Jeno,” you moan. “Please.” 

“Yeah?” he asks nonchalantly. 

You huff, rolling your eyes. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Oh, no, princess, I want to hear you. Use your big girl words,” he orders.

“I want you to fuck me,” you breathe out, barely holding eye contact with him. 

He smiles victoriously, feeling his dick harden again just from hearing your voice say those filthy words. “Are you sure?” He checks in, quirking a brow.  

You hum. “I’m dripping,” you whisper, feeling too conscious about the mess between your legs. “I’m ready.” 

Jeno tried to postpone this as much as he could, not because he didn’t want you, but because he wanted to wait for you and respect your time. He knows you tend to jump into things head first, but after a brief look at you, he knows this time isn’t the case. Since the daring call, you two experimented a lot, so this was the right moment to give you everything. 

“Stop me if anything makes you uncomfortable, alright?” 

You nod, silently watching as he adjusts between your legs, pulling down your stained panties before throwing them to the side. You don’t expect his lips to leave kisses on your thighs, quite frankly you feel more eager than usual to get what you wanted right away, but it’s clear he has other plans. 

You still shy away every time he’s between your legs, feeling too conscious about how intimate you two are being. And it makes you even more dizzy when Jeno breathes in deeply before sucking on your clit. 

“Jeno,” you cry out, covering your face with your hands. 

“What, baby? How many times do I have to tell you not to cover yourself?” He scolds, eyes staring at you from between your legs. “Move your hands away or I’ll leave.” 

You barely give him time to finish that your hands are sitting at the sides of your body, and your hips are bucking up, inviting him to take care of you. 

“Eager baby,” he whispers before spreading your thighs wider, sinking down to lick your wetness. “Taste so good, princess.” 

“It’s weird,” you mumble, you truly can’t get what he finds so hot about it, and how good you taste. 

Jeno clicks his tongue, groaning in disappointment. “You don’t have to taste it,” he says, giving another harsh suck to your clit that makes your thighs shudder, “it’s all for me, and I love it.” 

Your head rolls back when he starts moving his tongue on you as soon as he’s done with his words. He’s neat, like his usual, sucking and licking until he has you shaking underneath him. But usually — the four times you’ve done this before — you just lay there. This time your fingers find their way in his hair, tangling in it as you push him closer. 

“Fuck, babe,” he moans, voice muffled against your body. “I’m not going anywhere,” he giggles and the vibrations push your brain in a spiral while your head rolls back. 

You bite down a high-pitched moan when he pushes two fingers inside you after collecting your arousal and his spit. If you want to take him — and you do — he has to get you ready for the big thing —literally. So he sucks on your clit and pumps in and out of you faster, scissoring his two digits every now and then to stretch you out more. 

“So welcoming, angel,” he hums, pulling away from your clit with a loud pop, “do you want me that much?” You must be particularly turned on because his fingers slide into you with ease, more than the other times when it took him a while to get you accommodated to the intrusion. 

“Yeah, I…” your words die in your mouth as you stare at the ceiling, feeling so, so close to the high. It’s a feeling you know quite well now, but it still catches you by surprise every time. And you fear you will never get used to any of this, not anytime soon, at least. 

“You?” He coos. “You want my cock in you? Want to finally know what it feels like to be fucked nice and deep?” 

You want the mattress to eat you as he speaks those words, but your body reacts in a completely different way, burning up as your orgasm washes over you, leaving you breathless against the bed. 

Jeno pulls his fingers out of you, sucking them clean when he’s sure your watching. “Tastes so good, no matter what you say, baby.” 

You let out a shaky breath, feeling your body buzz in ecstasy. 

“Come here,” he says, leaning in, lips to lips, “taste yourself on me.” You kiss him with no hesitation, not because you’re eager to taste your cum, but because you want to feel him as close as you can. 

“Jeno, please,” you beg, cupping his face before pulling him into another kiss. “I need you.” 

“I know you do,” he says, softly caressing your side. “Can you take it, though?” 

You nod swiftly, hips desperately grinding against him, feeling his cock against your skin. “I’ll be good, I promise.” 

Jeno smiles softly, finding it so cute how you still worry about him when you should focus on yourself. He kisses you while his right hand is busy rummaging in the stand next to the bed to find lube. 

“But I’m wet,” you complain when you realize what he’s doing, feeling a bit guilty because maybe it’s still not enough. 

“Yes, you are,” he agrees, kissing your body as he slowly stands on his knees and positions you better on the bed. “But I’m big, and I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You purse your lips in a thin line, trying to don’t overthink this, but Jeno gets something is wrong. 

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of help. Also, lube can make things funnier, so why are you sulking?” 

“I’m not, I just — I want to be good like the girls you had be—” 

“No comparing, you are you, and I love you,” he stops you before you can finish, opening the bottle of lubricant but still waiting for your full consent. “Just trust me on this, alright?” 

“Yeah, I trust you,” you breathe out, voice shaking, and as you stare as he pours the cold liquid on his hard dick you realize this might be the smartest choice. Also, you have to remind yourself that porn is fake, and probably not even as funny as they make it out to be, so why would you want to ruin the fun with your boyfriend just to copy it?

“For anything, even if it’s just discomfort, stop me, alright?” 

You nod, feeling your nerves out of your skin, but Jeno wants you down on earth with him, and he needs to hear your voice. “Honey? What do you do if something’s wrong?” 

It takes you a while to realize he’s talking to you and even a bit more to answer. “I tell you,” you stutter, searching for his eyes because this is getting real and all your confidence is falling apart. 

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing you on the lips. 

When the tip of his cock presses against your entrance you know for sure using lube was the best idea he ever had in his entire life. Your jaw slacks, hands immediately reaching his back to sink in the skin of his shoulders as your chest rises heavily. 

“Honey, you’re too tense,” he says, pulling away. 

“No, I’m not,” you cry out, trying to push him in by locking your legs around his waist but he’s stronger than you and doesn’t let you do the dumbest thing you could ever do. 

“We don’t have to do it, you know right?” 

“But I want to,” you whine. “It’s just… big.” 

“Then we can wait.” 

“No, just… ease the tip in and then sink slowly,” you breathe out. 

“But you need to relax,” he says. “Let me do something.” It’s not what you expect him to do, but when his lips start leaving soft pecks on your skin, you can only relax under his attention. “That’s it, princess, loosen up,” he whispers against your neck, trailing down to kiss your chest, noting you’re still dressed in your camisole and he has to move it to have access to your skin. “Can I lift this off? Want to feel you close to me.” 

You hum, nodding your head in small movements as you try to relax your muscles. He quickly takes it off of you before going back to your skin, kissing and sucking, until goosebumps pervade you, distracting you while the fat head of his cock presses against your slit and you barely even notice.  

Jeno hums when he quickly glances up and you’re too lost in pleasure to tighten up around him, but he doesn’t push further in. “Good girl. Here,” he says, searching for your hand on the mattress, “hold my hand.” 

You do as he says, parting your legs when you realize he’s back where he was before, barely inside. “More, please,” you implore, meeting his eyes that turn into half-moons for a brief moment as he smiles back at you. 

He doesn’t ask more questions, afraid of tensing you up again, and pushes past your entrance. 

“Mhh,” you bite back, forcefully trapping your lower lips between your teeth to don’t let out weird sounds. 

Jeno stares at you, trying to study your body as he keeps moving, soothing circles on your waist. He’s barely halfway in and he’s not sure about what to do. 

“It’s… it’s weird,” you mumble, feeling shy when you two make eye contact. 

“Bad weird or good weird?” 

You shrug. “I don’t know, it’s not bad, it doesn’t hurt,” you reassure him. “You can push in, I’m relaxed.” 

You are, your shoulders are not tensed and your legs are parted on your own, your breath is also much more regular than before. So he does, he slowly buttons in, taking your breath away. 

You gasp, head rolling back as you feel full like never before. 

Jeno wants to back away when you start… laughing. “Are you okay?” 

You nod swiftly, “Yeah,” you smile. “It’s… I… I don’t know how to explain this,” you try to reason but truly there’s nothing rational about this. It’s the surprise because you can’t believe it happened and it’s the way it feels as your pussy automatically clenches around him. “I think you can fuck me,” you say, feeling the shame disappear. 

“I can take more time for you to adj—”

“I’m dripping and I’m ready for you, it doesn’t hurt,” you say, cupping his chin. “I’ve panicked about this moment enough, I know what I’m letting you doing.” You truly did, reading around way too much about what the first time felt like, knowing it wasn’t supposed to hurt or bleed like society said, and trusting him enough to do this. 

Jeno fights a chuckle to don’t ruin this completely and starts moving in and out of you. Studying your face with every move, his thrusts are slow at first, not only because he doesn’t want to push you too far, but also because he wants to see your reaction and feel you. Your eyes are closed while your lips are parted to let out the softest whimpers and moans, one hand is still holding his tight while the other is on his shoulder to hold onto him. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, kissing you passionately, starting to pick up a rhythm when you don’t squirm away but your hips roll against his instead. “How does it feel?” 

“Good,” you cry out, “so good.” 

“Yeah? Told you it would feel good,” he groans, hips dragging in and out of you at a steady rhythm. He’d love to go faster, but he doesn’t want to hurt you or turn this into a bad experience. He wants to take it slow, and make you feel loved. “Better than those stupid videos you watch. You don’t need them to learn, they’re bullshit anyway, you have me.”

You groan, trying to hide away as you remember how he had caught you more than once as you tried to learn how to get better at this, no matter how many times he had told you he was there to guide you. “I will — I will disappoint you,” you cry out. 

“Yeah, are you sure?” He hums, kissing you briefly, hitting harder inside you, making you whimper a broken moan. “Then if you’re so afraid you’ll — fuck — disappoint me, it means I’ll have to fuck you more, ugh, how’s that sound?” 

You try to come up with words that make sense, but you hardly can breathe. It feels too much, lost in what’s happening now, and what is yet to happen. The idea he won’t hold back anymore, that at any chance he will try to make you feel good, and you will do too, sending your brain in a spiral. 

“Oh, imagining it already, nasty baby? One taste and you’re already addicted to this?” Jeno mocks playfully, cooing in your ear, sending waves of electricity down your spine. “Next time I won’t fuck you nice and slow on the bed, no,” he chuckles, brushing away the hair that is sticking to your sweating forehead. “I’ll get a bit rougher with you, do you want that?” 

You barely wait for him to finish the sentence and you’re already nodding, gripping harder on his shoulders, nails sinking in his skin, as you already savour the moment. “On the desk,” you utter shyly, slowly parting your eyes to meet his, dark and intense, piercing into your soul. 

He snickers, dick throbbing inside of you because he can’t wait to slowly discover all the little things you secretly fantasize about, he wants to watch your innocence fall apart right in front of his eyes, and he wants to be the one tearing it apart. He wants you to trust him enough to let him inside all your darkest and deepest secrets. 

“You want to be fucked on the desk?” He taunts, lightly slapping your ass, drawing a louder moan from you. “Yeah? Want to be bent over my desk?” 

You nod swiftly, trapping your tongue between your teeth as the intense feeling starts growing more and more in your stomach. “Wa-want you to pull my hair.” You’re not even sure you will like it, but you feel like everything is worth a shot with Jeno, you trust him, and you know he will respect you if you won’t like something. Even harsher things that scare you a bit, they don’t look so scary with him. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, rolling his head back, beads of sweat pearling his forehead. “You’ll kill me,” he whispers, teeth gritted as he tries to don’t sound too raw with his moans, but it’s hard when your pussy is gripping him so tight, your face is rolled back in bliss, your boobs are bouncing with his every move, and dirty words are coming out of your mouth. He’s not used to this and your curses, it’s used to your avoiding gazes and your small imprecations that are not curse words. 

You’re not used to this either. It’s like you opened the door to a new world and you don’t quite know how to move in it. There are endless possibilities, and you’d love to grasp them all now, but you can’t. You fear you can barely face what’s coming right now. 

“Weird,” you breathe out, chest heaving quicker as Jeno’s thrusts get faster and the hold of your legs around his waist tightens. “Too much.” 

“It’s not too much, princess. You can take it,” he says, kissing your cheeks. 

“No, it’s — it’s,” you choke on your words ‘cause you can’t quite explain how you’re feeling right now. 

Jeno kisses your lips again, it’s messier than before, and in the tangle of it, he asks if you want him to stop, but you don’t, and you almost scream a negative answer. “Please, no, don’t stop. I just — I feel like — I…” 

“It’s stronger than the other times?” He finishes for you, at least that’s what he can get from the way your body is squirming under him and how much cum is coating his dick. 

You nod, squeezing your eyes hard and opening your mouth to let as much air possible inside of your lungs. “It’s good, it’s so good, but I… I can’t take it.”

“You can, honey, you can,” he whispers, soothing you with circles on your hip. “Breathe deeply, like before.” 

You’d love to curse at him because how can you focus on your breathing during this specific moment? It’s impossible, and you don’t even want to. You like the way you feel upside down, it’s chaotic but good, and you don’t want it to stop. 

You pull him closer, kissing him harder, running your fingers through his hair to stop torturing his poor shoulders. “Want you, please.” 

“I’m here,” he hums. “Come with me?” 

You nod in a non-verbal reply, trying to don’t get overwhelmed by the feeling but it’s difficult, especially when his hand reaches for your clit and starts playing with it, and his moans get louder and messier. He sounds so hot, and that’s the last thing you need to let your pleasure invade you. 

“Jeno,” you scream his name, arching your back off the bed as pleasure runs through your body and soon after the same happens to him, filling you with his cum as he lazily pumps in and out to ride your orgasms. 

“Fuck,” he curses, letting his forehead fall on yours, pushing your legs closer to your chest before his movements come to a stop, and he feels like collapsing on top of you. He doesn’t, he keeps his body up with his elbows as he leaves pecks on your face. 

“Are you alright, love?” Jeno asks after a few seconds and you can only nod, still short of breath. He leaves one more kiss on your lips before pulling out of you, making you sigh at the loss of contact when he rolls to the side and jumps out of bed. “Stay right there,” he says before walking out of the room. 

“As if I can walk,” you giggle in a whisper, feeling your legs wobbly and your heart exploding out of your ribcage. You’re still lost in that daydream when Jeno comes up and starts to clean you up, doing his best to don’t overstimulate you — he’s got time for that.

You don’t say anything, only stare at him while his black hair falls on his forehead and you can’t believe you got so lucky. Once he’s done, he comes by your side, pulling close to his body and leaving kisses on your face. The one that breaks the silence again it’s him. 

“So, how was that? Good as you expected or did it let you down?” 

You giggle, moving your head so you can meet his eyes. “You really think this could’ve let me down?” 

“Well, I don’t know, I thought you were pretty vanilla and there you were, begging me to bend you over and pull your hair,” he chuckles, caressing your cheek. “Maybe your fantasies were different than this.” 

“It was amazing,” you smile, fighting the embarrassment caused by his words as you look at him. “Thank you for waiting for me.” 

Jeno smiles, eyes lighting up before his lips fall on your forehead again. “I would wait for you forever.” 

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

[raebae0001]

Where Spring Meets Winter

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

warning: angst, fluff, the usual stuff. my bad if it seems rushed oops. not proofread :) aha

wc: 12.6k+ (oops)

a/n: anyways ive been rewatching tinker-bell and my opinion still stands that secret of the wings is the best. that inspired this, the story of clarion and milori, my heart argh, heartbroken at 8 fr

hope you enjoy, dont take this seriously i was just messing around lol, im not completely happy with it, it feels like its all over the place but oh well, i might edit it more in the future who knows. this is also very dialogue heavy in some parts, and for that i apologize in advance, but it is what it is

oh yeah suguru and shoko make an appearance, not much though

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting hues of pink and lavender across the sky, the fairies of Pixie Hollow retreat to their homes. Laughter and chatter soften into the night’s embrace, and soon, the warm glow of their lights fades, leaving the tranquil sound of rustling leaves in the warm-season woods.

You, however, have no intention of resting.

Rumors of a beast—something monstrous lurking at the border where spring meets winter—have been swirling for days, growing with each retelling. And while your advisors have urged caution, you can’t ignore the pull in your heart. You are meant to protect your people, and proving yourself before your coronation feels paramount. But beneath your sense of duty, there’s another reason drawing you to the border. A curiosity. A longing for something more.

The Winter Woods have always intrigued you.

As the warm-season fairies sleep, you flutter silently through the woods, careful to avoid the watchful eyes of any lingering fairies. The moon casts a soft, silvery light on the landscape, illuminating your path. The soft hum of night insects fades as you near the log bridge—the only thing connecting the two worlds. Your heart quickens as you reach the edge of the border, where spring kisses winter.

The view before you is breathtaking. The snow-covered landscape of the Winter Woods shimmers under the moonlight, each flake reflecting the light like tiny diamonds. The trees, their branches heavy with frost, stand like statues in the stillness. Everything about the scene is cold, yet serene—almost magical.

Your breath hitches as you stare, captivated by the beauty that lies just beyond your reach. You flutter closer to the log bridge, your wings trembling with anticipation. The temptation to step into the snow, to feel the coolness against your skin, overwhelms you. Just one touch, you think. Just to know what it’s like to feel the cold.

Slowly, you descend, your feet landing softly on the log. Your heart thuds in your chest, caught between excitement and caution. But just as you inch closer to the line where spring and winter meet, a soft rustle breaks through the silence.

Your instincts flare to life, your body tensing. The beast.

You quickly withdraw your hand, scanning the trees and snow-laden bushes. The night is quiet, but the rustling continues, coming from a cluster of frost-covered bushes just a few paces ahead.

You narrow your eyes, trying to pierce the shadows beyond the snow. There—movement. You catch sight of a tuft of white amidst the bushes, and your heart leaps into your throat.

“What goes there?” you call out, your voice steady despite the wariness tightening your chest. The breeze carries your words across the quiet divide, but there is no immediate answer. Only more movement.

The figure steps out from behind the bushes, brushing off the snow from his shoulders. He stands tall—taller than any fairy you have ever seen—and he moves with a grace that suggests no threat. His snow-white hair glows under the moonlight, and his cerulean blue eyes sparkle like the frozen lakes in the depths of winter.

He raises his hands in a gesture of peace, sensing your readiness to pounce. “Easy now,” he says, his voice smooth, almost teasing. “I’m not your beast.”

You hesitate, lowering yourself from your defensive stance as you realize this is no monster. He’s a fairy, like you—though not at all like you. His wings are sharp, crystalline, catching the light with every slight movement. Everything about him is cold and regal, a stark contrast to the warmth you embody.

“Who are you?” you demand, still keeping your distance, though your curiosity flares at the sight of him.

The winter fairy chuckles softly, running a hand through his snow-dusted hair. “Lord Gojo Satoru,” he replies, bowing with exaggerated flair. “Guardian of the Winter Woods. And you, little spring blossom, are far from where you should be.”

Your eyes narrow at his casual tone. “I am no ordinary fairy,” you shoot back, your pride flaring. “I am Princess [Name] of the warm seasons, and I’ve come here to face the threat that lurks at the border.”

His eyebrow arches in amusement. “A princess? How charming.” He folds his arms, clearly unperturbed by your title. “But I assure you, there’s no threat here. You’re the first warm fairy I’ve seen in ages.”

You feel a flush rise to your cheeks, though you aren’t sure if it’s from embarrassment or frustration. “Then what are you doing lurking near the border, Lord Gojo?”

He grins, a mischievous glint in his cerulean eyes. “I could ask you the same thing, Princess. Shouldn’t you be preparing for a coronation rather than hunting imaginary beasts?”

You blink in surprise. How did he know about your coronation?

“I’ve heard things,” he says, as if reading your thoughts. “Word travels, even in the frozen north.”

Your shoulders stiffen. “I’m not here for pleasantries. If there’s no threat, then I’ll leave.”

But as you turn to go, you feel a pull—a deep, unexplainable longing to stay. Something about this winter fairy intrigues you. His playful manner, his easy confidence—it’s so unlike the fairies of your court, where everything is formal and measured.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to leave,” Satoru calls out, his tone softening. “The border is more interesting than it appears.”

You pause, glancing over your shoulder. “What do you mean?”

He steps closer, but still keeps his distance, his gaze drifting to the log bridge between your worlds. “There’s more than snow and frost beyond the border, you know. Just as there’s more to you than what your court sees.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. It’s as if he can see right through you, past the title and the duties that weigh on your shoulders.

A silence settles between you, the crisp winter air mingling with the gentle warmth of spring. It’s strange how comfortable you feel in his presence, how natural it seems to stand at the edge of two worlds with him.

“Why do you stay so close to the border?” you ask, your curiosity finally getting the better of you.

Satoru smiles, his eyes softening. “Because sometimes... I wonder what it’s like on the other side.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You understand that feeling all too well.

________________________

Satoru made his way to the border, the crisp, cold air of the Winter Woods biting at his skin, though he barely noticed it anymore. Nights like this, when sleep eluded him, he often found himself wandering near the edge of his world. The border was the closest he could get to feeling something different—to catching a glimpse of the warmth he longed for, the seasons of sun and bloom that only existed on the other side. The icy chill of winter was all he had ever known, but he had dreamed of the warmth of spring, summer, and fall since he was young.

As he approached the boundary where frost met the thaw, he slowed his pace. The faint sound of trickling water from a melting patch of snow reached his ears. The border was always quiet, still, like the two seasons had come to a delicate truce here. And yet, tonight, something was different. A soft shimmer caught his eye—a glimmer in the moonlight.

Fairy dust.

He paused, heart quickening with curiosity and something else—something deeper that pulled at him. His sharp, crystalline wings fluttered lightly as he inched closer, his breath catching in his throat as he spotted her. A fairy. But not like any fairy he had ever seen.

She stood at the edge of the log bridge, where the warmth of spring kissed the cold breath of winter. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back, flowing in soft waves that shimmered in the pale light. She wore a gown the color of sunshine—golden, radiant, and fluttering lightly in the cool breeze. The fabric swirled around her like the very embodiment of light, glowing against the backdrop of snow and ice. She was mesmerizing, a vision of warmth and life, a stark contrast to the cold, stillness of his world.

Satoru’s breath hitched in his chest. He had never seen anyone so beautiful.

Instinctively, he ducked behind a snow-covered bush, his sharp wings folding against his back as he watched her from a distance. He felt a strange mixture of awe and longing. Her presence, the way she stood there gazing across the border, seemed otherworldly to him. She belonged to the seasons of warmth and growth—worlds he had only ever dreamed of. And yet, here she was, so close to the winter’s edge.

Her eyes, wide and filled with curiosity, scanned the Winter Woods, and for a moment, he wondered if she could sense him, sense his gaze on her. Her gaze lingered on the snow-laden landscape, and Satoru held his breath as her eyes seemed to search for something beyond the frost, beyond the cold, towards him.

What was she doing here? Why had she come so close to the border? He could see the faint trembling of her wings, as if she was holding back, resisting the temptation to cross into the cold of his world. The moonlight illuminated her features—her delicate face framed by her flowing hair, her eyes gleaming with a mix of caution and wonder.

Satoru found himself captivated not only by her beauty but by the way she looked at the Winter Woods, with a sense of wonder that mirrored his own feelings about the world on the other side of the border. She seemed drawn to the winter, just as he was drawn to the warmth of the sun.

Without thinking, he shifted in the snow, causing a soft rustling sound. Her eyes snapped toward the noise, her body tensing. For a moment, he froze, unsure of what to do. Should he reveal himself? Should he stay hidden? He had never been so close to a fairy from the warm seasons before, and now that he was, the sight of her had rendered him speechless.

His heart pounded as he watched her search the darkness for him, her wings fluttering softly as she narrowed her eyes. For a moment, he wondered if she would see him, if she would discover him hiding among the snow-covered bushes. And yet, part of him wanted her to find him, wanted her to know he was there.

He couldn’t help but admire her courage—standing at the edge of the border, so close to a world that wasn’t hers, drawn by something just as he was.

_______________________

Though reluctant, you decide to stay a little longer, feeling an inexplicable pull toward the mysterious Lord Gojo. His presence is unlike anything you’ve encountered before. You’ve heard of the Winter Woods’ legendary guardian, but you never expected him to be so young—or so intriguing, with an air of quiet confidence that seems to draw you in.

Satoru makes his way to the border, his steps soft and deliberate, until he reaches the line where snow meets the thawed earth of your world. Without saying a word, he sits down, remaining just on his side of the boundary, the frost glistening at his feet. His eyes find yours, and though he doesn’t speak, there’s an unspoken invitation in his gaze.

After a moment’s hesitation, you flutter down and sit beside him, keeping to your side of the line where the ground is warm. The two of you sit inches apart, yet it feels as though you’re worlds away—divided not just by snow and earth, but by the vast contrast between winter and warmth.

For a while, neither of you say anything, content to sit in the moonlit stillness. The only sound is the soft rustling of the wind through the trees and the occasional creak of frost settling in the Winter Woods. You can feel Satoru’s presence beside you, quiet and steady, yet somehow comforting.

Eventually, Satoru breaks the silence. “What’s it like, beyond the warmth?” he asks, his voice soft, yet filled with curiosity as his gaze stays trained on the moon.

You glance at him, slightly taken aback by the question. His profile is illuminated by the moonlight, his white hair shimmering under its glow. His sharp features and crystal-blue eyes are strikingly beautiful in the soft light, and for a moment, you find yourself distracted by him.

It’s only when he turns to look at you that you realize you’ve been staring. Your breath catches, and you quickly avert your gaze, heat rising to your cheeks. His soft chuckle doesn’t help, and you clear your throat, trying to recover your composure.

“It’s... different,” you begin, your voice a little unsteady at first. “The warmth, I mean.” You pause for a moment, wondering how best to describe the lands beyond the Winter Woods. Everyone knows of the four lands—one for each season. But the experiences, the feelings, the colors—that’s where the true difference lies.

“In Spring Hollow,” you say, your voice softening, “it’s always spring. The world is in constant bloom. Flowers of every color stretch across the fields and forests, and the air is sweet with their fragrance. Everything feels fresh and alive, as though the earth is awakening each day. The colors are vibrant—pinks, greens, yellows, every shade you can imagine.”

Satoru listens quietly, his cerulean eyes watching you with keen interest. “Are there butterflies?” he asks, his voice laced with curiosity. “We don’t have any here. It’s too cold for them.”

You smile gently, remembering the delicate wings fluttering through the air. “Yes, there are so many butterflies. They flit through the flowers like little jewels, their wings shimmering in the sunlight. It’s hard to imagine spring without them. They’re part of the magic—everything is alive, from the smallest flower to the tiniest insect.”

Satoru seems to absorb your words, his gaze distant as if trying to imagine a world where creatures as delicate as butterflies can thrive. “That sounds... enchanting,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

“It is,” you agree softly. “In Spring Hollow, everything feels like it’s just beginning. There’s a kind of lightness to it, a sense of endless possibilities.”

Satoru nods thoughtfully but doesn’t speak. His curiosity remains, though, and after a moment, he asks, “What about summer? What’s it like in the Summer Glade?”

You take a breath, thinking of the endless golden days of the Summer Glade. “It’s always hot there, always bright. The sun hangs high in the sky from dawn until dusk, and the warmth fills the air. Everything is alive and buzzing—birds, insects, animals. The colors are bold—deep reds, vibrant yellows, intense oranges. It’s... intense, in every sense of the word.”

He looks back at you, intrigued. “So it’s always hot? Never cool, even at night?”

You smile. “Even at night, it stays warm. The stars seem closer, and the air smells of blossoms. The nights are filled with the hum of insects and the songs of summer birds. It’s as if the whole world is wide awake, all the time.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow slightly in thought, his gaze still locked on you. “That sounds... overwhelming.”

You laugh softly. “It can be. Summer is full of energy, and it never rests. But there’s beauty in that too—in the brightness, the vitality.”

He stays quiet for a moment, processing your words, before he asks, “And autumn? What’s it like in the Autumn Wood?”

You close your eyes for a moment, remembering the Autumn Wood. “It’s like a slow, never-ending sunset,” you say softly. “The leaves are always falling, but the trees never go bare. The colors—deep oranges, reds, golds—they fill the landscape. The air is cool and crisp, and everything feels calm, like the world is preparing to sleep. There’s a comfort in it, a sense that everything is slowing down, but in a peaceful way.”

Satoru remains quiet for a moment, as if absorbing the images you’ve painted with your words. His gaze is distant, thoughtful.

“And you,” he begins after a pause, “you’ve lived with the warmth all your life?”

You nod. “Yes. The warmth has always been my home. I’ve known the colors, the life, the energy that comes with the lands of Spring, Summer, and Autumn.”

He turns to look at you, his gaze steady. “But... you’ve always wanted to feel the cold, haven’t you?”

You blink, startled by how accurately he’s read your thoughts. You lower your gaze, looking at the thin line of snow that separates your world from his. “Yes,” you admit quietly. “I’ve always dreamed of the frost, of the snow... something I’ve never known.”

The silence that follows is thick with understanding. Satoru’s eyes linger on you, his expression softening as he studies your face, as if seeing the longing there that you’ve never spoken aloud.

“What about you?” you ask, leaning slightly closer, your eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What’s winter like? The cold, the Winter Woods… the animals?” Your heart races at the thought of discovering more about the world you’ve only dreamed of, and you can’t help but feel a sense of excitement bubble up inside you.

As Satoru looks at you, he can’t help but notice the genuine intrigue lighting up your features. Your eagerness is palpable, and it draws him in, making him want to share everything about his world. It strikes him then how much you both are alike. You’re two fairies separated by seasons but united by a shared longing to explore the unknown. He senses the whispers of danger that surround both your worlds—caution that urges you to stay safe within your borders. Yet here you are, willing to risk it all for just a glimpse into the other side.

“Winter...” Satoru begins, his voice animated and warm, “is beautiful in its own way. The snow blankets everything, transforming the landscape into something ethereal. It’s a world where silence reigns, broken only by the soft crunch of snow underfoot.” He leans back slightly, relishing the chance to share his beloved Winter Woods with you. “The trees stand tall and bare, their branches heavy with frost. Everything glistens under the moonlight, and during the day, the sun bounces off the snow, creating a million tiny rainbows. The air is crisp and biting, and when it snows, it feels as though the world is wrapped in a soft, white quilt.”

You lean in closer, completely captivated by his enthusiasm. “That sounds so magical,” you breathe, picturing the stunning winter landscape in your mind. “And what about the animals?”

Satoru’s smile widens, his eyes glimmering with excitement. “We have so many fascinating creatures! The snow owls glide silently through the trees. They’re magnificent, with wide wings and piercing golden eyes that seem to see right through the darkness. They’re often our companions on the coldest nights.”

You feel a shiver of delight at the thought. “What else? What do you and the other winter fairies do?”

His expression brightens even more. “We create beauty from the cold. We work together to sculpt intricate designs from the ice, turning the frozen landscape into an art form. Each winter, we host contests to see who can create the most stunning ice sculpture. We build towering castles that sparkle like jewels under the moonlight, and sometimes we carve out entire scenes from folklore, bringing our stories to life.”

You watch him intently, hanging onto his every word. “That sounds amazing and so much fun!” A thought lingers in your mind, stirring curiosity. Just then, a leaf drifts gracefully down from a nearby branch, carried by the wind. It twirls through the air, its vibrant colors standing out against the stark white of the winter woods before landing softly in the cold snow beyond the border. You can’t help but feel a pang of longing as you watch it disappear into the depths of Satoru’s world. “But how do you preserve life in such a harsh environment? Is there a way for you to keep the plants thriving despite the cold?”

A spark of pride ignites in his gaze as he explains, “We blanket the plants with soft ice, preserving their life through the cold. It’s like giving them a gentle hug to keep them warm until spring returns. It’s a way of ensuring that when the thaw comes, everything bursts forth in beauty once more.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you can’t help but admire the depth of his connection to his world. “So, winter isn’t just about the cold. It’s about creating and protecting life?”

“Exactly,” he replies, nodding enthusiastically. “We are guardians of this season. There’s a harmony in the cold—an understanding that even in the starkness, life continues. Our role is to ensure that beauty thrives beneath the snow. And sometimes, when the northern lights dance across the sky, it feels like the entire world is alive with magic.”

As he speaks, you can see the passion emanating from him, and it fills you with warmth. The way he talks about winter reflects not just his love for his home, but also a deep appreciation for the delicate balance of life and nature.

You feel a connection bloom between you—two fairies sharing their worlds, their dreams, and their hopes. “Maybe we aren’t so different after all,” you say softly, your voice filled with understanding. “Both longing for the other side, yet so intrigued by what lies beyond our reach.”

He nods, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Exactly. That’s why this border is so special. It’s a place where we can share our stories, our dreams, and maybe even bridge the gap between our worlds.”

In that moment, with the moonlight illuminating your shared space, you realize that both of you are bound by an unspoken promise: to continue exploring the unknown, together.

___________

As you stroll back to your home nestled in the heart of Pixie Hollow, surrounded by the warm, familiar glow of the Pixie Dust Tree, a sense of wonder envelops you. The air is rich with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves whispers soft secrets as the night deepens. With each fluttering step, you replay the evening’s enchanting moments in your mind, like a cherished melody playing on repeat.

Satoru's laughter, vibrant and light, echoes in your ears, mingling with the magical stories he shared about the Winter Woods. You can still picture the way his cerulean eyes sparkled as he spoke, the warmth in his voice bringing the cold, frosted landscape to life in your imagination. The thought of snow owls gliding through moonlit skies and winter fairies sculpting ice into delicate art makes your heart flutter with excitement.

You can’t help but smile as you recall the way he looked at you, his expression a mix of curiosity and delight, as if he found joy in sharing his world with you. His passion for the winter realm resonated within you, awakening a longing to experience the beauty he described firsthand.

As you pass under the shimmering lights that adorn your beloved tree, you feel a warm glow within, fueled by the promise of your next encounter. Each step feels lighter, the cool night air filled with the thrill of anticipation. You can hardly wait for the sun to set again, for the moment when you’ll return to that magical border where your two worlds meet.

Your heart races at the thought of venturing back to the edge of the Winter Woods, where frost dances on the branches and a sense of wonder awaits. The excitement of meeting Satoru again, of hearing more stories and sharing your own, fills you with a deep sense of hope. Tonight’s memories are not just fleeting moments; they are the beginning of something extraordinary, a connection that transcends the boundaries of your two realms. And as you reach your home, the anticipation of the next sunset wraps around you like a warm embrace, reminding you that magic lies just beyond the horizon, waiting to unfold.

__________________________

As the sun rose high over Pixie Hollow, its warm golden rays filtered through the vibrant leaves of the pixie dust tree. The gentle hum of the warm-season fairies filled the air as they flitted about, tending to their daily tasks. You fluttered among them, your heart still aglow with the memory of last night's encounter with Satoru. His stories about the Winter Woods echoed in your mind, igniting a sense of wonder you hadn’t felt in ages.

“[Name], are you even listening?” came the teasing voice of Shoko Ieri, your dearest friend and the resident healer. Her brow was furrowed, concern etched across her face as she noticed your distracted demeanor.

You shook your head slightly, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand. “Of course, I am! Just… busy thinking about the preparations for my coronation,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been so… smiley today. Are you sure there’s nothing else on your mind? You usually don’t daydream about the coronation this much.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, a bit more nervous than you intended. “It’s just that I want everything to be perfect for the ceremony! You know how important this is for our people.”

She studied you for a moment, her cerulean eyes searching for the truth beneath your words. “Alright, if you say so,” she finally conceded, but you could tell she remained skeptical. “Just remember, if you need to talk about anything, I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

“Of course! You’re the best,” you said, giving her a reassuring smile as you continued to work, helping other fairies polish the decorations for the coronation.

But as the day wore on, you found your thoughts drifting back to the Winter Woods and Satoru’s enchanting stories of snow-covered landscapes and ice sculptures. Every glance at the sunny blooms around you reminded you of the cold touch of winter and the excitement that surged within you at the thought of seeing him again.

While assisting a group of fairies in gathering vibrant flowers for the decorations, your mind wandered further. You pictured Satoru’s playful grin, the way his cerulean eyes sparkled under the moonlight. You couldn’t help but feel a flutter of anticipation in your stomach at the prospect of sneaking away to meet him again. Would he have more stories to share? Would he show you more of his world beyond the border?

“[Name]! Earth to [Name]!” Shoko’s voice broke through your reverie, and you turned to find her chuckling at your absentmindedness. “If you keep daydreaming, you’ll miss your chance to gather the finest petals for your own crown! Come on, focus!”

You nodded, shaking off the thoughts of Satoru for a moment. “Right, right! I’m on it.” You dove back into the task at hand, but the excitement bubbling within you made it nearly impossible to concentrate fully.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, you glanced at Shoko again. “You know,” you said, unable to hold back, “I’m really looking forward to the coronation. It feels like a new beginning.”

She tilted her head, her expression softening. “I can see that. Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay? Change can be exciting, but it can also bring unexpected challenges.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” you assured her, but your mind was already racing ahead to the evening. With every passing moment, the anticipation of meeting Satoru again grew stronger. You could hardly wait for sundown, when you’d steal away to the border once more, the thrill of the unknown calling to you like a siren’s song.

As the shadows grew longer, you felt a pull in your heart—a blend of exhilaration and nervousness. The sun would set soon, and with it, the chance to explore a world that had captured your imagination. You smiled to yourself, ready to embrace whatever magic awaited you on the other side of the border.

________________________

Satoru Gojo stood at the edge of a snowy cliff overlooking the winter woods, the chill of the air nipping at his cheeks, yet his mind was far from the snow-laden branches and shimmering frost. Instead, his thoughts danced around the image of a warm fairy princess he had met the night before, her laughter lingering like music in his ears. Every detail of that enchanting encounter replayed in his mind—the way her yellow gown fluttered in the evening breeze, how her eyes sparkled with curiosity and warmth, and the genuine excitement that radiated from her as she spoke. It was a stark contrast to the icy realm he ruled.

He was so lost in this reverie that he barely noticed Suguru Geto, his closest friend and fellow winter fairy, standing beside him, arms crossed and brow raised in a mixture of amusement and concern. “Satoru,” Suguru called, breaking through the fog of his daydream. “You’ve been staring off into the distance for a solid minute. Are you plotting a new way to freeze the entire forest again, or is your mind somewhere else entirely?”

Startled back to reality, Satoru shook his head, a sheepish grin creeping across his face. “What? Me? I’m just… appreciating the view.”

“Right,” Suguru replied, skepticism dripping from his voice. “And I suppose that’s why you’ve barely lifted a finger to help the others with the ice sculptures today? I’ve seen glaciers move faster than you.”

Satoru waved a dismissive hand, though he couldn’t suppress the smile that crept onto his lips. “I’m fine, really! Just… had a long night.”

“Long night, huh?” Suguru arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Is that what you’re calling it these days? Because it looks more like you’ve been hit by a heatwave.”

With a playful roll of his eyes, Satoru turned back to the tasks at hand, joining the other winter fairies who were busy crafting intricate ice sculptures from the frozen streams. Yet, even as he helped shape the sparkling ice, his thoughts kept drifting back to her—the warm fairy princess whose name he had only just begun to learn.

Suguru, ever perceptive, caught on to his distraction again. With a swift and playful smack to the back of Satoru’s head, he brought him back to the present. “Hey! Focus!”

“Ow! What was that for?” Satoru whined, rubbing the back of his head and shooting a glare at Suguru, though the grin on his face betrayed his annoyance.

“What’s up with you today?” Suguru asked, his tone light but probing. “You’re like a snowflake caught in the wind, going everywhere but where you need to be. Spill it, Gojo.”

With a reluctant chuckle, Satoru decided to give in. “Fine, fine. You caught me. I met someone last night.”

“Someone? Do tell!” Suguru leaned in, curiosity lighting up his eyes.

Satoru’s heart quickened as he recalled every detail about the princess. “She’s a warm fairy—a princess, actually. Her name is [Name]. She’s… incredible. So bright and full of life, like the sun itself. We talked for hours, and she’s just… so different from anyone I’ve ever met.”

Suguru’s expression shifted from intrigue to concern. “Wait, you know how dangerous it is to linger near the border, Satoru. Crossing into the warmth? That could be trouble. What if something happened to you?”

“I know, I know,” Satoru replied, brushing aside the warnings. “But it was so easy to talk to her. She’s genuinely curious about our world. You should have seen her eyes light up when I talked about the snow owls and how we preserve life in the Winter Woods. And she has such fascinating stories about her home—how the flowers bloom all year round and butterflies flutter in a riot of colors. Can you imagine that? She described the vibrant colors of autumn that paint the trees in shades of amber and gold, and I felt as though I could almost see it myself.”

Suguru sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “Just be careful. I can see how happy you are, but you know the rules for a reason. The warmth can be alluring, but it can also lead to danger.”

Satoru nodded, though a part of him wanted to push the worries away. “I promise I’ll be careful. But there’s something about her… something that draws me in. It feels right.”

Suguru studied him for a moment, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Satoru. You’re my best friend, and seeing you happy is important to me. Just remember that the warmth has its own dangers, even if it feels like magic.”

“I will, I will,” Satoru assured him, a newfound resolve building within him. “But I’m excited to see her again. We’re meeting at sunset tonight. I can’t wait to share more about my world with her.”

“Just don’t get too carried away, alright?” Suguru replied, his tone lightening. “We need you here to keep the ice sculptures from melting.”

With a grin, Satoru replied, “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in time to freeze the lake, just for you.”

As they continued their duties, Satoru felt a sense of anticipation swelling within him. Perhaps there was something more to explore, a connection waiting just beyond the border that would open doors he had never thought possible. And as he shared laughter with Suguru, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of a new adventure—one that might just thaw the icy boundaries between their worlds.

____________________

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and purple, Satoru Gojo felt a flutter of excitement within him. The vibrant colors seemed to echo his anticipation as he took to the sky, his crystalline wings catching the last rays of light. The cool air rushed past him, invigorating and alive, as he soared towards the border—the sacred line where winter met warmth, his heart racing with eagerness.

As he flew, Satoru admired the beauty of the Winter Woods below. The snow-laden trees sparkled like diamonds under the fading sunlight, and he could see the wisps of icy fog curling up from the ground. This was his realm, the world of frost and quiet, but it felt incomplete without the warmth of the spring fairy he had met just the night before.

Reaching the edge of the border, he settled down on the log at their special meeting spot, his heart full of hope. He leaned back against the cool, smooth bark, feeling a familiar sense of peace wash over him. The divide between their worlds was palpable; on one side, the serene white landscape of winter, and on the other, the warm hues of autumn and the vibrant energy that always seemed to accompany [Name].

As he waited, he allowed his thoughts to drift, reminiscing about her laughter, her bright smile, and the way her wings shimmered like sunlight on water. The image of her—full of life and curiosity—was imprinted in his mind, stirring feelings he hadn’t expected to experience.

Just then, a familiar glimmer caught his eye, and his heart leapt. Emerging from the foliage, [Name] appeared, her wings flapping gently as she glided gracefully toward him. Her gown—a soft yellow that seemed to capture the very essence of sunlight—flowed elegantly around her, and as she drew closer, Satoru’s breath caught in his throat. The way her long brown hair danced in the wind and how her eyes sparkled with joy made her look even more enchanting than he remembered.

“You’re here!” she exclaimed, her voice bright and melodious, carrying the warmth of a summer day.

“Of course,” Satoru replied, a wide grin spreading across his face. “We promised, didn’t we?”

As she landed next to him, the world seemed to brighten, the air thick with the palpable energy of their connection. [Name]’s smile illuminated the gathering dusk, and the sight of her brought a warmth to Satoru’s heart that even the coldest winter couldn’t extinguish.

“You’re always punctual, Lord Gojo,” she teased lightly, settling beside him on the log.

“Please, just call me Satoru,” he said, the playful glint in his cerulean eyes matching the light in hers. “I’m not one for titles, especially not when I’m sitting next to such a lovely spring blossom.”

Her cheeks flushed, a soft pink tinting her fair skin. “Alright, Satoru. And you can call me [Name], then,” she replied, her smile widening.

They shared a moment of laughter, the sound mingling with the gentle rustling of the leaves and the whispers of the wind. In that exchange, the boundaries of their worlds felt less imposing, less daunting, as if they were just two friends enjoying a night beneath the stars.

“What did you think about today?” Satoru asked, leaning closer, curiosity shimmering in his gaze. “Did you come prepared with tales of your world?”

[Name] beamed, her eyes lighting up. “I couldn’t wait to tell you more about it. You should see the vibrant fields of flowers in spring, how they stretch for miles. The spring fairies have this beautiful tradition of dancing among them, bringing the blooms to life each day with their laughter.”

“Dancing? That sounds enchanting,” Satoru said, captivated. He imagined the sight vividly, fairies twirling amidst waves of color, laughter ringing through the air. “What about friends? Do you have anyone special you hangout with?”

[Name]’s eyes sparkled with delight as she leaned in closer, eager to share her stories. “Mhmm! There’s Shoko, my best friend. She’s a healer and knows everything there is to know about plants and potions. Her knowledge is incredible! Just the other day, she helped a sick flower bloom again with her remedies. It was a sight to behold!”

Satoru grinned, envisioning the scene. “A healer? Sounds like someone you can always count on when you need help.”

“Oh, for sure!” [Name] nodded enthusiastically. “She’s always there for me, whether it’s helping me prepare for my coronation or simply listening to my thoughts. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” A soft smile touched her lips, warmth evident in her voice as she spoke about her friend.

“What about you?” she asked, turning the conversation toward him. “What about your friends in the Winter Woods?”

Satoru chuckled lightly, scratching the back of his head in thought. “Well, I have Suguru, my longest friend. He’s the serious type, always keeping me grounded,” he said, a fond smile creeping onto his face. “He’s the only one who can smack me out of my daydreams, believe me. But he’s also fiercely loyal. I can always count on him to have my back, even when I’m being... well, me.”

“Oh?” [Name] raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s it like having a friend who keeps you in line?”

“It’s a little annoying, to be honest,” he admitted, laughing. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. He pushes me to be better, to focus on my responsibilities. Just the other day, we were out gathering supplies for the winter festivities, and I was completely distracted, thinking about—well, you know—everything,” he confessed, a hint of shyness coloring his cheeks.

“What were you thinking about?” [Name] asked, leaning in closer, her curiosity piqued.

“Uh, well… you,” Satoru said, a bit sheepishly. “I mean, I just met you, and you’ve already made such an impression on me. It’s hard not to think about someone so bright and lively. Anyway, Suguru caught me daydreaming and smacked the back of my head to bring me back to reality.”

She burst out laughing, her melodious giggles ringing through the air. “Oh no! That sounds painful! But I get it. You’ve made quite the impression on me too.”

Satoru felt warmth spread through him at her words, an unexpected joy flooding his heart. “You really think so?”

“Definitely! Your stories about the Winter Woods and the snow owls—everything you do to keep your world alive—it’s all amazing!” [Name] exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious. “I love hearing about your life. It’s so different from mine.”

Satoru smiled, his heart swelling with pride. “Well, speaking of stories, there was this one time Suguru and I decided to explore deeper into the woods. We ended up getting caught in a snowstorm!” He chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “I thought we were going to freeze to death! But we built a little snow shelter and waited it out. Suguru kept grumbling about my recklessness while I just sat there, enjoying the snowflakes.”

“Did you have fun despite the storm?” [Name] asked, her eyes wide with intrigue.

“Surprisingly, yes! Watching the snow fall around us was like being in a dream. Plus, the snowball fights we had afterward were legendary! Suguru never stood a chance against my expert aim.” He winked, his confidence shining through.

“You’re quite the adventurer, aren’t you?” she teased, her voice light. “I can’t imagine what a snowball fight looks like with winter fairies. It must be epic!”

“Only the best!” he said proudly. “But it’s nothing compared to your dancing among the flowers. I’d love to see that one day. I bet it’s a sight to behold.”

The moon began to rise, casting a silvery glow around them, but neither of them noticed the time slipping away as they lost themselves in their shared tales, eagerly looking forward to the next chapter of their friendship.

As the days turned into weeks, the sun and moon danced across the sky, marking the passage of time in Pixie Hollow and the Winter Woods. Each evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the horizon with hues of amber and lavender, [Name] and Satoru found themselves drawn to the border once more. The log bridge, once just a crossing point between two worlds, transformed into a sacred space where their connection deepened with each meeting.

Satoru cherished the moments spent beside [Name], his heart fluttering at the sight of her as she flitted gracefully through the air, her wings sparkling like sunlight on water. He’d wait at their spot, excitement bubbling within him, anticipation igniting his spirit. And as she appeared, her radiant smile would light up the night, washing away the chill that lingered in the air.

They talked about everything and nothing, sharing their hopes, dreams, and secrets under the vast tapestry of stars. [Name] would tell Satoru about the vibrant flowers in her land, painting vivid pictures of sprawling meadows filled with blossoms that danced with the breeze. Satoru listened intently, his heart swelling with admiration, fascinated by how deeply she cared for her world and those in it.

Conversely, [Name] found herself enchanted by Satoru’s tales of winter. He painted a portrait of a world blanketed in white, where icicles hung like chandeliers from branches, and the air was filled with the soft hooting of snow owls. She could almost feel the cold air brushing against her cheeks as he spoke, the magic of his words transporting her to his frozen realm.

But it wasn’t just the stories that captivated them; it was the connection that bloomed between them—a bond forged in laughter, curiosity, and unspoken understanding. The more they met, the more they revealed their true selves. Satoru admired [Name]’s strength and determination, her ability to remain steadfast even when faced with the burdens of her responsibilities as a princess. He saw how fiercely she cared for her people, her laughter a breath of fresh air that brightened the somber winter nights.

In return, [Name] admired Satoru’s playful spirit and unwavering confidence. He had a way of making the world feel lighter, as if the burdens they both carried could be shared through their friendship. She found herself looking forward to his laughter, the warmth of his presence enveloping her like a comforting blanket. He had a knack for turning mundane moments into magical ones, filling her nights with joy and excitement.

As time wove its intricate tapestry, they began to notice subtle changes within themselves. The laughter shared transformed into something deeper, a current of unspoken feelings flowing between them. Satoru would find himself stealing glances at [Name], his heart racing whenever their eyes met. The way her laughter echoed in the night air resonated within him, a melody he could never forget.

Meanwhile, [Name] felt a flutter in her chest that she couldn’t quite explain. It was more than friendship; it was a warmth that spread through her, igniting a longing to be closer, to know Satoru in ways that transcended mere conversation. She found herself daydreaming about their next meeting, her heart racing at the thought of sharing yet another night beneath the stars.

One evening, as they sat together at the border, the air thick with anticipation, Satoru brushed a stray lock of hair from [Name]’s face, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through her, her breath catching in her throat. She looked up, her heart pounding as she met his gaze. The moment stretched between them, a fragile silence filled with unspoken words, each one swirling with possibility.

“I…” Satoru began, his voice soft but earnest. But before he could finish, the moment was interrupted by the sudden sound of a distant hoot, pulling them back to reality. They exchanged shy smiles, but both knew that the atmosphere had shifted. Something had changed between them, and they could no longer ignore the feelings brewing just beneath the surface.

As the nights continued to unfold, they began to embrace these feelings, dancing around the truth like fireflies in the summer dusk. [Name] would catch herself stealing glances at Satoru, her heart racing as he animatedly recounted tales of winter adventures, the way his blue eyes sparkled with passion making her stomach flutter. Satoru, too, would often find himself lost in thought, imagining what it would be like to hold her hand, to feel her warmth against him, to share not just their worlds but their hearts.

Each night they spent together was a delicate dance of friendship and burgeoning affection. They would talk about their dreams, their fears, and their futures, always staying just shy of crossing that invisible line. They were bound by the knowledge of the dangers that lurked beyond their worlds—the whispers of disapproval from their respective realms, the looming responsibilities that awaited them. Yet, in those moments by the border, they carved out a sanctuary where the outside world faded away.

Then came a night when the stars shone brighter than ever, their light reflecting off the snow, creating a breathtakingly beautiful scene. [Name] watched in awe, her eyes wide with wonder, as Satoru caught a snowflake on his outstretched palm. “See?” he grinned, turning to her. “Winter is magical, isn’t it?”

“It truly is,” she agreed, her heart swelling with admiration for him. The snowflakes twinkled in the moonlight, casting a soft glow around them. It was as if the universe itself conspired to create a perfect moment for them.

As they continued to sit side by side, the air was thick with unvoiced emotions. [Name] turned to Satoru, her heart pounding in her chest, and the words that had been dancing on the tip of her tongue finally tumbled forth. “Satoru, I—”

But he interrupted, his voice gentle and sincere. “I know, [Name]. I feel it too.” His blue eyes searched hers, holding a depth of understanding that made her breath hitch. “It’s more than just friendship, isn’t it?”

Her heart raced as she nodded, feeling the weight of their shared emotions settle between them. The air crackled with energy, the world around them fading as they leaned closer, caught in the magnetic pull of one another. In that moment, they both realized that what they felt was undeniable—a beautiful intertwining of two hearts longing to bridge the gap between their worlds.

Yet, as they sat there, a hush enveloping them, uncertainty crept in. The awareness of their different worlds lingered like a shadow. They hesitated, caught in the delicate balance of newfound feelings and the unspoken fears that held them back. Satoru could see the conflict in [Name]’s eyes, a flicker of longing mingling with doubt.

“Maybe we should take it slow,” he suggested, a hint of reluctance in his voice, as if to protect the fragile bond they had forged. “There’s so much we don’t know about each other, and our worlds are... complicated.”

“Yeah,” [Name] agreed softly, her heart sinking a little. “It’s just… I never expected to feel this way about you.” The words hung in the air between them, a mixture of hope and apprehension.

“Me neither,” Satoru confessed, his gaze lingering on her, a mixture of admiration and longing dancing in his eyes. “But I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“Me neither,” she echoed, a smile breaking through the uncertainty. “Let’s just enjoy this, then. Whatever ‘this’ is.”

As they sat together, enveloped in the magical night, they made a silent pact to cherish their friendship and the growing connection between them, even if they weren’t ready to act on it just yet. They would continue to meet at the border, sharing their lives, dreams, and stories—building a foundation for something more, one precious moment at a time.

________________

The sun filtered through the leaves of Pixie Hollow, casting dappled shadows across the ground as [Name] flitted about, her wings shimmering with a newfound vibrancy. Each day had felt like a page from a dream since she had met Satoru. She couldn't help but smile as she recalled their enchanting conversations under the stars, the warmth of his presence that contrasted so beautifully with the chill of his realm. It was a feeling she had never experienced before, a heady mixture of excitement and longing that painted her world in shades of wonder.

However, her exuberance hadn’t gone unnoticed. Shoko had observed the subtle changes in [Name]’s demeanor. Shoko was wise beyond her years, possessing a keen intuition that often led her to the heart of matters before they fully revealed themselves. With each passing day, she saw [Name]’s smiles grow brighter, her laughter more effervescent, as if a hidden light had ignited within her. But it was not just the smiles that raised Shoko’s concern; it was the way [Name] often drifted off into daydreams, her gaze distant, as if she were peering through the veil that separated their worlds.

One afternoon, as they settled on a mossy patch beneath an ancient oak, Shoko’s curiosity could no longer be contained. “You seem… different lately,” she remarked, tilting her head slightly, her golden hair cascading over her shoulder. “I mean it in the best way possible, but you’ve been smiling a lot more. Almost like you’re in love.”

Caught off guard, [Name] felt her cheeks heat up at the mention of love, her heart skipping a beat. She had never been one to hide her emotions, but the connection she shared with Satoru felt so profound, so delicate, that she had hesitated to speak of it. Still, Shoko’s gentle probing coaxed the truth from her.

“I—well, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” [Name] finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. As she looked into Shoko’s eyes, she saw a mixture of anticipation and concern reflected back at her. It encouraged her to continue. “I met someone. At the border, on a night when the moon was full and bright.”

The words spilled out, a torrent of excitement and trepidation. [Name] recounted the night of their first meeting, describing Satoru’s striking white hair, the way his blue eyes glimmered with mischief and warmth. She spoke of their shared stories, the enchanting evenings spent under the starlit sky, where laughter rang like chimes in the breeze. The memories flowed easily, and with each detail shared, she felt the weight of her secret lift. She spoke of their meetings, how they had become a cherished part of her existence, like the changing seasons that brought new life to her world.

But as she continued, she could see the shift in Shoko’s expression. The initial glimmer of excitement in her eyes began to fade, replaced by concern that etched deeper lines into her brow. Shoko listened intently, her posture tense as she absorbed the words spilling from [Name]’s heart. When [Name] finally finished her tale, there was a heavy silence that settled between them, the soft rustle of leaves filling the air.

“You know this isn’t just some innocent romance, right?” Shoko finally spoke, her voice firm but gentle. “You’re aware of the dangers, [Name]? Winter fairies dwell in their realm for a reason. The temperature change—”

“I know, I know,” [Name] interjected, a hint of impatience creeping into her tone. She had been grappling with the reality of their situation, the inherent risks that loomed like shadows over their growing bond. “But Satoru is… he’s incredible, Shoko. He makes me feel alive in a way I’ve never felt before. We understand each other, and I can’t just walk away from that.”

Shoko sighed, her expression softening as she took [Name]’s hands in hers, their fingers intertwined. “I see how happy you are, and I want that for you. But love is complicated, especially when it involves crossing the borders of our worlds. What if something happens? What if he gets too close and you’re unable to survive the cold?”

[Name] could feel her heart sink at the thought. She had been so wrapped up in the magic of their connection that she hadn’t fully considered the consequences of their actions. But every time she thought of Satoru, the warmth he brought into her life, her resolve strengthened. “But what if I miss out on something extraordinary? I’ve always dreamed of knowing more than just Pixie Hollow. Satoru gives me that chance.”

Shoko remained quiet, her gaze searching [Name]’s face, as if weighing the sincerity of her words. Finally, she spoke, her tone softening. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you hurt. You have a beautiful heart, and it deserves to be protected.”

“I promise to be careful,” [Name] assured her, squeezing Shoko’s hands tightly. “But I also need you to trust me. I can handle this. I know it’s risky, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Shoko nodded, albeit reluctantly, the weight of her concern still heavy on her shoulders. “I trust you, [Name]. Just… promise me you’ll keep an open mind about what’s best for you. And remember, I’m here for you, no matter what happens.”

As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow across the landscape, [Name] felt a wave of relief wash over her. The burden of secrecy had been lifted, and she was grateful for Shoko’s understanding, even if it came with a hint of worry. They remained seated in comfortable silence for a while, the bond of their friendship reaffirmed, but [Name] couldn’t shake the feeling that the path ahead would be anything but simple.

And as she thought of Satoru, a blend of excitement and apprehension churned within her. She was ready to embrace the unknown, but she also knew the challenges that lay ahead. With a heart full of hope and a resolve to navigate whatever came her way, [Name] prepared to face the future, one magical night at a time.

___________________________

The moon hung like a glowing pearl in the velvety sky, casting a serene light over the border that separated the warm realm from the cold Winter Woods. The air was thick with anticipation, charged with an energy that neither [Name] nor Satoru could ignore any longer. They sat side by side at their familiar spot, where the glimmering fairy dust intertwined with the soft snow, both acutely aware of the feelings simmering just beneath the surface.

For weeks, they had exchanged stories and laughter, their bond growing stronger with each stolen moment. Yet tonight felt different; a powerful urge lingered in the space between them, an unspoken acknowledgment of what they both yearned for but had hesitated to voice. Satoru’s heart raced as he glanced at [Name], her warm presence igniting a fire within him. The way her eyes sparkled under the moonlight drew him in, making it increasingly difficult to resist the pull between them.

“I wish I could show you my world,” she began, her voice soft but filled with passion. “The colors of the flowers in bloom, the gentle rustle of leaves… it’s all so magical.” The longing in her voice stirred something deep within him, a wish to experience all the warmth and vibrancy she spoke of. But as the words left her lips, he felt the weight of their situation—a chasm between their worlds that felt insurmountable.

“Satoru, what if…” [Name] hesitated, her brow furrowing as she met his gaze, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “What if it’s too dangerous for you to come to my side? The warmth—”

He leaned closer, his expression earnest. “I want to be with you, [Name]. No matter the risk.” His determination resonated in the air, making her pulse quicken. Yet, she could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, the fear of the unknown that lingered beneath his bravado.

“I can’t let you get hurt,” she replied, concern lacing her tone. “You don’t know what the warmth can do to you.”

But Satoru was resolute. The thought of being apart from her any longer felt unbearable. “I would rather feel the warmth and risk it all than stay on my side, longing for you. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

The moment hung between them, charged with possibility. He knew the risks, yet the prospect of crossing that boundary felt monumental. After what felt like an eternity of searching each other’s eyes, Satoru took a deep breath and stepped forward, standing at the edge of the border where winter met warmth.

“Let me show you what it’s like to be here with me.” The sincerity in his voice softened the tension between them. He glanced back at her, excitement mingling with a hint of nervousness.

After a moment of hesitation, [Name] finally nodded, her heart swelling with a mixture of hope and concern. “Okay, but promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise,” he assured her, determination igniting within him.

With a final glance to solidify his resolve, Satoru took that crucial step across the line. The moment he crossed into her world, a wave of warmth enveloped him, a rush of sensations unlike anything he had ever experienced. It felt as though the sun itself had wrapped him in its embrace, igniting every nerve ending in his body. His wings tingled with an electrifying sensation, as if they were awakening to a reality he had longed to know.

He glanced around in disbelief, soaking in the vibrant colors surrounding him. The autumn leaves danced playfully in the breeze, the air fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers. It was a stark contrast to the snowy landscape of Winter Woods he had always known.

“We’re… together,” he whispered, awe washing over him as he turned to face [Name]. Her eyes sparkled with joy and relief, a mirror to his own emotions. The thrill of finally being in the same world, of closing the distance that had kept them apart for so long, was intoxicating.

As they stood there, heartbeats quickening in unison, an electric tension filled the space between them. They hesitated, caught in the moment of realization that they had crossed not just the physical boundary but an emotional one as well.

With an instinctive pull, they surged into each other’s arms, holding on tightly as if afraid to let go. Satoru lifted her off the ground, twirling her under the moonlight, laughter bubbling up as they reveled in the sheer joy of being together.

The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and magic. When he finally set her down, they remained close, unwilling to break the contact that felt so right. Their eyes sparkled with happiness, love filling the space that had once felt impossibly vast.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” [Name] breathed, her heart soaring as she gazed up at him. “I want to show you everything! The gardens, the streams, the sunset over the valley… there’s so much to see!” Her excitement bubbled over, each word laced with the enthusiasm of sharing her world.

Satoru’s heart swelled with warmth, a smile breaking across his face as he envisioned all the moments they could share together. “I want to see it all with you,” he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. The thrill of the adventure ahead made his heart race faster.

In that moment, everything felt possible. They stood in each other’s space, their breaths mingling in the cool night air, both knowing this was a turning point—a moment that would define the beginning of a new chapter in their lives. As they shared smiles filled with love and longing, the world around them felt vibrant, alive, and filled with endless potential.

As Satoru stood, enveloped in the warmth of [Name]'s world, an exhilarating thrill coursed through him—until, quite suddenly, he felt a peculiar heat begin to radiate from the tips of his wings. It started as a gentle tingle, but it quickly intensified, spreading through the delicate, shimmering membranes like wildfire. A shocked yelp escaped his lips, and he fell to his knees, his heart racing with alarm.

The pleasant warmth that had enveloped him moments before morphed into something alarming, an unsettling sensation that made his skin prickle. He could feel the sweat pooling on his brow as he struggled to understand what was happening. Panic surged within him as he looked down, horrified to see that the edges of his wings were beginning to melt, the ethereal strands dissolving into a shimmering mist that drifted away like fireflies in the night.

“[Name]!” he gasped, his voice strained, a mixture of fear and confusion coloring his tone. He could feel the heat intensifying, and his heart raced with panic. “Something’s wrong!”

At the sound of his distress, [Name] knelt before him, her eyes wide with concern. “Satoru! What’s happening?” she cried, panic rising in her chest as she studied him closely. The realization hit her like a blow: his wings were melting away, and with it, a part of his very being. “We need to get you back to the winter side!”

She reached out, her hands trembling as she grasped his shoulders, willing him to rise. “Come on, we have to hurry!”

Satoru could only nod, his breath coming in shallow gasps as the heat threatened to overwhelm him. “I… I don’t know if I can,” he panted, every fiber of his being screaming for the cold, for the solace of the winter woods. But despite his fear, a part of him was terrified to move away from her warmth.

“Please!” [Name] urged, her voice laced with urgency. She could see the fear in his eyes, the realization dawning that he was losing a part of himself. “You need to get to the cold! I’ll help you!”

With her support, he staggered to his feet, and together they hurried toward the border. Each step felt agonizingly slow as the heat continued to spread, pulling him down with an invisible weight. The world around them began to blur, the vibrant colors of autumn fading into a muted haze as he focused on [Name] and the urgency of their situation.

Finally, they reached the border, the cool air of Winter Woods brushing against his skin like a balm, but it was too late. The moment he crossed back into his world, Satoru felt a sharp pain jolt through him—a raw, wrenching sensation that echoed through his body.

He gasped, looking back over his shoulder just in time to see a fragment of one of his wings break off, fluttering down to the ground like a fallen leaf. It shimmered for a brief moment before settling into the snow, a stark reminder of the price he had just paid.

“No… no, no,” he whispered, disbelief and horror flooding his senses. “This can’t be happening.”

From her kneeling position beside him, [Name] felt a deep, crushing weight settle in her chest as she watched the severed piece of Satoru’s wing fall away. The realization hit her like a tidal wave—she had urged him to cross, had pushed him into this dangerous situation, and now he was paying the price. Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and painful, as guilt gnawed at her heart.

“What have I done?” she thought, the weight of her emotions crashing down around her like a storm. The reality of their actions felt suffocating, a burden she never wanted to bear. How could she have let this happen? He was brave, so brave for stepping across that boundary, but it was her warmth that had drawn him in, that had made him disregard the danger. She had encouraged him, ignited his desire to explore her world, but it felt as if she had set fire to the very wings he had always known.

“[Name]…” Satoru’s voice broke through her thoughts, gentle yet filled with a profound understanding. He turned to her, eyes softening despite the pain etched on his face. “It’s not your fault,” he reassured her, reading the guilt and sorrow that clouded her thoughts as if they were written across her heart. “I wanted to cross. You didn’t force me. I insisted on it.”

But the weight of his words did little to lift the heaviness in her heart. “I should have known better,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “You could have been hurt—”

“And yet here we are,” he interjected softly, his expression unwavering. “I wouldn’t change a thing if it meant being here with you.”

The sincerity in his gaze melted a portion of her guilt, yet the image of his broken wing lingered in her mind, a haunting reminder of the danger they had danced around for so long. “But your wing—what does this mean for you?” she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes as she grasped his hands.

“It’s just a part of who I am,” he replied, a faint smile touching his lips despite the circumstances. “I’m still here. I’m still me.”

The determination in his voice resonated deeply within her, but it was overshadowed by the fear that laced her heart. She couldn’t shake the worry that he would always carry a piece of her decision with him—a reminder of the moment they had crossed a line neither of them could truly understand.

Tears continued to cascade down [Name]'s cheeks, each droplet a testament to the turmoil swirling within her. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Satoru’s broken wing, the sight sending fresh waves of despair crashing over her. This was really bad. The realization hit her with the force of a winter storm: his life would be irrevocably changed. No longer would he soar gracefully through the air, wings outstretched beneath the pale moonlight. The thought of Satoru never flying again felt like a dagger to her heart.

The soft glow of the moon illuminated the delicate edges of his wings, now marred by the injury, and the warmth of the night suddenly felt suffocating. She could sense Satoru’s gaze on her, desperately trying to catch her eye, but she was too afraid to meet his stare. She turned away, her heart heavy with the weight of her emotions. The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken fears and regrets, as she struggled to process the gravity of their situation.

"Maybe this isn’t a good idea," she finally whispered, her voice quaking with emotion. The words felt foreign, a painful admission that shattered the fragile hope they had built together. "We can’t… we can’t be together like this. Winter fairies and warm fairies should stay apart. It’s too dangerous." She swallowed hard, forcing back the sob that threatened to escape. "Look at what just happened."

Satoru’s heart sank at her words, each syllable striking him like an icy gust of wind. It felt as though the ground beneath him had cracked, opening a chasm that threatened to swallow them both. He wanted to argue, to refute her claims, but the sight of her anguish made his resolve waver. He could see the pain in her eyes, the way she fought to stay strong even as her world felt like it was crumbling around her.

“[Name], please,” he urged, his voice thick with emotion. “We can figure this out. We just need to be careful—”

But she shook her head, her soft hair catching the moonlight as she turned away. "No, Satoru. You don’t understand. This isn’t just about us anymore. This is about your safety, your future.” Her voice cracked, and the sorrow in her tone sent a pang of guilt through him.

In that moment, he felt as if he were losing her all over again. The weight of her words settled heavily in the pit of his stomach, suffocating the flicker of hope he had clung to so fiercely. “But we have something special,” he insisted, the desperation in his voice rising. “I don’t want to give that up.”

“I know,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, but there was a resolute edge to it that made his heart ache. “But look at what just happened to you. Your wings… it’s irreversible. I can’t let you risk any more for me.”

Satoru felt a profound heaviness in his chest, a feeling he had never experienced before. He had always been the brave one, the protector of the Winter Woods, yet here he was, feeling helpless and vulnerable. The urge to argue against her was strong, but he could see how hard she was trying to convince herself of the truth in her own words. He noticed the way she held back, how her body seemed tense, ready to flee from him, from the danger he had so foolishly embraced.

As much as he wanted to fight for them, to push against the boundaries their worlds had set, he couldn’t ignore the pain etched on her face. “If that’s what you truly want,” he murmured, the words slipping from his lips like ash, “then… I’ll agree.”

Her heart raced at his response, a mix of relief and sorrow flooding her senses. She turned back to face him, tears still glistening in her eyes. “You don’t—”

“No,” he interrupted gently, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re right. I see it now. The danger is real, and I never wanted to put you in harm’s way.” Each word felt like a heavy stone, settling into the depths of his heart, and with each passing moment, it became harder to breathe. “I understand why we shouldn’t cross this line anymore.”

The realization weighed heavily upon them both, a somber agreement that bound their hearts with an unbreakable thread. They were standing on opposite sides of a chasm, and for the first time, the reality of their worlds settled heavily upon their shoulders. He could see it in her eyes—the uncertainty, the longing, and the heartbreak that mirrored his own. Their bond, once so vibrant and full of possibilities, felt like a delicate glass figurine, teetering on the brink of shattering.

But beneath that weight of sorrow, a flicker of understanding emerged. They both cared deeply for each other; they both wanted to protect the other. And in that moment of shared grief, Satoru realized that their connection transcended the borders that divided their worlds. Though they were forced to remain apart, the bond they had forged would forever be a part of them, an unbreakable tie that distance could never sever.

“Maybe one day, when the worlds aren’t so harsh…” [Name] began, her voice trailing off, leaving the sentence hanging between them like a fragile promise.

Satoru nodded, the hope in her voice igniting a spark within him. “Yeah, maybe one day. But until then, we’ll find a way to carry each other in our hearts.”

Slowly, [Name] stepped closer, her heart pounding in her chest, unsure of what she was about to do. She looked deep into Satoru’s eyes, searching for something—an assurance, a promise that they would be okay despite the distance that now lay between them. It was then that she felt the pull of something undeniable, a yearning that had grown stronger with every shared moment they had experienced together.

In that instant, she reached up, her hand trembling slightly as she brushed her fingers against his cheek. Satoru felt his breath hitch, his heart racing in response to her touch. There was an intensity in the air, a moment that felt like a breath held in anticipation. It was both a farewell and an acknowledgment of the bond they had created.

And then, she leaned in, closing the distance between them. Her lips met his softly, a gentle brush that sent a jolt of electricity through both their bodies. It was a kiss filled with the weight of unspoken words, a lingering promise of what could have been. Tears streamed silently down [Name]'s cheeks, mingling with the warmth of their shared breath, the saltiness of her sorrow sweetened by the love they both felt.

Satoru closed his eyes, allowing himself to fully embrace the moment. He leaned into the kiss, his heart swelling with a mix of joy and despair. He let a single tear fall, breaking the fragile equilibrium of their emotions. It rolled down his cheek, a tangible representation of the turmoil in his heart. This kiss felt like an eternity, a perfect snapshot in time where the world around them ceased to exist, and nothing else mattered except for the warmth they shared.

When their lips finally parted, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against one another as they tried to gather themselves. Satoru’s heart ached as he searched [Name]’s eyes, hoping to find solace in the depths of her gaze.

“Be careful on your way back,” she whispered, her voice trembling, a bittersweet smile gracing her lips. Her heart felt heavy with the weight of goodbye, but she knew it was necessary.

He nodded, unable to find the words as he watched her begin to pull away, the distance between them growing once more. The quiet sorrow echoed between them, each moment stretching painfully as they stood on the border of their worlds.

With one last glance, [Name] spread her wings wide, the soft luminescence surrounding her illuminating the darkness. She took off, soaring into the night sky, leaving Satoru standing alone at the border, a figure of winter amidst the vibrant hues of the warm lands.

His heart felt heavy as he watched her fly away, each beat echoing the emptiness left behind. The sight of her gradually fading into the distance made him feel as if a part of him was being torn away. He knew they had to be apart, but the ache in his chest told him otherwise. Satoru stood there, his wings drooping slightly, feeling the chill of the winter woods settle around him, grounding him in the stark reality of their situation.

He took a deep breath, letting the night air fill his lungs, trying to quell the longing that surged within him. Though they had shared a moment that would linger in his heart forever, the sorrow of their parting weighed heavily on him. “Goodbye,” he murmured softly to the empty air, his voice barely audible. He knew that he would carry her with him, always, even if they were worlds apart.

From that day forward, a solemn rule was established, known to every fairy—both winter and warm—that crossing the border was strictly forbidden, ensuring that their worlds would forever remain apart.

[gutterfuuck]

“ROI—“

more bff!mark for my baby girls out there, i am watching and lurking when you least expect. the title is based on a song! it is the instrumental for roi. i do not have a specific reason, i just heard it while i was writing and hadn’t a title ready. i saw the phrase “sandbox love never dies” on another work, credit is due there for that!

cw: mdni!, dubcon-ish(? not sure how to describe, haha), smut, mark is pining hard for reader, possibly hint of yandere, this one is kind of long, bff!mark, piv, childhood friends to lovers trope, mark is a little delulu if u squint, virgin!mark (implied), semi-dark content please be aware, reader and mark are in college, reader knows that mark is invincible but that isn’t really important to the story.

mark knew this bedroom all too well. how couldn’t he? you both basically grew up in there together. you were always over at his house, he was always over at yours. inseparable ever since the day he had moved in across from you, sandbox love never dies.

his eyes landed on the fairy lights that were stapled to the wall to keep them in place… he had done that, years ago. he couldn’t bare to see the look of disappointment on your face when you realised that they hadn’t come with a sticky back so you could have them up on your wall. he still remembered the way your eyes lit up when he returned to your home with a stapler in hand, being careful not to staple through the wire. mark’s heart fluttered when he saw your little collection of cereal box figurines; also his doing. he couldn’t believe that you had held onto his gifts for so long, let alone display them proudly as if they were medals. to you, they might as well as be.

“you okay?” you asked, snapping him out of whatever dreamy trance he was in. he snapped his head around back to the tv, the ending credits of the zombie movie rolling on the screen. you had noticed how he had been staring into space for the last half hour of your movie, “me? yeah- i’m good, just thinking about something.” he smiled, quickly rummaging around on the floor to pick up the last of the movie cases, your marathon nearing its end. you were both back in town for the weekend, college kicking you both down and your dorm rooms not homey enough for it to feel right, so you had decided to drop in for a couple of days, killing two birds with one stone and seeing both mark’s parents and yours in one trip. your parents would be coming back later, that’s when the barbecue would come out.

mark switched the disk for the unwatched one, the movie menu popping up shortly after with a blood splatter animation on the title screen, “no don’t play it yet! we gotta refill here.” you spoke, pointing down at the almost empty bowl of chips, save for a few crumbs at the bottom. you had even ran out of cookies, remembering how mark had said that they should stop calling them family size if they were only able to feed two people in the span of an hour or two. you retorted with something about how usually people had self control; you weren’t supposed to scoff down three packs of family value cookies. ever.

“you gonna leave me here, all on my own? out in the open like this? i’m a sitting duck out here.” he joked, a satisfied warmth washing over him as soon as you had laughed. he loved your laugh, always. for as long as he could remember, “like anyone would come attack my house while you’re here, mark.” you rolled your eyes, his heart skipped a beat. he knew how much you relied on him to keep you safe sometimes. already knew that you’d know who to call if you were ever in any danger. he fed on it. you picked up the empty bowls, stacking them inside one another and opening your bedroom door.

“d’you want anything from downstairs?” you asked, holding an empty bottle of pop under your arm, hands preoccupied. mark shook his head, getting up to open your door wider for you, “i think i’ll just stick to eating all of this junk you keep throwing at me.” mark smiled, you smiled. mark’s heart ached.

“don’t you dare press play on that movie, mark grayson!” you yelled from downstairs, just missing the way mark’s cheeks dusted pink at the sound of his name on your tongue. you sounded like an angel. mark’s attention turned to your dresser, the top drawer full of your underwear. how did he know? well, he was the reason for your declining pairs of underwear, the source of the disappearing panties act that you had just brushed off as being forgetful or losing them somehow. he got up, face turning beet red as he stepped towards the drawer, fingers shakily reaching for the handle, slowly, slowly-

“are you going through my stuff?” shit. shit.

you had caught him, after all this time you had caught him. his mind raced for an excuse, his heart threatened to give up on him and he hoped that he would just have a heart attack already, quickly, he had to say something. anything, anything- “i’m kidding! if you’re looking for the remote, you already left it on the bed, silly!”

thank god. thank god.

“right, y-yeah! ha, i must’ve- forgotten..” he laughed nervously, heart still racing in his chest. all he could do was try to steady himself, calm his shaking hands and retreat back to his original seat, on your bed, next to you. he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, couldn’t stop thinking about how he could’ve had you right there if you had actually caught him, couldn’t stop thinking about holding your hands above your head and covering your mouth with his palm, ‘please let me, you don’t understand- just the tip and i’ll be done i swear.. just let me make you take me.’— he was daydreaming again, it was all your fault. he wanted you so badly, so desperately, why couldn’t you see it? why couldn’t you see him?

mark stared blankly at the tv screen with his jaw clenched, looking right through the screen. if he hadn’t had seen this movie dozens of times before with william, he would’ve been missing it. it was as if he was sleeping while sitting up with his eyes open, idle and dormant…

he heard you scream, his body shifting to shield you on instinct, breaking him out of whatever trance he had put himself in. you had thrown your arms over him, eyes squeezed shut. he was ready to fight, but fizzled down when he realised that you had only jumped into his arms for safety because of a jumpscare. a jumpscare. you were pressed up against him, you had almost jumped into his lap. it was like you were doing it on purpose, torturing him just because you could. you clung to him tighter, eyes glued to the screen in fear and anticipation for the next bloody scene…

fuck. he could feel his cock twitching in his jeans, straining against his boxers. leaking, weeping for you, his best friend. he was frozen, his eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip pulled into his mouth with his teeth so hard that he thought he would make himself bleed- bleed for you-because you were clinging onto him like you needed him. he needed you. he couldn’t help it anymore. it was now or never, here or nowhere.

“m’sorry-“ he said quietly and you turned to him, eyes staring up into his. that sent him over the edge. before you could ask him what he was apologising for, you were on your back, mark leaning over your body, a hungriness in his deep brown orbs. you had forgotten how fast he was, his powers completely slipping your mind. that was just it, you never cared. you always stuck with him, even after he had told you about his father’s secret roots all those years ago after he had just found out. he couldn’t wait to tell you, he always knew that you’d still see him the same, believe his words even if he lied-

“y/n, please- just let me talk, please just hear me out..!” he sounded different, shaky, almost scared to speak to you as if you were the one with superpowers holding him down. you weren’t scared, of course you weren’t. you looked into his eyes, concern washing over you as you watched your best friend open and close his mouth again, trying to find his words, “i.. i don’t- look, i…” more silence followed, tears brimmed in the corners of mark’s eyes and landed on your face, his gaze refusing to meet yours once again. you wanted to wipe his eyes, get to the bottom of why he was so upset… oh. oh. that was it, huh?

“mark-“ you interrupted, propping yourself up on your elbows to get closer to his face, closer so you could wipe his eyes-

mark panicked, he wasn’t ready for your rejection. wasn’t ready to hear you tell him that you had a boyfriend or that you couldn’t, didn’t want to hear you tell him that he was just like a brother to you, you couldn’t like him back because you were only best friends. he leaned forward, hands on your cheeks, lips crashing against your own. “mmf-!” you tried to move, his grip only tightening the more you tried to pull away, your hands on his wrists tightly. so this was how it was going to have to go, right? he’d dreamed of this for so long, it was so perfect. you were perfect.

“mark-!” you finally yelled, pushing him away by his shoulders. he could feel a dark pit starting to form inside of his stomach, regret washing over him, wishing that the pit would open up enough to swallow him too… “let me just breathe for a second..!” you huffed, locking eyes with him. your eyes never left his, mark’s eyes would try to flicker away from yours.

to him, it was a miracle. to you, it was a confession. it was years and years of bottled up feelings drowning you both all at once, it was confirmation.

you didn’t hesitate, hands snaking into his hair and pulling him back into a sweet kiss, your legs wrapping around his waist as he gasped shakily, a sweet nervousness behind his reciprocation. fireworks shot off in his brain, opening his mouth slowly only to be met with the intrusion of your tongue first, licking up against his as you held him tighter, pulling him closer, devouring him whole. god, you were going to kill him. are you going to kill him? give him a heart attack right here, right now? he thought so, hands aimlessly wondering under your shirt with his hips bucking into you with a groan rumbling from his throat, you whining back when his thumbs brushed against your nipples, your hips rocking against his. “w-wan’ you so b-bad-“ he spoke in between kisses, desperately trying to shove his tongue back down your throat straight after. you moved your hands to the hem of your skirt, shuffling out of it and kicking it off the end of your foot and onto the floor. this was hot, hungry. your hands pulled at his sweater, attempting to pull it over his head. he paused, sad to leave your lips once more, to take off his sweater and discard it into a random corner. “y/n, wanna- can i.. please- just the t-tip, only wanna feel it..- please let me, i’ll be quick, p-promise-“ you shut him up with a deep kiss, arms wrapped around his neck, “..i want all of it, mark. i can take you.” and mark almost cums in his jeans right there, nodding lazily and sliding his hand between your bodies to fiddle with the button and fly of his jeans, mentally congratulating himself for not just messily tugging them past his hips. he wasn’t alone with your panties jerking off next to you in your bed while you slept anymore- no- he had time. he could take it slow.

you couldn’t help but moan when you caught sight of his cock, heavy and thick and leaking between his legs, aching for you. who would’ve guessed? your best friend was packing. mark rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him so you were straddling his waist, hands pressed on chest. to him, all you had ever done was look down on him, even if you had never intended so. for once, you really were looking down on him, but he was in control. he wanted to be in control, he should have been in control. and with that, the position shifted once more.

mark’s thumbs separated your gooey folds after pulling your panties to the side, he recognised that pair, he had planned on taking them one night. a pair of red lace panties, simple but permanent in his brain. he knew your cunt all too well, the nights where you would need help to stumble back to your dorm drunk when he would tower over your clothed body, flipping up your dress and lick your cunt until he busted against your bedsheets, he could always dismiss it as a yoghurt stain or something if you had ever asked.

mark grabbed you by the thighs, pulling you closer so your cunt was in perfect line of his fat dick, swiping the head up your slit and shivering when you moaned quietly because of the contact to your clit. this was so surreal, he was living in a dream and he never wanted to wake up. you both hissed when he caught his tip on your hole, eyes meeting once more before he let himself go, hands gripping your hips as he pressed into his your warm, wet pussy. you were going to take all of him. “fuuck..! mnh-“ you almost screamed, trying to adjust to his length. mark didn’t care. neither did you. his cock bullied its way into your tight walls, mark whispered small apologies into your ear as you whined at him, slowly gyrating your hips to try and almost run from the stretch, to give yourself a minute to adjust again, “don’t do that- you don’t have to do anything-“ he started, his warm breath fanning over your neck which caused goosebumps on your skin, “you don’t have to do anything other than lay here.. stay still n’ take my cock.” his words made you tremble, you tried to protest, his mouth blocking your words with a kiss, his dick pressing right up against your cervix with a harsh thrust of his hips, gummy gooey walls clenching down on him, a low “ohhh, ohh f-fu..ck-!” rumbling against your lips.

one thrust and he was immediately pussydrunk, your mouth hanging open and tongue poking out when he drew his hips back, slamming them back into you with uneven, inexperienced movements. he fucked like a rabid dog, his nails digging into your skin as he babbled above you,

“d-do you feel full? can’t push any deeper..” followed by a pressure on your stomach, his hand pressing down so he could feel himself thrusting through your body,

“ghnn..- y/n you feel so much b-better than my fleshlight-!” did he even know what he was saying? your walls tightened around him, the wind being knocked out of your lungs again when he pressed harder, lips working against yours, his vision blanking and ears ringing when you didn’t stop tightening and loosening on him, mushy cunt trying to milk him dry.

you couldn’t do anything but moan breathlessly, pushing the hair falling into his face back, his jaw clenched and forehead sweaty, pressing his head against yours. this was it, this was everything his life had been building up to until now. he thought that maybe he had subconsciously made you fall for him, all of the times he had touched you secretly conditioning your brain. he doubted it, but the idea of him and him only reworking your mind to love him made him keen. “yeah, tha’s right.. take it, c’monnn..” he babbled, his eyelashes wet with tears, not knowing or caring whether they were happy tears or the result of his pleasure. you were right on the edge, your moans getting louder and shorter, scrambling to let mark, your best friend, know that you were going to spray all over his pelvis. you’d squirted before but this felt.. different. warmer, hotter. “c-c-!..” you struggled, eyes crossing and back bowing off of the bed, “fffuck-! ghfuckk yeah..- y-you’re cummin-“ he held your hand, hips stuttering when he felt your tight pussy starting to flutter, the tight coil in your stomach finally snapping;

warmth flooded your insides, legs twitching when you gushed all over yourself and mark. if you weren’t planning on changing your sheets after this, you definitely had to now. white ropes were out of mark’s cockhead riiiight against your cervix, breeding your cunt as if he had no control over himself, which he didn’t. you both panted, trying to balance your breathing. you felt his hips pull back, cock pulling out and opening the floodgates for thick globs of cum to pour out of you, your best friend rolling onto his back and covering his eyes with his forearm, mouth open as he breathed. he was in a daze, completely out of it, both of your liquids stuck to mark’s flaccid dick.

“did you get it out of your system yet?” your voice always bought him back. it was always you, it had always been you. “i… really want to be with you. i wanted- i want you, y/n.” mark spoke sternly, finally being able to complete his sentence from earlier. “i think i could gather that.” you retorted with a laugh. your laugh, his favourite.

you locked eyes, dark murky brown pools staring directly into yours. his pinkie finger hooked around yours, laughter bubbling from both of you. the fairy lights shined in his peripheral vision. the movie’s credits rolled on the screen, the whole movie falling on deaf, horny ears.

it was quiet, the only sounds being of yours and mark’s breathing. this was nice, blissful. peaceful.

“i love you, mark grayson.”

[maybe-im-dark]

Nocturnal

Wade burst through the door of their shared apartment, his usual swagger in full swing as he tossed his gear onto the floor. It had been a long day—bullets, blood, and chimichangas—but now, all he wanted was to kick back, harass Logan a bit, and maybe catch some terrible late-night TV with Blind Al. He flicked on the lights, ready to call out, but the words died in his throat the moment his gaze landed on Logan.

Logan was sitting on the couch, completely still, and for a brief second, Wade saw it—Logan's eyes flashed bright yellow, like the eyes of a predator caught in the light. Wade stumbled back, genuinely startled for once, heart pounding against his ribs.

"Holy chimichangas! What the fuck was that?!" Wade blurted out, one had instinctively reach for the katanas on his back.

Logan growled low in his throat, the sound almost vibrating in the dim room, and rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “My eyes.”

Wade blinked, taking in the sight of Logan sprawled out on the couch, looking more annoyed than usual. “Have you been sitting here in the dark the whole time? How do you see anything? That’s like, serial killer behavior, dude.”

Logan leaned back against the cushions, unbothered by Wade’s theatrics. “I see just fine. Don’t know why you felt the need to brighten the whole goddamn room.”

Wade paused, narrowing his eyes, studying Logan in the harsh light. “Wait… You’ve got, like, the whole tapetum lucidum thing going on, don’t you?”

Logan’s brow furrowed, the irritation clear in his voice. “The hell are you talking about now?”

Wade waved his hands excitedly, pacing back and forth, the pieces falling into place with every step. “You know, the tapetum lucidum! It’s that reflective layer in the eyes that gives animals night vision! Like cats and wolves and shit. It makes their eyes glow when light hits them. That’s why yours lit up just now. That’s why you’re always lurking around in the dark like Batman on a bad day!”

Logan sighed, rubbing his temples as if Wade’s voice physically pained him. “Yeah, well. Maybe I see better at night. What’s it to you?”

Wade’s face lit up, his excitement bubbling over as he dropped down onto the couch beside Logan, way too close, practically vibrating with energy. “Dude, this is amazing! You’re like… an actual nocturnal predator! That explains so much. No wonder you’re always pacing around at night, growling and glaring at the moon or whatever it is you do when I’m not around. You’re a damn apex predator who can’t sit still when it’s dark out!”

Logan rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smirk tugging at his lips. “You just figuring this out now?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Wade demanded, leaning in closer, eyes wide with fascination. “I mean, this is important roommate information! Like, what if you decided to go full feral one night and chew on my leg or something? Shouldn’t I be warned about these things?”

Logan’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. “Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve had someone chewing on you.”

Wade blinked, and then burst into laughter, loud and unrestrained. “You know what? Fair point, fair point. But seriously, does this mean you, like, prefer to hunt in the moonlight? Are you secretly prowling around rooftops while I’m snoring my ass off?”

Shaking his head, Logan settled back into the couch with a sigh. “I don’t hunt. Not anymore. But yeah, I can see just fine in the dark. And if I’m up late, it’s ’cause my body doesn’t care much for sleep. Comes with the territory.”

Wade’s usual banter fell silent for a moment, his expression softening as he watched Logan. For once, his voice dropped, more genuine than Logan had ever heard him. “You know, Logan, there’s nothing wrong with being what you are.”

Logan glanced over, caught off guard by the sincerity in Wade’s tone. He wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to anyone looking at him like he wasn’t just a weapon, wasn’t just some feral beast waiting to be unleashed. “Maybe,” Logan muttered, looking away, a flicker of vulnerability showing through.

But Wade, being Wade, wasn’t about to let the moment stay heavy for long. His grin returned, wide and unapologetic. “Well, if you ever feel the urge to go hunting, just give me a heads-up. I’ll make sure to stay out of your way. Or… maybe I’ll join you. I’m pretty good at prowling around at night too, you know.”

Logan snorted, shaking his head. “You’d scare off everything within a mile radius, Wade.”

“And yet, here you are,” Wade pointed out with a smirk. “Still haven’t managed to get rid of me.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and genuine, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

They sat there in a comfortable silence, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. Wade, ever the troublemaker, leaned in, whispering with a conspiratorial tone. “Just so you know, if you ever want to glow at me again, I’m totally into it.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but the faint smile stayed, lingering at the corners of his mouth. “Idiot.”

And for once, Logan felt like maybe, just maybe, there was someone who understood—someone who saw the animal in him and wasn’t afraid.