#maybe i’ll draw them again all together :)

[becomingmina]

YOU, YOU SILLY. 2ND PART w/ BANG CHAN & HWANG HYUNJIN

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing: bang chan x female reader x hwang hyunjin genre + warnings: established relationship w chan, smut mdni!, threesome, y/n is brave now, chan and y/n calls e/o slutty, unprotected sex, oral (m & f receiving), cum eating wc: 4.05k i dont know why its so long. lol mina's note: long awaited part 2 to my first smut story ever. now, this is my first 3-some lmao. maybe got a bit carried away. let me know how i go! SORRY I TOOK FOREVER

series chapter ➵ part one

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

“What do you think about it? Them listening to us have sex?” Chan asks, handing you a plate to dry.

This was the fourth time he had asked you ever since the awkward encounter you had with the boys the other day.

You awkwardly giggled it off after piecing the details together; Hyunjin was flustered and hard after “accidentally” hearing you and Chan in the bedroom.

You wanted to forget about it, but every time you run into Hyunjin in the dorm you would tense up, unable to hold a conversation or even eye contact with him. It’s just Hyunjin and he just heard you in the bedroom, that was it. Han and Changbin overheard too but why was Hyunjin the person that was making you so flustered?

“Channie..” you sighed. You’re not annoyed at him asking but you just don’t have an answer for it. He looks over at you, biting his bottom lip at your cute expression before turning the tap off.

“You know how we were talking about kinks?” he brushes behind you, drying his wet hands on your (his) shirt in the process.

You playfully side-eye him as he makes himself comfortable leaning back on the counter. “Don’t tell me you like it when they hear us?”

Chan just chuckles because frankly, it was the truth.

“I mean, isn’t it hot though? Them listening to my sweet girlfriend,” you feel your cheeks heat up.

Not even a week ago he admitted to having an obsession with your voice, now he is saying he isn’t against the idea of his friends hearing you two fuck. May as well go all the way, right?

“May as well let them watch us or join us too, right?” You cheekily mumbled, placing the dish on the counter. Chan’s eyes widened in response to your comment. Was his sweet innocent girlfriend finally suggesting something steamy?

“Can we?” Chan tugs you to stand in between his feet, his hands landing on your hips.

“Wait, are you being serious?”

“Aren’t you?” he mocked your stunned tone.

You don’t hate the idea.

“Listen, baby, I’ll be honest I’m not against the idea of them joining us.. but only if you want to,” he proposed, his hands drawing circles.

When you don’t answer he repeats “I don’t mind it,” by you again, and a sense of desire fills the air. You find it extremely sexy when he communicates what he wants.

“Is it something you really want?”

“Yes. But only if you want it too.”

“You know how obsessed I am with you right?” you tilt your head to the side, your big doe eyes looking up at him; a playful gesture that indicates you want this too.

He sucks in his lips, holding back a smile. “But I don’t want you to do it because of me, baby. I want you to do it because you want to, hm?”

You gripped the hem of his shirt, burying your face in his chest as you think of the idea of Chan sharing you with Hyun—

“—Who you thinking about?” Chan lifts your chin meeting your blushed cheeks; this is his cue to tease you.

“Changbin?” You stay quiet. “Jisung?” You don’t answer again.

A smirk pulls across his face as realizes who’s got you all red. Some may think it’s a punch to the face, one’s girlfriend thinking about another man right in front of them, but Chan loves it. He loves seeing you shy, seeing you all red; embarrassed. If anything, he’s the one who’s obsessed with you, willing to do anything for his sweet girlfriend.

“Hyunjin.” He says and your grip tightens.

Bingo.

“You still got that little crush on him, don’t you?” Chan torments.

“No.. I don’t.. I— I never had a crush on him..”

“Liar. My pouty slutty baby..” he places a kiss on your cheek.. “..thinking about Hyunjin while I’m right here..” he kisses your other cheek. “Such a slutty..”

“You started it—” Before you could finish, you find yourself engaged in a playful yet heated exchange of pecks with your sweet other half. A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you let him have his way with you for a moment before you pull away, giggling when he chases you. “—And yes… I’ll be up for the idea of letting Hyunjin join us.. if you want,” you proposed, with a smirk.

Chan scoffs. “Wow, using my own words. I think I like my baby brave too.” He gives you another chaste kiss. “I’ll ask Hyunjin then. If he doesn’t want it, then we’ll pretend we never asked. You don’t have to be embarrassed about it okay?” You’re in awe at his ability to understand you so effortlessly, reading you like a book he spends countless hours re-reading. How did you get so lucky?

“Okay,” a shy smile spreads across your face.

“You wanna hop in the shower with me?” he closes the gap between you, brushing something hard against your lower stomach. You gasped, “Who’s the slutty one now?”

A week has gone by now since Chan ruined you in the shower after the conversation. 3Racha had left for the studio leaving you cooped up in Chan’s room as you finish off your work report. It was late afternoon now and you finally headed into the kitchen, wanting to cook a quick snack for the boys.

“You hungry?” Hyunjin sneaks up behind you, scaring you as you stand in the kitchen to watch the pot of water.

“Oh no..” you turned around, a fire starting on your face at how close he was to you. “I— I was just making Chan them something—” Hyunjin closes the already short gap causing you to stop talking. He looks down at you before reaching behind you turning off the stove as the water boils over, leaving a hissing noise making you flinch.

“Careful,” he says, sliding the pot across the cooktop so it doesn’t burn you. “You okay noona?” Your heart skips at his tender tone, blushing at the way he looks at you; his frame is so lean but so tall, so so different from your Chan’s. You let your mind wander back to the conversation you had with your boyfriend the other day.

“Thanks… I, yeah I’m—”

“—You just seem tense recently.” Hyunjin smirks, almost like he’s teasing you.

“I’m okay..” you timidly say unable to look away from his face.

“Good.” He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, something about it is so suggestive making your mind wonder what else he can do with it.

“Hey baby,” Chan’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and your neck snaps to his entrance into the kitchen.

“Oh- h- hi,” you say breathlessly as if you had done something wrong.

“You.. you guys are home already?”

“Only me,” Chan quickly winks at Hyunjin before joining your personal bubble, his hand snaking around your waist. “The others went out with Seungmin them.”

Hyunjin steps back, leaning back against the kitchen counter and watching Chan devour you into a deep kiss. “You hungry?” Chan pulls away, looking at the packs of noodles on the counter.

“No, I- I was going to make it for you guys.” “I’m not too hungry for food at the moment baby, thank you though…” he rubs your back. “Maybe Hyunjin can order in for us a bit later on…” he continues peering straight ahead at Hyunjin. You watch them convey with their eyes, sudden tension in the air. “Will that be okay with you?”

“Hm?” You finally answer.

“You okay with Hyunjin ordering food for us.. after he joins us?” Smirks appear on their faces.

“N—Now?”

“If you want,” Chan’s kiss is placed on your temple.

“I.. I want but..” you grip the back of his shirt, “I’m just..”

“Relax baby.. We can stop once you get shy,” he reassured you.

“Hyunjin’s a little shy too.”

Yeah, sure he is. It wasn’t like he was towering over you a minute ago, teasing you with his tongue.

You don’t know how you ended like this but here you are under Chan in only your bra and panties while he bruises kisses on your neck. Hyunjin lays on his side on the same bed, watching you twist underneath your boyfriend chasing for his lips.

“Chan— wanna kiss..” you asked.

“But I wanna taste you though baby.” He cheekily whines back.

“Kiss..” you push him so you can sit up.

“Looks like you gotta ask someone else to keep your mouth occupied, hm?” He shoots Hyunjin a look and you turn to the pretty boy in the same bed. You felt sudden heat radiating off your cheeks, for a moment you forgot Hyunjin was watching.

You spot a soft smirk appearing on Hyunjin’s face, he was teasing you. “Hyunjin?” You bravely call “Can you kiss me? Chan’s being mean,” Chan laughs, shuffling back on the bed to take his shirt off.

Hyunjin moves closer to you and your gaze shifts from him to Chan, awaiting his confirmation. You can’t lie, although you were up for this, a tiny bit of you feels guilty your partner is sharing you with his best friend because you know if it was the other way around, you would be jealous.

“Go on baby,” your boyfriend tenderly answers.

You take in a sharp breath, then turn back to Hyunjin, who drops his focus on your face down to your half-naked body, gulping. He hates to admit but his hyung’s girlfriend is so pretty like this: all flushed on the bed. He wished he could have had this chance earlier, to cum at the sight of you instead of jerking himself off to your muffled moans coming from the other side of his bedroom wall.

“You’re gorgeous,” it slipped out from his mouth and if you weren’t red then you are definitely red now.

He leans in and finally press his lips onto yours. A moan escaping your lips at the contact and you instantly wrapped your arms around him pulling him closer. His lips are so similar yet so different from Chan’s, with a plumper bottom lip it was so perfect to bite on, and you did just that when he kissed harder.

“There we go,” Chan snickers watching you and Hyunjin move in perfect harmony. Chan roams his large hands on your thighs parting it so he can perfectly slot in between them. His hands then crept toward your panties, sending chills down your body. He licks his lips at the sight of your pussy perfectly sticking onto the cotton fabric.

“You’re so wet,” Chan runs his finger down covered slit, and you buckle your hips forward, dragging Hyunjin down onto you before he could even take a peek at what Chan was drooling over.

“Ahh, Chan.. please..” you managed to slip past Hyunjin’s lips nervously to plead and Chan gives you what you want - tugging your panties down and latching his mouth onto your clit.

“Oh—god,” you cry at the sensation.

You could barely keep it together, your first orgasm approaching fast at the way the two men work together to pleasure you – how skilled Chan is with using his filthy tongue to flick your little red bud and how could you not talk about Hyunjin’s sweet but desperate kisses? You haven’t felt this type of pleasure before, and you think you’re going to start getting greedy after having a taste of it. How amazing was your boyfriend to introduce you to such a heated proposal.

Your legs find themselves over Chan’s shoulders, hands flying to his hair, holding him in place as you grind up against him. You feel a tight knot in your stomach and with that you let out an intense whine as you cum, wiggling underneath both boys. You feel Chan’s breathe tickle your pussy as he chuckles against it, finding it amusing.

Hyunjin’s shuts his eyes, he feels like he’s going to combust after witnessing you get lost in pleasure and now feeling how your lower body is still moving against your boyfriend’s face to chase your high, how desperately greedy you are – it’s so cute to him. He doesn’t stop kissing you though and he instinctively rubs himself on top over his sweatpants.

“Mhmm—fuuu..” you say out of breath. Your lower half comes to a halt as you felt Chan starts to lick away the mess. Your hands travel down Hyunjin’s body, tugging the hem of his shirt then slipping under it.

You aren’t going to lie, you’re already addicted, this is all so exciting to you, and you start to become fearless. You get closer to the hem of his sweats and instantaneously cup his boner. Hyunjin moans and grinds against your hands, he can’t help himself either, but he has to not show his greedy side, after all you belong to Chan.

“Need to feel inside, baby,” Chan says from the end of the bed after examining your hole. He slips a finger inside, collecting your messy juice before pulling out and continuing to pump you. “God so wet, it feels so good—” he adds a second finger.

You start to pick up your pace rubbing Hyunjin over his clothes, but you pull away from him when you feel Chan suddenly stop fingering you. “Chan? What’s wrong?”

“Shhhh..” He whispers. “Just want Hyunjin to have a turn. I’m not going anywhere,” he caressed your thighs before spreading them apart further. It was all becoming a reality now. “Will that be alright, darling?”

“Yes” you softly answer.

“Okay Jinnie, don’t leave my girl waiting, she’s needy today.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

Hyunjin gulped seeing you all spread out in front of him. It felt like he grew a second boner staring at your glistening cunt. “You’re so wet,” Hyunjin voiced. A wave of embarrassment washes over you as you comprehend what’s actually happening. “So perfect.”

“Put this on though,” Chan hands him a tiny, foiled packet.

Hyunjin strips his shirt first and you do the same, getting rid of the material covering your boobs. You lay back down on the bed and Chan instantly cups your globes, playing with them as you wait for Hyunjin to tug away his pants. You took in a sharp breath now that you see his junk. You find it hard to be reasonable, almost drooling at how long and slender he is. And his likes to be shaved too. If you could describe a pretty cook, it would be Hyunjin’s cock.

He aligns himself after slipping on the thin rubber, the head of his cock just sitting at your entrance and your eyes are already rolling back. “Please please..”

He slowly enters you, eyes shutting at how tight you’re squeezing him. Chan lays besides you now, one hand on top on your head removing the sweat drenched hair pieces away so he can see his pretty girl’s face, while the fingers of the other hand rolling on your harden nipple. “Mmm, Chris?” He immediately wraps his lips against yours, not even letting you ask for his kisses. He knows you too well.

Hyunjin starts to pick up the pace, the wet slapping sounds filled the room mixed with yours and his moans. He feels so much gentler than Chan, he moves with such ease just sliding perfectly along your folds, giving you the perfect amount of pressure.

You pull away from Chan, although it could make you cum faster, you wanted to take care of him too. “You okay baby?”

“Want to.. ahh.. suck.. suck..” you grunt at each of Hyunjin’s thrust. “Want to suck you please baby…” you finally got out.

Chan’s eyebrows relaxes now that he’s knows there’s no discomfort. He smiles, admiring how good his girlfriend is for wanting to take care of him even though she loves kissing during sex. He shuffles towards you, palming himself and shutting his eyes at the how tight his cock was restraining against his boxers. “I don’t think I’m going to last long, baby. I’m so hard watching Hyunjin fuck you.” Dirty boy ~ you think to yourself.

Chan releases his pink, full cock. He pumps himself a couple of times letting the pre cum drip before tapping the tip against your lips.

You kissed his tip. Always will.

“You okay?” You give him a nod. “Good girl.” He slowly guides himself in your mouth. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to nut fast, you could feel him twitch instantly.

“Fuck— I’m so close baby.” Chan sucks in his breath as your mouth and tongue does wonder to him. “Good.. good girl.” Chan guides your head as you bob and soon enough, he groans, shooting ropes inside your mouth. “God, I love you so much.. so much,” You lick his shaft, swallowing the salty yet tasty excess he given you.

He sits back watching Hyunjin has his way with you. He finds this situation so hot; and he doesn’t know what’s gotten over him, but he’s not embarrassed of how much he is enjoying this.

“I’m close Hyunjin,” you squeal, reaching out to hold on his arms which is now planted on either sides of you.

Your boyfriend’s fingers attach to your throbbing swollen clit, rubbing it in circles, helping you reach your second orgasm quicker.

“Kiss her when she cums,” Chan orders.

Hyunjin attaches his lips to yours and thrusts into you a couple more times and you both release together with muffled moans.

He falls onto you, catching his breath inside the crook of your neck. “You are so tight,” he mutters. “How do you and Chan go at it every day yet, you feel like a virgin.” Your hands come up to hug him, running down his back as you chuckle at his words. Little things like this bring back your shyness, you try your best to blush, but you do.

“That’s my baby,” Chan smiles at you before mouthing I love you.

You exhale heavily as you think, although you had already cum twice, you still wanted more. You wanted it raw; you wanted to be filled up. “Chan?” You voiced, and Hyunjin gathers his strength to removes himself from you.

“Yes baby?”

“I want more, please.. inside..” you pleaded.

Your boyfriend lets out a soft laugh “So needy baby,” but he complies every time. "But you have to include Hyunjin," you turn to see Hyunjin still hard.

You reach out for his length carefully wrapping your hand over it, he takes in a sharp breath. Oh he is loving every second of this.

Chan crawls over you, one hand holding the base of his cock whilst the other cradles your face. He kisses you the same time he enters you, the way he’s always done besides that one time last week when he was trying tease you. You squeal at pressure and start to pump Hyunjin's cock but Chan is such a sinner in bed that you could barely focus on Hyunjin.

You try your best not to shut your eyes, looking over and you see Hyunjin hands coming to covers yours, helping you jerk him off, oh what a sight. His long fingers wrapped around his own cock, it’s so pretty.

“Gonna cum..” Chan mumbled between your lips, and slams into you harder and your body pulses as you feel yourself reach your third orgasm. Chan comes undone seconds after you, spilling his white liquid into your hole.

“Fffuu- let me eat you out,” Chan himself wasn’t done too, so he manhandles you, spreading your thighs apart, definitely leaving his prints, to watch the mixture of his and your fluid drip on the sheets. He licks a fat stripe, and you start to twist at the sensation.

“Ssssshhiii..” you cried. “Can I, can I sit on you?” You pushed yourself up and Chan flips himself back before positioning you on top of him. This positions gives you more control on your hip’s movement but it’s also the perfect position to give Hyunjin head too.

“I want to taste you Jinnie, can I?” you breathlessly asked. Hyunjin’s mind was going crazy, how brave and sexy was his best friend’s girlfriend to ask. “Y/N, I’m not going to last,” he pleads, but he moves himself to in front of you. He jerks himself off a couple times, then presents his length to you. You lick his slit, tasting the remains of his salty release from before.

Hyunjin throws his head back, his body is spasming and he’s close, he’s so close.

You hold the rest of his length, as you suck his head. Your movements are sloppy and out of pace as Chan laps your fold, his big nose coming in contact with your clit every now and making the knot in your stomach tighter and tighter.

“Ughh, I, I, I’m gonna cum Chan, please don’t stop,” you say before licking up Hyunjin’s shaft, and taking all of him into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck— Y/N, I’m going to cum, I’m cumming..” Hyunjin moans with his head thrown back as he releases in your mouth as you gagged around him. You swallow all of it before letting him go with a pop. Hyunjin instantly holds your arms, pulling you up to meet his face. He kisses you roughly through your last orgasm Chan coaxes out of you.

You were spent, but you loved every second of it.

“I’m just get a towel; can you hold her?”

A few seconds gone by and he returns with a warm towel meeting Hyunjin spooning you, the younger man’s arm under your head as he brushes away your hair. After wiping between your legs clean, Chan joins you and Hyunjin in bed.

“My baby did so good, hm?” He hugs you from in front, and you squeezed his arm tighter, looking up to give him a soft smile. “Not so shy anymore? After charming two orgasms out of each of us?” he presses a kiss to your lips.

“Did you enjoyed it baby?” you ask.

“Yes baby. I loved everything about it and I’m sure Hyunjin did too.” You lean in to give him one more kiss, gentle and sweet.

You turn over to the man behind you and press a gentle peck to the corner of his lips. “Thank you Hyunjin,” you whispered before drifting off to dreamland.

“No, thank you,” Hyunjin replies back quietly.

“What do you think?” The older man askes from the other side of you.

“She’s good in bed Hyung,” he admits. “And her kisses are addictive…”

“— Lucky for you she loves to be kissed,” Chan smirks.

“I don’t think I can be sane, she’s sounds so pretty in bed. Its crazy,” Hyunjin confesses.

“Lucky for you too, she doesn’t minds you hearing her.”

You stir out of sleep, finding yourself nestled in Hyunjin’s hold. Your heart drops noticing it’s not your baby you’re up against. You feel a big hand comes to squeeze your butt, “I’m right here doll,” your boyfriends reassure.

You carefully wiggle out of Hyunjin’s arms, turning around to see Chan back against the headboard, his hand still on you, the other scrolling down on his phone. You smile at the sight; he looks so cute with his curly hair down.

“You wanna tell Hyunjin what you want to eat for dinner?”

“I wish you were here Chris.. I need you.. so bad..” you whine over the line.

He chuckles at your honestly, smiling to himself at how brave you have been lately. “We literally fucked before I went, and it’s only been a few hours baby. And I just got here,” he teased, tongue pushing the inside of his mouth. He can imagine you all alone on his bed, a pillow in-betweens your thighs as you trying to stop the ache.

“Yeah,” you vulnerable answer. “But I need it again.. I want it..” you moan into the phone.

Chan smirks to himself and you can hear him conceal a giggle. “Well only 3Racha is performing… Someone is still back there… who can help you..” he offered.

You feel your whole body go numb; how can he say such a thing. “Chan… how can you say—”

“-I don’t mind baby.. I’ve seen how he treated you and let’s just say I’m not opposed to it… At all.”

Your thighs press together, you licked your lips… Your boyfriend left you speechless.

“What’s wrong doll? You’re thinking if it too hey?”

[art-from-the-juice-box]

here he isssss it turns out i could have done this wayyy sooner cause i had a pokémon saved to his section on my pinboard that has been sat there for weeks that i forgot about lol. i assume i figured out who he’d be after i posted the other two and then just forgot i did? anyway he’s here now :)

[malachitezmeyka]

Honestly I’d really like to make some kind of MLP AU or redesign/rewrite or whatever else of the sort because MLP was essentially my first fandom and it’s extremely nostalgic to me, but I’ve seen so many people do it already and have found myself physically incapable of producing something that isn’t blatantly copying what other people have done :/

[cheaploafs]

they were roommates…

[samuraisharkie]

I’ve seen it coming years away, but it still always manages to make me bleed a little bit more when I am reminded I AM being left behind, watching everyone I know go on ahead of me because why the hell would they hold themselves back like that? I wouldn’t want them to, but it still hurts to be reminded that I’m still stuck here for the foreseeable future, that there will be no collaboration, it’s up to me and kitty and only us. I’m still in the same place I was when I graduated high school. I don’t see a way out yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever have enough money on my own. It’s depressing being reminded of it all. I’m not ready and I should be. I’ve wasted so much time, how am I going to catch up and not feel decades behind my peers? I don’t hate myself or my body (I can’t afford to do that again) but a lot of times I wish there was something different about me that made it so I had the same ease/difficulty doing things that others did, that I could form habits like most people can, that I wasn’t so exhausted mentally and physically all the time. It’s mortifying to be left behind. I’m happy for them, and I hate that it’s soured by my own problems and tinged with selfish resentment that it’s just me and my twin against the world.

[remxedmoon]

so all you need to do right now is disappear.

HHHHAPPY ISATVERSARY EVERYONE. here’s redraws for every single battle cg in the game. 36 drawings this time around, with 11 of those being custom (though admittedly a good portion of those are edits). combined with the portrait redraws i made back in september, i’ve made 114 redraws for this project! jesus christ! just like those redraws, these are completely free to use!! as long as i’m credited and it’s not for commercial purposes, go wild!! do whatever you want!!!

no i didn’t make these for isat’s 1 year anniversary this is just wildly good timing.

i genuinely can’t fit all of these cgs in one post even with the 30 image limit on browser, but i’ll still try to fit Most of them below the cut (without making this post horrifically long), along with some notes that might be important 👍

okay! once again, i labeled all of the custom art as such in the drive(UPDATE. NNOT TRUE ANYMORE. reformatted file names to be easier to mod in auau. apologies!), but if you want a full list, the customs are hatless siffrin jackpot, bonnie jackpot, bonnie special attack, bigfrin attack, and a bunch of alts which are definitely not related to any projects i’ve been thinking about don’t worry about it. and out of those customs, only like. 3 of them are actually completely from scratch.

while i did my absolute best to keep the aspect ratios completely the same as the originals, there’s 3 exceptions that i just couldn’t get to work.

isabeau’s hair in his special attack cg wouldn’t fit in frame if i kept things completely accurate to the og, so i moved his cg down a bit. it shouldn’t cause any issues with modding or anything, it’ll just appear slightly lower than it does in game. alas…

isabeau’s sleeve and mirabelle’s hair made their jackpot sprites a little larger than the originals? i’m hoping this doesn’t have too much of an effect (since the jackpot sprites have inconsistent sizes) but i can’t test this myself unfortunately. aaa feel free to let me know on discord if any problems arise!!

i managed to fix these, so they aren’t going to cause problems now, but my original drawings for mirabelle and siffrin in the final attack scene were a pain in the ass to fix. mirabelle’s sprite was slightly too talk to fit in frame and siffrin’s hat whacked bonnie in the face while i was editing everyone together. i’m only mentioning this because it took like an hour and a half to fix them and finish the scene.

all that aside, these were a fucking BLAST to work on. apparently this ended up taking 57 hours over exactly 10 days. which is a little worrying if you do the math on that but somehow i have not burnt myself out. i will be doing enemies at some point!!! but probably not for a little bit. i think my friends will actually kill me if i don’t take a break.

once again, happy birthday isat. you’ve ruined my life and i wouldn’t have it any other way (silly).

also, on an actual serious note, this little timeloop game has genuinely changed my life for the better? you guys are probably sick of hearing it at this point (or maybe not, i don’t talk about myself That Much. i hope), but i was practically a ghost for about 2 years before joining this fandom. it’s a little surreal to suddenly have friends (plural!!!) and people who Care about me, or even know i exist, honestly. it’s weird!! in a good way!!!

i don’t think i would’ve ever come back to social media if this community wasn’t so welcoming. i’ve met a lot of really great people through this game!!! so, uh, thank you isat, i guess. here’s to another year.

[saintobio]

blank canvas: the epilogue.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. past lovers, angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. mentions of toxic relationships, purple hearts-ish themes, maybe some heartache

notes. 2.4k wc. i said it’ll come in a few days, but i had free time so here it issss!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

TWO YEARS LATER

Tonight was Yuki and Choso’s going-away party. 

Their decision to migrate to another side of the world was because Yuki had always talked about wanting to live abroad, and so when Choso was offered a once-in-a-lifetime job opportunity in another country, it became the perfect chance for them to make that dream a reality.

So despite your apprehensions, you couldn’t miss the chance to see Yuki one last time and accepted her invitation to the party.

The evening was alive with laughter and chatter as their families and friends gathered to celebrate their bittersweet departure. Among the crowd, you spotted some familiar faces who exchanged greetings with the couple, as well as some strangers you had never seen before.

But one person was conspicuously absent. 

It had been two years since you had seen Sukuna, and the thought of potentially running into him again filled you with a strange mix of anticipation and dread. However, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t be there. There was no chance of him ever showing up because you hadn’t heard from him since that fateful night. The apartment you once shared together now housed a new tenant, and the tattoo shop across the street had transformed into a record store. Neither Yuki, nor Choso (even Yuuji), had mentioned anything about Sukuna since then, possibly avoiding any mentions of him to you out of his request. He had simply disappeared, evaporated from existence, leaving behind nothing but a fading memory.

As you scanned the room with a forlorn smile, your thoughts were interrupted by Yuki’s cheerful voice. “Y/N! So glad you could make it! I thought you weren’t gonna come, too.”

Your first instinct was to hug her tightly. “Of course, not! You know I can’t not see you before you go.”

“Aww.” She embraced you tighter before pulling away with a sad smile. “I’m gonna miss you so much. You’re like a little sister to me.” 

Indeed, and she was the big sister you never had. Things would feel different without her here, but you supported her decisions and would always wish her the best in her future endeavors. So, despite the distance you two would soon have, you gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “We can still keep in touch. And maybe, I’ll pay you a visit there, too.” 

“Honestly, I would love that!” she enthused, “Please do, even if I have to harass Getou and Gojou about it.” 

You chuckled as she mentioned the duo’s name and spent the next few minutes with you chatting for a bit, catching up with your life, talking about your future plans. It was amazing how much can change in two years, and how some things can also stay the same. Like your friendship. And this bond that you would never find with anyone else.

For now, the night was still young, and you knew Yuki still had many more guests to accommodate, so you didn’t want to take all of her time. Eventually she did excuse herself to greet more guests, and you found yourself standing by the kitchen island, absentmindedly stirring your cocktail.

As you stood in the corner of the room, surrounded by the chatter and laughter of the party, you felt a sudden jolt run through your body as loud voices boomed across the room. They were Yuuji and Choso’s exuberant greetings cutting through the air, drawing everyone’s attention, including yours.

“Nii-san!”

“There he goes, Mr. First Lieutenant!” 

Your eyes widened as you saw the figure they were addressing with playful salute—a man in a crisp military uniform, standing tall and confident. It took you a moment to recognize him, but when you did, your heart skipped a beat.

It was Sukuna.

He looked different, transformed almost, his demeanor more composed, his smile softer yet still retaining the undeniable aura of masculinity. He looked a lot more muscular than the last you remembered. His hair, now dyed back to its natural color, was neatly trimmed. You recognized that the uniform he wore was of the Japan Self-Defense Forces, adorned with badges and insignias that spoke of his achievements. The reckless, wild look in his eyes had been replaced by something steadier, more focused.

It wasn’t just the sight of him that made your heart skip a beat—it was how different he looked. 

“That’s so cool!” Yuuji raved about his older brother’s badges, his starry eyes genuinely intrigued at the sight of Sukuna in a uniform. 

Choso, on the other hand, was pulling him in a hug in an emotional jest. “Dammit. You said you couldn’t make it!” 

“Don’t cry now,” Sukuna teased, patting the younger brother’s back. He seemed to be genuinely having fun teasing his brothers. “Had to pull some strings. I was on duty, but do ‘ya think I’d let you go without seeing you?” 

You felt a pang of nostalgia in their interaction, but also recognized the visible difference in the way your ex-boyfriend spoke to others. He was genuinely happy. He was all smiles. He was the healthiest version of himself, both physically and emotionally.

It was clear to you that Sukuna had turned his life around, and it was evident that he was doing well in his field of work. The man you once knew, who had been consumed by his reckless way of life, was now standing tall and respected as an honorable member of the military.

When you said you had never met Sukuna again in your lifetime, that was true. Because the Sukuna you knew was no longer here. It was an entirely different man, changed for the better, just not for you. 

As if sensing your gaze, Sukuna turned and your eyes mirrored each other’s surprise. For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, as if you were characters in a movie screen seeing each other for the very first time. It was as though your eyes were the camera, and he was the actor. You could say you were starstruck, your heart thumping so loud that you could hear it vibrate through your ears. 

Two freaking years, and Sukuna still had that effect on you. 

You didn’t know what to do. You found yourself at a loss, the red cup in your hand now shaking from the sudden surge of anxiety. Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, a kaleidoscope of heavy emotions, a tornado of nostalgic bliss, leaving you feeling adrift in a sea of memories. 

You wondered if Sukuna hated having to see you here. And if so, should you leave to spare yourself—or perhaps him—from any potential discomfort?

Caught in this internal struggle, you felt paralyzed, uncertain of what to do next. But then, you saw a flicker of recognition and regret in his eyes. 

Before you could even contemplate your next move, Sukuna was already excusing himself from his brothers. Their knowing looks exchanged in silence spoke volumes, indicating they were aware of where he was headed. The realization then hit you like a wave. Sukuna, your ex-boyfriend of two years, was coming toward you, and you were suddenly faced with a decision between confronting the past or making a quick escape.

“Y/N,” he greeted with a boyish grin, his voice deeper, more controlled. The bad boy persona he used to carry was completely gone. 

“Sukuna,” you replied, struggling to keep your voice steady, a complete opposite from his confidence.

There was a moment of awkward silence before he spoke again. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” you meekly replied, clearing your throat and gesturing to his uniform, “You, too. Military suits you. I never saw that coming.”

He smiled in agreement, seemingly happy about his current appearance. You had never seen this kind of bliss from him before, like he was filled with content and a sense of self-worth. He was proud, and truth be told, you were, too. 

“It’s been a good change. It gave me structure, purpose,” he paused, taking a red cup from the kitchen island nearby, “I finally got something ‘better’ to do with my life, huh?”

You smiled softly, not missing the implication of his last statement. “I’m happy for you. Really.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” 

“Mhmm.” 

The minutes that followed were some of the most agonizing of your life, not because of Sukuna, but because of the overwhelming awkwardness that enveloped the two of you. It felt as though you had nothing else to discuss, knowing full well that delving into your shared past was a territory you could never comfortably navigate. However, Sukuna, always the more vocal one in your relationship, had finally broken the silence.

“Do you…” he began, leaving you on edge, anticipating his question, “Do you wanna get some fresh air outside?” 

Right. And with a smile, you nodded. “Sure.” 

— —

You were grateful for the opportunity to escape the stifling atmosphere of the party and find some solace in the cool night air. Both of you were at the front porch, sitting over the pavement talking about anything but your past. 

Sukuna excitedly talked about his time in the military, where you learned that he had enlisted two years ago and joined the army. After enlisting, he quickly excelled in the rigorous training required for the Special Operations Group (SOG). It didn’t surprise you that his physical prowess, sharp intellect, and determination made him a standout candidate.

“I actually completed advanced courses in counter-terrorism, reconnaissance, and combat survival,” he shared, his gaze set on the clear starry night above you. “Oh, and last month, I was deployed on a high-stake mission overseas. We extracted hostages from a conflict zone. Remember the action movies we used to watch? It was exactly like that. It was fun, thrilling.” 

You listened intently, an elbow propped on your leg as you absorbed the enthusiasm in his stories. Pride and joy swelled in your heart as you heard him talk about something he was passionate about, because it was a stark contrast to the old Sukuna who wouldn’t have shown interest in these things. And this time around, you felt like you were infatuated again, but with the new him. 

“I’m really proud of you.” Longingness dripping from your voice. “Very proud. And you’re First Lieutenant, too? Wow.” 

The compliment seemingly made him blush, a sight so rare to see that you haven’t seen it throughout your relationship. “I wanted to become a better man.” 

You felt a squeeze in your heart. You recalled the words he said that night at the parking lot, of him telling you that he had his own insecurities, too. That he knew all along that your uncertainties about him were rooting from his way of life. That he was aware that he couldn’t give you the life you deserved. 

“Y/N.” Your name rolled off his tongue in an affectionate manner. He soon rose from his seat, prompting you to follow suit, before turning to face you. “I forgot to mention.”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

His smile was sweet and genuine. “I’m engaged now.”

Oh.

Of course. 

What did you expect?

His words settled in your heart like a suffocating shroud. Despite the ache in your chest, you managed a polite nod, concealing the storm of emotions swirling inside you. But you couldn’t contain it—the damn tears that pooled in your eyes. Please, not now. You turned away, hoping to shield your reaction from him.

But it was all too late. 

He was already pulling you into an embrace, the familiarity in his warmth only making you weaker inside. “You are and will always be my greatest love,” he whispered into your ear, pressing his lips against your temple, “And also my biggest regret.”

Damn it. You covered your face with your hands, feeling ashamed of the tears streaming down your cheeks. What an absurd twist of fate. You could have gone about your day without encountering him again, yet here you were, shedding tears over the same man who had broken your heart two years ago.

“When I say regret,” he continued, cupping your cheeks and smiling at you lovingly. He ran his thumb across your cheeks, wiping your tears away. “I meant regret of not being that man for you. I didn’t treat you the way you deserved, or respected your boundaries like I thought I did.” Sukuna’s charm had you holding your breath still, too enamored by his beauty under the moonlight. He used to be a man of a few words, and now he didn’t shy away from pouring out his raw emotions. “I’m sorry I was two years too late. I’m sorry I had to let you go and be with someone else. But you and I know that it’s for the best.”

You weren’t crying because you wanted to get back together with him. You weren’t crying because he had promised marriage to someone else. You were crying because it felt like he was the one who slipped through your fingers, the one that got away, the one who could have been your forever if circumstances had aligned differently. It was the regret of a lost possibility, the ache of knowing that in another universe, you and him could have shared a lifetime together, untouched by the mistakes of the past.

He had dreams of making you his wife, dreams of having your children, dreams of growing old with you.

But the old Sukuna was dead, replaced by the new Sukuna who was happy and free from love’s toxicity. You realized it was time to let go. Time to bury the past and instead celebrate the future. 

“Congratulations on the engagement,” you offered your well wishes, pulling away slightly to meet his gaze with your tear-filled eyes. “I hope she doesn’t find you a handful.”

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “No, no. I have to behave or else I’m a dead man,” he joked. “She's in the army, too.”

“Well, I’m glad you met her, Sukuna. You deserve it,” you said, your voice filled with genuine warmth as you wiped your lachrymose eyes. 

Gratitude and comfort shone in his gaze. “And I’m glad you found your peace, Y/N. You always deserved better.”

You smiled in appreciation of his words as he helped you dust off your pants. Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket, briefly taking your attention away from the current scene. “Uh, I think I need to go,” you hesitated, glancing back at the house. “But I think Yuki’s pretty busy.”

“It’s fine,” he assured. “Do you want me to call you a cab or?”

“No, it’s okay,” you replied, shooting him a grateful expression. “Satoru’s on his way to pick me up.”

He nodded, smiling. “Cool.” You were surprised when he offered his hand, a gesture to finally close whatever remained between you two. “It was nice seeing you, Y/N.”

You shook his hand and gave him a playful salute. “Likewise, First Lieutenant Ryomen Sukuna.”

As he returned to the party, immediately attacked by his friends, there was no hint of yearning or longing in him, as if the poignant exchange with his ex-girlfriend had never occurred. He was back in the scene in a fluid motion, laughing, catching up with his loved ones, telling stories about his life. No heartbreaks, no painful memories.

While as you stood there, knowing you had shared respect and love for each other, you were happy that there was a sense of closure in seeing Sukuna as the man he had become. You had both grown, both changed, and in that moment, you knew that your story, though painful, had led you two to where you needed to be. 

That your love’s canvas, once blank, now held colors to complete the portrait.

[suntoru]

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍?!

✧˚ · . alt title: getting jealous of a little kid trying to steal ur man!!

cw: gn! reader, pure fluff, crackfic, maybe swearing, not proofread, idk what else please cut me some slack for wriothesley and nuevillettes part i haven’t gotten that far in genshin

─ ✰ 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 notices your little pout and glares to the small child. the little girl’s clutching onto his hand tight, sending him adoring gazes as she nuzzles into him softly, smirking deviously at you when she thinks your boyfriend isn’t paying attention. he’s a little confused at first, but manages to connect the dots. ah. so that’s what it is. his lips curve into a small smile as he notices your jealousy, thinks you’re the cutest thing in the world. he places the now scowling child into adeline’s care for a bit, before making his way to you with a sheepish smile.

“dearest… are you in need of some attention? my apologies, it seems i have neglected you for a bit too long. how about a walk together… just you and i?”

─ ✰ 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 is a girl dad, you can’t convince me otherwise. the little girl is giggling in his arms, squishing his cheeks as they play princesses and knights. for some reason, the girl is set out for you, side eyeing you every time you try to get close to kaeya. so with a sigh, you sit and watch them play with a small huff. after a while, kaeya hands the five year old some mora, telling her to go buy a snack from a nearby cart and that they’ll play again later. she excitedly runs off as he saunters over to you with his signature smirk. he scoops you up into his arms, holding you flush against his chest. “you’ve got some real competition, hm?” he lets out a charming laugh as he teases you lightheartedly.

“don’t worry my love, you still own my heart… for now.”

─ ✰ 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 loves playing with little kids. they remind him of teucer and his other younger siblings, forgetting about his harbinger duties for a moment as he plays hide and seek with the little girl. she shyly hands him a flower she picked herself, blushing slightly. he feels his heart melt, feeling a sense of protectiveness was over him as she clutches his leg tight. he’s unaware of your pout until the child reluctantly has to go back home for supper, his concentration snapping back to you. he grins at your frowny expression, tugging you into his arms, squeezing you tightly.

“aww, y/n, are ya jealous? ahaha, so you are! …stop pouting, i’ll make sure to give you some extra attention tonight~”

─ ✰ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄 does not like the little kid either. sorry, what were you expecting? he doesn’t like any kids at all, unless it’s your kid. reluctantly, he entertains the child for a bit, attempting to hide his annoyed expression as the little girl tugs at his hat, giggling loudly. he also finds himself glaring coldly at the five year old every time she sticks her tongue out at you, climbing into his lap as she refuses to look at you. at this point, he just wants to go back to you, but the little girl cries every time he attempts to stand up. he almost smiles when the child’s mother finally finds the little girl, speed walking over to you as he allows you to cling onto him softly, frown instantly melting away.

“hmph. what an annoying brat. …our kid would be much cuter.”

─ ✰ 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀 smiles at the small child as she draws a picture of her and kazuha holding hands. he allows her to play with her hair, acting as a father figure to this sweet little girl. it’s almost like a perfect family… except this demon child hates you. she steals all of kazuha’s attention, and whenever you try to initiate affection, she drags him away possessively. …you never thought you’d have a five year old compete with you over your boyfriend. if not for kazuha’s patience, you might have lost it. he pulls you into a corner with a knowing smile, peppering your face with kisses as he chuckles softly.

“dove, there’s no reason to pout… you’ll always be my muse, alright? so stop frowning… a smile suits you much better.”

─ ✰ 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 frowns slightly seeing the girl cling onto his arm. …where are her parents? should he leave? …no, that would possibly put the child in danger… but at the same time, it’s taking away his time with you. he allows the little girl to stay, observing curiously as the little girl blushes ever so slightly while playing with his hair. …strange. this small creature acts so much like you, yet seems to hate your guts… he turns to you, surprised to see you grouchy. standing up, ignoring the girl’s protests, he tilts your head up with his hand, gorgeous amber eyes boring into yours.

“…have i done something to make you upset? tell me, so i can fix it.”

─ ✰ 𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎 knows. this little bitch knows what he’s doing… it’s been a peaceful few weeks, why not stir it up a little? he holds her teensy tiny hand in his, feeding her delulu in further, and spends what was supposed to be your date with him into a play date with the little gremlin. it’s seven when the girl falls asleep, finally paying attention to you. he smiles mischievously at your grouchy pout, pulling you in closer as a soft melody starts playing, spilling you around as you waltz around the room.

“…ah? so you knew i was teasing you? …i have to make it up to you now? very well. how about a nice massage and some cuddles tonight?”

─ ✰ 𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌 stares at the child. …why is it so attached to him? kaveh and you were right there, with open arms, beaming at the little girl… and now sobbing as the child ignores you… not knowing what to do, he continues reading his book… but it’s not long before she tugs his sleeve, asking for him to read her a book. he obliges, reading to her in the most monotonous voice, it would be more surprising if the little five year old didn’t fall asleep. looking up, he sees you scowling at the little girl, and he feels his heart warm the slightest bit.

“…what i read her? the extensive analysis of the color brown: the non-illustrated edition. simply fascinating.”

─ ✰ 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇 cooes as the little girl bats her eyelashes, beaming so innocently, his entire heart melts. this little girl is his now, sorry parents!! you snooze, you lose. when you whisper to him how you think she hates you, he audibly gasps. this sweet little angel? no way!! he shows her all around his office, the secret projects he hasn’t even shown you yet!! they have a field day with that. when the sun sets, he reluctantly gives her back to her very grateful parents. his eyes sparkle at your pout, squeezing you tightly.

“oh, you wish to know what the classified architecture is too? …it’s… our future home. for me and you.”

─ ✰ 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 visibly softens at the little girl tugging his shirt. unbeknownst to most who believe he is as stoic as he is in the court, he seems to be very soft and gentle. he allows her to clumsily braid his silky strands, keeping the hairstyle on for the day, ignoring the confused stares he gets from fellow passerby. however, when you try to give him a peck, she pushes you with a glare, clinging onto his sleeve! your mouth visibly drops, and you don’t know whether to laugh or be mad. neuvillette is equally as shocked, scolding her lightly.

“beloved, are you all right? …no? shall i kiss it better?”

─ ✰ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 expected the five year old to go running into your arms, screaming and crying. after all, he certainly looks like a scary man, having quite a tall stature, covered in scars as well. but no, she innocently beams at him cutely asking to play tea party. so that’s the sight you walked into, a small child, wriothesley, and a handful of barbies surrounding the round table, all having teacups. the girl glares at you, telling you you can’t join, as your smile drops. this little roach… who does she think she is? before you can say anything, he pulls you to the side, whispering quietly.

“babe, we’ll have our own tea party date later… yes, yes, i promise.”

©kaeffeinee 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[luveline]

If you're taking request for Spencer and Bombshell!reader I think it would be so incredibly adorable if they were both on the way to a case (or coming back) and their little baby Amanda was face timing them to say hi to them and the team 🥺🥺

“Video call for you, momma,” Penelope says, plonking a laptop down onto the desk in front of you, and then quickly being called away by Emily for help.

You ditch your pen immediately, nail scratching the laptop trackpad as you slide the cursor to ACCEPT. 

Amanda’s face fills the screen, a shy smile like her dad’s close to the camera, her eyes almost cut off by the top of the screen. 

“Amy, babe, you’re too close to the computer! I can’t see your lovely face.” 

Amy sits back in her chair. “Is this okay?” 

You take her in. You trust your babysitter to take good care of her, but nothing is as reassuring as seeing her unhurt and smiling. “Hi, baby.” 

“Hi mommy,” she greets. “Where’s daddy?” 

“He’s in the bathroom. Be back any minute. Are you being a good girl for Mrs. Gamorrah? How’s your tummy?” 

“I’m being good,” she says, ignoring the important question, “did you see my t-shirt?” She brings her shirt closer to the camera. She’s wearing her favourite pyjamas with the butterflies she had for her birthday, “Look, Mrs. Gamorrah got the soup stain gone.” 

You beam at her. You miss her like crazy when you’re not there. You and Spencer take turns staying home most of the time, and so being apart from her and knowing she doesn’t have Spencer to soften your absence makes it easier to worry about her, and harder to concentrate on the work. 

The door opens. You twist your head. 

Spencer’s drying his hands on a paper towel. “Is that Amy?” 

“Quick, she wants to see you.” 

Spencer hurries to the laptop, bending at the waist to see the screen and his impatient daughter. 

“Amy!” he says, like she’s the only person he’s ever wanted to see, voice enthused with his most dad-appropriate saccharine. “Hi, bunny, hi, hello. I miss you so much, are you okay? I miss you.” 

You tap his leg gently. Calm down. 

“Daddy, I am so happy, and I miss you too! We’re doing pictures.” She holds up a sheet of paper covered in crayon drawings. “Are you okay too?” 

“I’m great now I’m seeing you. I really miss you, sweetheart, I’m sorry we’re both away at work.” 

“It’s okay. Me and Mrs. Gamorrah are gonna have pizza and jiffy pop and soda tonight. It would be good with you, but it’s still fun.” 

“That’s good,” you say, putting your hand on the keys, wishing you could feel her soft arm in your hand, stroke her silken forehead. “We’re gonna be home soon. Maybe even tomorrow.” 

Spencer wraps his arm behind your shoulder. “Me and mom miss you so so much, and we’re so proud of you being a good girl at home. We’re gonna bring you a big present for being by yourself.” 

“I’m not by myself, dad, I have Mrs. Gamorrah. Plus, Uncle Morgan said he wants to take me and Hank swimming on Sunday.” 

“I’m sure we’ll be home before Sunday.” You smother your frown. Spencer kisses your cheek. 

“Give one for me, dad!” 

Spencer kisses you again. “That one good enough?” he asks. 

“Another one!” 

When you get home, you’re gonna spoil the death out of her. Like, worse than you’ve ever spoiled her before. Spencer presses another great kiss to your cheek and smushes your faces together, Amy on the screen reaching for you both for a ghost hug. “I wanted to say hi before we go to the store. Can I call you again before bed?” 

“Yeah, baby, call again!” You rush to answer. “Call daddy’s phone, okay? Mine’s not working right. I’ll answer you, we’ll talk all about your day. Okay? I miss you very much.” 

“I miss you too. Bye bye.” 

“Okay, bye bye,” you say, “I love you.” 

“Love you, Amanda,” Spencer says. 

She waves her little hand until it looks like it might fall off of her wrist. Spencer waves back just as hard.

[pandapetals]

Already Yours

You and Logan's students think you should date due to the teasing banter you have. However, you are already married to him.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

There was a loud knock on your classroom door, breaking the silence and immediately drawing the attention of your students. You looked up from the stack of essays you were grading and felt a small smirk tug at the corner of your lips when you saw Logan leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, with his signature scowl plastered across his face.

You weren’t the only one who noticed him. From the corner of the room, one of the students leaned toward his friend, stage-whispering, “Oooo. Professor Howlett looks pissed.”

You barely contained your eye roll. You’d heard the rumors—how the students thought Logan was some grumpy bear of a man, ready to tear into anyone who crossed him. But the truth? That was just his face and his attitude. Mostly his face, though. Still, the whole “gruff Wolverine” thing really worked for him, even if the students had no idea that beneath all that tough exterior was a man who had a soft spot for a certain English professor.

You crossed your arms, leaning back in your chair as you raised an eyebrow at him. “What can I do for you, Professor Howlett?”

Logan gave you a long, slow look, his jaw tightening for effect as he ignored the stifled giggles coming from your students. His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall and then back to you. “You realize it’s been twenty minutes since your class was supposed to end, right?”

You feigned surprise, glancing at the clock and then back to him. “Oh, has it? I hadn’t noticed.”

Behind you, one of the students snickered. “Bet they’re gonna fight,” a girl whispered to her friend.

“They should just kiss already.” The friend whispered back. 

Logan smirked, stepping into the classroom and making a deliberate show of walking over to your desk. “You know, some of us have important subjects to teach. You’re holding up my history class.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear. “I’m sure your students have heard enough about Pride and Prejudice for one day, darlin’.”

You couldn’t stop the amused smile from spreading across your face. “Oh, right. Because nothing says riveting education like listening to you lecture about... what was it again? The Battle of Saratoga?”

Logan gave you a deadpan look. “Better than listening to you talk about Mr. Darcy.”

The class was barely holding it together at this point, eyes darting between the two of you like they were watching the most interesting tennis match of their lives. They didn’t realize they were watching an argument between two professors who had been very happily married for years—and this was just your everyday banter.

You shrugged, standing from your desk and making a show of addressing the students. “Alright, everyone, class dismissed. And don’t forget your essays are due on Friday.” Your students groaned but began packing up their things.

Logan crossed his arms, watching them leave with a faint look of amusement on his face. He turned his attention back to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Friday? Cruel, even for you.”

“Hey, they’ve had two weeks to work on those essays. Besides,” you shot him a wink, “maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll start shipping Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth instead of... what was it again? Wolverine and the English Professor?”

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth that told you he was amused. He leaned against your desk as the last of your students filed out of the room, throwing glances back at the two of you and whispering as they went. “You know they think we hate each other, right?”

You grinned, stepping closer to him once the classroom was empty. “Well, we do give them plenty of ammunition for that theory.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking down at you with that familiar, teasing glint in his eyes. “And yet, they still seem convinced we’re meant to be.”

You laughed softly, resting your hand on his chest. “I wonder what they’d think if they knew we were married.”

Logan smirked, his hand sliding to your waist. “Probably think I brainwashed you or somethin’.”

“Oh, definitely. I mean, who in their right mind would marry the ‘mean’ history professor with anger issues?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble that always sent a shiver through you. “Guess you like a challenge.”

Your fingers trailed lightly over his chest, your heart warming at how easy and natural this was. “You’re not that much of a challenge.”

Logan chuckled, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple, his voice softening. “Guess I’m lucky, then.”

The moment lingered, quiet and intimate, until the sound of hurried footsteps outside the door reminded you where you were. You quickly pulled back, even though no one was around, and gave him a playful push. “Go teach your class, Professor Howlett.”

Logan chuckled, adjusting his stance. “You’re gonna pay for makin’ me late,” he muttered, though his tone was far from serious.

“I’m terrified,” you deadpanned, smirking as you leaned against your desk.

As he turned to leave, one of your students poked their head back into the room, eyes wide with curiosity. “Hey, uh, Professor? Are you and Professor Howlett... like, a thing?”

You barely managed to keep a straight face. “No, no,” you said, shaking your head with a smile. “We’re just coworkers. He’s not my type.”

Logan paused in the doorway, casting a glance over his shoulder. “You’re really gonna lie to the poor kid like that?”

The student’s eyes widened as Logan threw you a wink before walking out of the classroom. “What does that mean?” the student asked, completely intrigued.

You just waved it off, chuckling to yourself as you grabbed your bag. “It means... you’ll just have to keep guessing.”

[jenscx]

LUCID DREAM — ning yizhuo

it’s been years without ning yizhuo in your life. it feels surreal; the day you walked out without an explanation. but just the thought of being able to see her again, it draws you back into the endless loop of loving her.

TAGS — angst, exes to ???, insecurity, model!ning, ambiguous ending, mentions of alcohol, making up, jmj wedding (we don’t actually get to witness it tho)

WORDCOUNT — 7.4k

you stare at the wedding invitation, written neatly at the top, the invitation is addressed to a ning y/n. you want to cry. the invitation clearly stating your ex’s name makes your heart clench uncomfortably. it’s a blaring reminder that your relationship ended and you’re no longer living in your childhood fantasy.

“fuck,” you swear, “fuck you, kim minjeong.” you want to murder minjeong, but who were you to ask minjeong to stop reminding you of your bitter ending? especially since it was your own impulsiveness that had ended the relationship. you could have been more understanding towards yizhuo, could have tried her best to resolve your conflict, but no. instead, you ran. ran like the coward you were.

you remember the brokenhearted look on yizhuo’s face, the devastated glimmer in her eyes before she had flipped her expression to another, like a switch. or more like a broken one, your brain offers unhelpfully. of course, the quiver of her lips had given yizhuo away almost immediately. you had known yizhuo for a third of your life, obviously you could tell when your soulmate– or in this case, ex, was about to break down.

you wish you had stayed, and simply comforted your soulmate like old times, but you couldn’t bear to watch yizhuo cry, because of you. you remember the look on your friends’ faces when you told them that you broke up with yizhuo, all the words they had yelled at her for betraying yizhuo. you remember the anger directed at you by yizhuo’s parents when you had sent them an apology letter. through the post, yizhuo had told you, letters felt more sincere than emails.

but perhaps the worst reaction wasn’t from any of them, it was simply from your own cat. meowing viciously when you had picked him up, bringing him together with you. the scratches lining your arms only serve as a constant reminder. mao, your british short haired, was desperately attached to yizhuo (and she was the one who named him too. what absolute luck.) his hostility could only be reasoned that he knew his owner had hurt yizhuo. if a silly little cat knew the extent of the breakup, what could that mean for you?

“wallowing in your grief again? that’s not good for you,” you peer up at chaewon, the only friend that somehow wasn’t connected to yizhuo. chaewon takes a quick glance at the invitation and giggles, “you’re going? i hope you survive, you haven’t paid this month’s rent yet.”

you merely sigh.

“the place’s gonna be filled with people who hate my guts, you really think i’m going? minjeong probably only sent this to piss me off.”

chaewon frowns, “you don’t seem pissed off, just sad. honey, you have to let me know if they’re bothering you, like actually. it’s not your fault, well– maybe it is, but you’re suffering too. it isn’t nice for them to do this to you.” you shrug in response. you deserve it. you deserve every stab in your heart, you deserve the tears that escape in the middle of the night.

“let’s drink tonight, okay? we’ll put on titanic or something and cry about life while eating ice cream,” chaewon offers. maybe it’s the thought of getting drunk, or titanic, or crying in your friend’s arms, but the offer is appealing and you find yourself agreeing too soon.

you can hear chaewon do a silent cheer. it makes you smile slightly and gives you enough energy to pull yourself up from the floor.

“i’ll go get the soju, just lie on the couch and relax!” you follow as your friend says and lie on the sofa you had picked out together after mao’s claws had sunk into the leather, ripping it to shreds. the cat was a brat.

doesn’t this remind you of something– or someone? the voice in your head quips. you groan, why couldn’t your head shut up sometimes? your heart drops as you recall the conversation between your parents when you had told them you broke things off with yizhuo. you remember your mother’s expression; disappointed and upset, a stark contrast to when you had told her that you finally found someone. the proud look on your father’s when you introduced yizhuo to them, god, why the fuck was yizhuo such an amazing girlfriend?

you caused this. you want to scream ‘no’. you’re the one who dumped yizhuo. who are you to be upset over thi–

“y/n? hey, stop thinking about it,” chaewon pouts, “don’t make yourself even more sad!” you blink back into reality and at the sight of chaewon puffing her cheeks out, holding two bottles of soju and a large bowl of popcorn, make you want to coo at the girl. you push the thoughts of yizhuo to the back of your head as soon as the opening to titanic appears on the screen.

you two laugh sometimes, mostly chaewon, but it’s quiet throughout the movie and you can’t tell whether you’d rather have chaewon’s comments about how cute the actors are or the silence that allows you to delve deeper into your thoughts. you take a sip whenever chaewon mentions how in love jack and rose are.

when you blink, it’s already at the part where jack allows rose to get onto the wooden door, while he stays in the freezing water. chaewon throws popcorn at the tv, apparently already drunk, screaming at rose to quote, “fucking move her ass,” for jack to get on. you take a large gulp of soju in the midst of chaewon’s sniffles.

“y/n…i can’t believe it… she just let jack die!” chaewon cries out, “the love of her life, she just let him go! how could she just let him die?!” you nod, trying to drink the already empty bottle of soju.

when you stand up, the whole room swirls and you stumble back onto the couch. “don’t let her go, y/n!” you jump at the close proximity of chaewon’s voice, “don’t let the love of your life go!”

you hum in agreement and scream, “i won’t let her go!” determined, you pick up your phone and the selfie of you and yizhuo greets her. you miss her, don’t you? of course not. you don’t miss her at all. change your homescreen then. you wouldn’t.

you roll your eyes and enter kakaotalk.

y/n [11.38pm]:

i kiss you

i miss you*

read [11.39pm]

“i did it, chaewon!” you exclaim, “i didn’t let her go!”

drunk you is apparently an idiot, since we all know, if a ‘i love you’ can’t solve a crack, obviously a ‘i miss you’ wouldn’t be able to solve an earthquake.

i miss you too. i miss you so much it hurts. but how could you say that, when you’re the one that left me first? yizhuo doesn’t cry as much anymore. she doesn’t sob into her pillow in the middle of the night anymore. the couple posts that appear on her instagram feed doesn’t make tears well up in her eyes anymore.

it still hurts. hurts as much as it did before. and yizhuo might just have to live with that pain everyday. the misspelt word makes her heart throb, in affection and pain, because she could imagine your voice in her head. are you hurting as much as she is? it doesn’t make the stabbing pain in her chest any better to know that the one she loves is suffering.

yizhuo stares at the glaring light from her phone. i miss you. really y/n? she wants to scoff. you were probably drunk out of your mind and sent that text on a whim. or maybe it was meant for another girl. the thought makes yizhuo want to cry.

is there someone else you call ‘baby' now?

fuck, you think, oh fuck. the read blaring on your phone, as if mocking you.

“shit,” chaewon groans, holding her head, “what happened last night? did we accidentally kill someone?” you wish you did. you take a deep breath, and scream. if the neighbours show up the next moment, it’s totally because of the night before, and not your scream at 8 in the morning.

you calm down. eventually. you calm down after chaewon grabs your shoulders and wiggles you back and forth, yelling for you to get your shit together. it only worsens the raging headache the both of you have. if rent wasn’t so high nowadays, you would have immediately fled and lived alone. kim chaewon with a hangover was not a good sight.

“whatever! you drunk texted your ex! whatever! hashtag yolo right— ah fuck, the room is spinning,” chaewon shrieks, “ugh, why did we drink so much?! but! your life isn’t over! so what if you texted her? it’s okay, we stay delusional and pretend things never happened!”

despite the wacky talk chaewon gives, it actually helps. texting yizhuo, while drunk, was a mistake. you nod hastily, “i get what you’re saying, but please let me go.”

chaewon loosens her grip, pursed lips as she huffs, “the most badass thing you can do now is go to the wedding.”

your eyes widen, “what the hell? kim chaewon, are you crazy? no, you’re insane.”

your roommate only grins lazily, “it came with a plus one invite, right? i’ll go with you. it’ll be okay! and don’t you wanna see your friends again?”

“i do, but most of them hate my guts,” you wince, recalling the angry messages left by aeri and minjeong, none from jimin, that probably speaks for itself what she thought of you, “they were yizhuo’s friends first, and mine second. when it comes to things like this, they would, rightfully so, take yizhuo’s side.”

chaewon whistles, “yeah it’s not looking too good for you right now.”

you flop onto the couch, sighing, “if i see yizhuo, i’ll freeze up and make a fool of myself.” your hands fly to rub at your eyes, groaning miserably, “i guess i’m not over her.”

chaewon slides into the space next to you, scoffing, “you think? having her number saved and pinned is crazy and the last time we talked before this, you were in love with her. what happened?”

your heart constricts painfully. you never spoke about your breakup to anyone, only asking chaewon if she still needed someone to split rent with. the moment you had uttered those words, you had left the shared apartment with yizhuo, not turning back to watch the love of your life collapse.

“i…” your throat dries up, “i was in love with her, i guess i still am. i don’t doubt that she felt the same for me, but maybe not anymore. our relationship was the best thing to ever happen to me. the happiest years of my life were when i was with yizhuo. she made me feel alive.”

tears prick at your eyes involuntarily. chaewon’s gaze is full of pity and comfort. sympathy. no one else gave you that.

“she wanted to get married, chaewon,” you whisper, “she was ready for marriage. i wasn’t.”

“oh.”

“i saw her looking at engagement rings one day and god, it was like, how have i never noticed before? she always shows me videos of weddings and how she would want her wedding to be like, but i never stopped to think whether i wanted marriage. i didn’t know what i would say if yizhuo just proposed. would it have hurt less for her if i said no rather than breaking up with her?”

chaewon presses a comforting hand to your shoulder, sighing, “i’m sorry, i literally see two of you right now but i’ll try to articulate this as best as i can.” her words draw out a hollow laugh from you. “you just weren’t ready yet, and yeah, you should have communicated that to her before jumping in to break up, but have you ever thought that you weren’t ready because you didn’t love her enough?”

you swallow, tears flowing down your cheeks freely, “n-no, i love her. she’s my favourite person. i love her so much, too much even. but getting married? that’s a lifelong commitment. i just didn’t know if she was sure that she really wanted to spend the rest of her life with… me. she has her whole life figured out. she’s a rich model who could have anyone else. we were childhood friends first, before girlfriends. and now she’s certain that she wants to marry me? what if there’s someone better for her out there? she’s only been chained to me because we got together so young. i just… had to let her go.”

“commitment issues,” chaewon states, “you have severe commitment issues.”

“i guess so,” you let out a watery laugh. your roommate chuckles, “you want her back?”

“yeah, i’m desperate.”

“let’s go to the wedding.”

you send a small smile to chaewon, “thanks, roomie.”

“i saw the invite by the way, and damn, are your friends rich? don’t get me wrong, i’m going as your moral support but the free buffet too—”

“i’m literally going to strangle you.”

yizhuo twirls the pen in her hand, watching it glide across her fingers and abruptly landing on the wooden table with a thud. she couldn’t stand seeing all the wedding preparations and chose to hide in jimin’s study. the door creaks open, a figure stands by the doorway.

“hello jimin unnie, aren’t you meant to be looking over the finishing touches of your wedding?” yizhuo asks, her smile dimming as she thinks about marriage. jimin frowns, “minjeong’s doing that. she told me to come check up on you.”

“me?”

“i know how you feel about weddings. we all do,” jimin says bluntly. yizhuo’s lips fall into a thin line. of course her friends were aware. they helped pick out the ring for god’s sake. the weight of a velvet box lying in her bedside table haunts her dreams.

yizhuo stands up from her desk, inching closer to jimin, a faux smile on her face, “you don’t have to worry about me. it’s your special day after all.”

“not yet, but let me worry about my friend for a while more before i get married,” jimin mutters, “minjeong sent an invite to y/n.” yizhuo’s whole body tenses up. a blurry image of you appears in her brain. she immediately shuts that down.

biting the inside of her cheek, yizhuo turns away from jimin with folded arms, “and? did she say she was coming?”

yizhuo hears jimin’s hesitance.

“just say it.”

jimin clears her throat, “she’s coming with a plus one.”

a distant thought forms. a plus one. your new girlfriend? did you find someone else? were you coming to the wedding to flaunt your new lover? yizhuo wasn’t dumb, she knew that her friends disliked you, heavily. minjeong most definitely sent out that invitation with disgust. jimin told her what minjeong had said to you. aeri had barely brushed it off, saying you weren’t worth her time scolding, despite the chain of messages she sent. she knew that you were aware they hated you. why would you come to the wedding?

“i-i’m not sure what’s their relationship, but her name is kim chaewon and oh my god, minjeong’s gonna kill me, y/n requested for a shared hotel room,” jimin utters out nervously. yizhuo’s eyes turn into slits. a shared hotel room?

“i see,” yizhuo says indifferently, contrasting the feelings bubbling inside her, “that’s good to know.”

jimin places a hand on yizhuo’s shoulder, “hey, it could all mean nothing, i don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“does it matter when i’m already like this?” yizhuo retorts back.

“i hope you don’t do anything stupid. before everything, you’re still my friend. if y/n showing up makes you uncomfortable, i’ll tell her she’s not invited,” jimin says softly, “minjeong will understand. you come first.”

“it’s your wedding, jimin. i won’t be a burden to you guys. it’s your day,” yizhuo mirrors jimin’s frown.

jimin’s shoulders slack.

“it’s not about that,” the older girl retorts, exasperated.

“what is it about then?”

“i don’t think minjeong will stay neutral and be calm when she sees y/n,” jimin groans, “she’ll probably pick a fight with her and i don’t want my wife to be stressed and angry on her wedding day.”

yizhuo can’t help teasing jimin, “wife, huh?”

jimin smirks, “yes, wife. you know last week, minjeong called me—”

“oh kay! i think you should go!” yizhuo yells, saving herself from the details of her friends’ intimate lives. jimin cackles maniacally as she leaves the study. yizhuo sighs and leans her head against the wooden door. jimin’s footsteps can be heard as she walks downstairs, along with the voices of her friends. they’re all scattered and anxious, she hears the distant shouting of minjeong and aeri. despite the noise around her, yizhuo feels somewhat at peace. for now. she doesn’t know what she’s going to do the moment you come to the wedding.

because despite what everyone else says, yizhuo cannot move on. you were literally half of her life and more. when you had uttered those words of devastation, it was like the world had ended. a terrible nightmare that tortured yizhuo every single day. was she too overbearing? sometimes— well, last time, you had mentioned that she was a very affectionate and clingy girlfriend. was that the sole reason? yizhuo frowns. no, that couldn’t be. you were equally as physically needy as her.

maybe you had found someone new? the plus one that was coming? that didn’t seem plausible either. if you were cheating, yizhuo would most definitely know and you abhorred cheaters anyway.

as she wrecked her mind for reasons, a common past time she developed after you had left, the constant rewinding of the conversation had been engraved in her brain eternally.

(yizhuo had just gotten off work, a smile on her face as she entered the house, heels clacking against the floor. the thought of you waiting at home impatiently for her only brought her smile to widen. maybe you would run up to her and embrace her warmly, complaining about how long she took. yet, neither of those happened and she’s left staring at you, hunched over, at the dining table, a suitcase packed by your side.

“what are you doing?” she had asked curiously. were you going on a trip? begrudgingly, you had gotten up, a sombre look on your face as you whispered, “yizhuo…”

that ticked yizhuo off. you never called her yizhuo. it was always baby, honey, sweetheart. but never yizhuo. it sounded so foreign and cold coming from your lips.

“what’s wrong? is everything okay?” she asked.

your face contorts into one of utter desperation and heartbreak, “i think we should break up.”

yizhuo’s mind had gone blank. she had never anticipated hearing those words from you. break up? that wasn’t in her future with you. her heart clenched uncomfortably against her ribcage and her throat constricted, to the point she couldn’t mutter a single word.

taking advantage of her silence, you run your fingers through your hair, the hair that yizhuo would so lovingly comb through every night as she whispered words of devotion into your ear, “i want to break up.”

“no.” is the only thing yizhuo can say. wide-eyed and stupefied, “no.”

you look as stunned as she is, yet the stark difference between the two of you, are the tears that threaten to tip over at every passing second in your eyes.

“yizhuo,” you pleaded, “i’m sorry. i can’t.”

“why are you doing this?” she croaked out, demanding an answer. the weight of the velvet box in her purse felt like it was dragging her down to the darkest pits of hell. she couldn’t imagine something like this ever happening. you were meant to be her happily ever after.

“i—”

yizhuo couldn’t stand it anymore. “tell me why you want to break up!” she yelled, the confusion and fatigue of her body overwhelming everything.

“i… please… don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“you don’t love me anymore? you found someone else?” yizhuo accused. of course, none of these were the true reasons. you couldn’t even look at yizhuo in the eye before murmuring an apology again and grasping the suitcase in your hand.

“i love you,” you had whispered at the door, “i’m sorry.”

yizhuo doesn’t even respond. pure shock overtaking her as she watched you leave. the moment the door had closed, sobs took over yizhuo as she collapsed on the floor, heartbroken and devastated at losing the love of her life.

if you truly loved her, you wouldn’t have left so easily.)

that statement plagues yizhuo’s mind for the next few years. it replays in her head repeatedly, like a broken mantra. she knows that it’s unhealthy; to be thinking of you every night before she succumbs to a dreamless sleep. yet, sometimes, yizhuo prays that she might be dreaming, and when she wakes up, you would be right by her side. jimin thinks she should get a therapist. but yizhuo doesn’t want to get over you. she fears that you might just become a hazy memory, lost in anger and grief. she doesn’t want that to happen. because despite everything, the pain you have caused her, she still loves you.

it’s strange, the way love works. yizhuo hates you for doing this to her; ruining her for anyone else because if they even bore a similar trait to you, she would just break down. like the blind date aeri had set her up on long ago. fresh out of the breakup, and with extreme bribery and convincing, yizhuo had met shen xiaoting, one of aeri’s friends, over dinner. aeri had said that maybe yizhuo needed someone closer to her culture, and with the homesickness she felt constantly, the lack of comforting words that you provided, yizhuo agreed.

that date was the whole reason aeri stopped asking yizhuo to go on blind dates, for when xiaoting had mentioned that she liked cats, yizhuo had started bawling, the memory of you playing with your own pet cursing her mind.

it was embarrassing to say the least, and even more embarrassing to explain to xiaoting that it wasn’t her fault. the poor girl had thought yizhuo had something against cats. aeri apologised endlessly as yizhuo cried, with an awkward xiaoting patting her shoulder. at least they became friends.

maybe, with the support of her friends, yizhuo would be able to stand the sight of you at the wedding. it would be totally fine! and if she sees you with someone new, maybe, just maybe, it would give her the motivation to finally get over you.

honestly, screw everything. you literally hate chaewon right now. thankfully, jimin and minjeong had provided a one night stay at the hotel. your apartment (and mao) was being taken care of by sakura, one of chaewon’s friends. there was apparently a party before the actual day. you assumed they would just want a shared bachelorette party. however, your self-proclaimed wingman was cozying up to one of the guests. by her straight posture and gentle expression, she was probably nakamura kazuha from high school. yizhuo was friends with her, you remember.

you couldn’t believe that all those words of encouragement had flown out the window the moment chaewon locked eyes with the ‘love of her life’. you roll your eyes, already annoyed with your friend. somehow, you still hadn’t spotted yizhuo amongst the crowd.

most of them, you didn’t recognise. some, from high school and college. the rest, probably family members. maybe some faces stood out, like shin ryujin from history class or jang wonyoung, the valedictorian. but mostly, unrecognisable. from the various mops of hair in the crowd, you spot uchinaga aeri’s infamous smirk. you wonder where the rest of the group are.

you sigh, taking a lonely sip of the champagne they provided. at least it was good.

chaewon’s obnoxious laughter fills the area. it’s loud and irritating, or maybe you’re just easily annoyed right now. kazuha just stares at her, all confused. it’s a little funny.

“y/n.” a steely voice rings out from the crowd. you whip your head, heart racing at the familiar but dreadful tone.

“oh,” you whisper, horror-stricken. you weren’t prepared to meet them now!

the older girl merely stares at you, before you bow your head hesitantly, “congratulations on your marriage.”

jimin visibly loosened up, her eyes twinkling and shining with adoration, “thank you.” perhaps out of all of yizhuo’s friends, jimin was the one who hated you the least. she didn’t bother scolding you or cursing you out, only choosing to glare at you.

“i think we should talk,” she finally says after a moment of silence. you wholeheartedly agree with her. if you were meant to see yizhuo tomorrow, you definitely needed another friend that wasn’t chaewon.

she brings you out of the function room, the starry night sky being the only company outside. jimin takes a long gulp of her champagne.

“why’d you really break up with yizhuo?”

the patiently and dedicated stitches of a sewed wound are ripped apart, directly exposing your bleeding heart and emotions. everything comes falling apart the moment she asks. you can only stare at her.

“i… i made a mistake,” you shake your head, “i wasn’t ready.”

jimin, patient as always, hums, urging you to continue.

“she wanted to get married. i didn’t,” you say, with grief and regret lacing your every word, because everything would be fine if you had just talked to yizhuo.

“we helped her pick out the ring,” jimin adds. you only feel more guilty.

“i can’t give her the life she wants, unnie,” the endearing term of intimacy slips out, a cry filled with desperation, “she deserves the world and i can’t give her that.”

“you were her world. it’s that simple. she only ever wanted you.”

hurt gnaws at your heart, it’s palpitating with raw stabs that echo of your heartbreak.

“i don’t deserve her,” you sigh, “i had to let her go. i couldn’t bear to see the look on her face if i refused her engagement.”

jimin nods, “i understand your fear. but i hate the fact that this could have been solved with an explanation.”

you groan, anger coursing through your veins. you were so upset and narrow-minded at the time. the only solution was to seemingly break up with yizhuo. it would spare her the everlasting pain from a rejection of her proposal.

“i know, i just couldn’t at that time.”

the older girl tries to smile. it’s akin to one of those encouraging ones she would give right before an exam or test. it sparks a shiver of nostalgia.

“jagiya, where are you— oh.”

jimin quickly straightens up, swiftly turning around to face minjeong with a grin, “hey, mindoong.”

you tense up, your fingers wrapping around the glass tightly.

“glad you could make it,” minjeong’s eyes flicker up and down your body, venom evident in her tone as she hisses, “y/n.”

nodding, you reply, “thank you for inviting me.”

the tension is overbearing; with minjeong’s glares, jimin’s beaming smile and your awkward shuffling, you couldn’t wait to retreat to the comfort of your hotel room.

“where’s your girlfriend?” minjeong suddenly asks. you stare at her, confused, “my what?”

jimin’s eyes widen as she hastily pulls minjeong aside, frantically whispering in her ear. but like the past, jimin has never been a good whisperer. you catch phrases like ‘she might not be her girlfriend’ and ‘what if yizhuo hears?’. a looming sensation brews in your stomach.

“kim chaewon? is that her name?” minjeong asks harshly, “didn’t take you to like korean girls, i thought you liked chinese girls instead.”

you’re visibly taken aback. what was minjeong saying? chaewon? your girlfriend? since when was chaewon your girlfriend?

“uh,” despite your fear of minjeong yelling at you, your words come out firmly, “chaewon isn't my girlfriend.”

minjeong falters slightly before scoffing, “yeah right. you don’t have to lie now. we all know that you left yizhuo for some other girl.”

your heart stops. what?

what was she saying?

leaving yizhuo for another girl?

“i— i would never… that’s—”

“minjeong unnie, that’s enough.”

you’ve thought of this moment forever. every single day after the break up. you’ve thought of running back into her arms, apologising endlessly for even thinking of breaking up with her. you’ve thought of how she would accept you graciously with murmurs of comfort, because that was just how she was. a gracious and generous girl who deserved the world. you’ve thought of her bright smile and gleaming eyes.

you’ve never thought of her staring at you, a dull and saddened look on her face.

“ning—”

“minjeong unnie,” she pleads, “please.”

the watery gaze must have swayed minjeong over. you would know, having fallen prey to her puppy eyes before. yizhuo slides the door open, watching intently as minjeong and jimin leave.

“good luck,” jimin whispers just before she steps away. you think you need all the luck in the world right now.

yizhuo lets out a heavy sigh once the door slides closed. she gazes at you for a second. you’re taken back to your younger days, where every day was spent just staring at yizhuo. you had proclaimed confidently that yizhuo was the most gorgeous girl on earth. you aren’t wrong. the years you spent apart from her had done her generously. it had only been two, yet, yizhuo looked more mature and sure of herself.

“did you really find someone new?” she whispers, shattering the glass of ignorance. you swallow, shaking your head, “no.”

yizhuo thinks back to the drunken message you had sent.

“was that on purpose? that text you sent,” she asks, eyes wide and afraid of your answer.

you shake your head again, “i was drunk. i’m sorry.”

“i hate you, you know that right?” yizhuo says. before, you had imagined the piercing stab of pain that came with those words. you had thought it would be the end of your life, with the girl you loved the most saying she hated you.

it’s understandable now, and inevitable.

“i know,” you whisper.

yizhuo continues to stare at you. somehow, this all feels like a fever dream, one that she’ll wake up from soon. it feels unreal to have you in front of her again.

she takes in the sight of you, memorising every detail for if you leave again.

“why’d you come then?”

there are many reasons that you can say, with varying degrees of truthfulness; to congratulate jimin and minjeong, to see your friends again, to just visit your hometown.

“i wanted to see you.” it’s the truthest thing you’ve ever said.

“you can’t,” yizhuo inhales sharply, “yo-you can’t just show up like this.”

“i know, i’m sorry.”

your head hangs lowly.

“tell me the real reason why you left.”

you had expected this.

she would want closure.

your throat constricts uncomfortably.

“i… yizhuo…”

“tell me.” it feels similar to your past.

yizhuo looks as beautiful as ever. she’s the only thing you can think of right now. her lips are moving, yet you don’t hear a single thing.

“i didn’t want marriage.”

oh.

the girl’s eyebrows furrow. her eyes turning into slits of anger as she takes in a deep breath. you know she’s about to start tearing up. maybe you should quickly explain yourself.

it’s your only chance.

“i saw you looking at engagement rings and i knew i wouldn’t be ready if you got down on one knee. you’re a model, for god’s sake. you had a prospering career, being tied down to someone like me wouldn’t bring you any benefits,” you finally say. it’s not the full reason why, but you hope yizhuo would understand even a semblance of your choice.

“i know that it’s a shitty excuse. i know that i’m a coward. but what else was i meant to do?”

yizhuo huffs.

“talked to me. you could have talked to me.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“would that stop me from breaking your heart?”

the love of your life stands before you. yet, it seems like the only words of devotion you’ll exchange is how devoted she is to hating you. yizhuo crosses her arms, frowning, “yes. i’d much rather have a minute of heartbreak than years of it. you’re such a prick.”

“yizhuo—”

“no, you don’t get to do this,” she points a finger at your chest, prodding the area where your head resides ferociously, “you can’t just come back, explain yourself with an extremely stupid reason, and expect that i would be okay with it. you sent me a drunk text, saying you missed me. how come i don’t feel anything?”

“i love you, yizhuo. i just did what i thought was right in that moment—”

the only thing you can hear is your heart shattering into pieces at the sight of tears falling down her face. yizhuo sniffles, her voice becoming shrill as she adds on, “you’re an asshole. you think you’re the only one in this relationship? you didn’t even explain yourself properly. you think you’re making the right choices for us? for me?”

you continue to stare at her blankly.

the next words come out like a gunshot, “then you don’t know me at all.”

it snaps onto your skin, leaving a scathing burn and engraving ning yizhuo’s name into your body. your insides coil up painfully. hearing yizhuo’s cries as you left years ago had been torturous, but nothing beats her breaking down in front of you right this instant. you’re overcome with a striking urge to pull her into your arms and whisper words of affection into her ears, promising her to never leave. the pet name leaves your mouth quicker than you can think.

“baby—”

a sharp stinging sensation sears in your right cheek. you can feel the affected area heating up, scorching hot and red. yizhuo’s handprint is evident, singed in your skin.

an onslaught of tears rises, but you’re determined to not let them fall.

“okay,” you whisper, unable to say anything else to the equally stunned yizhuo, “i’ll leave. i’m sorry.”

the girl just stands outside in the cold, her eyes bloodshot and cheeks rosy from the wind. before you go, the slight shiver that runs through her body makes you hesitate. the comfort of your jacket feels like a heavy burden now.

maybe you would get slapped again. but at least yizhuo wouldn’t be cold.

gently taking it off, you encase yizhuo in your jacket, biting your cheek (which still hurts!) to resist a smile at how it covers her small figure. she gazes at you like a deer caught in headlights. you sigh and try to move your legs, but they feel like jelly. with much difficulty, you finally make it to the door, using the frame to stabilise your wobbly walking.

when you turn back, yizhuo isn’t staring at you, but she’s staring at the night sky, more specifically, the moon. you take one last look at her. the weight on your shoulders is gone now. and all that is left is a longing feeling to have yizhuo back in your arms again. but maybe, you could live with that.

sliding the door open, you go back into the function room. the crowd had dispersed, leaving just a few people chatting around. you spot jimin and minjeong talking while drinking. aeri’s at the bar, engaged in a conversation with a waitress. chaewon, god bless her, is relatively nearby, while kazuha is nowhere to be found.

“chaewon,” you breathe out, relieved. she turns to you, startled, “oh damn, what happened to your face? you look a little…”

“i know,” you laugh dryly, “i think it’s time for us to leave and go to sleep now.”

chaewon doesn’t argue and instead nods, her eyes drawn to the reddening mark across your cheek. even in the dark light, she could still notice the imprints of someone’s fingers.

“she slapped you?” she asks while you head towards the elevator.

“yeah,” you scratch the back of your neck, “we kind of… argued.”

chaewon laughs heartily at your misfortune. you’re glad at least this brings someone joy. maybe minjeong too. she would love to see you in pain.

“i think you should get some rest buddy,” she pats your back. you nod, feeling as if sleep was just an arm’s reach away.

the conversation with yizhuo had drained you significantly, both mentally and physically. and maybe you should put some ointment on the red area too. you might wake up with a bruise or something tomorrow.

the urge to flop into bed is too strong as chaewon slides the keycard into the slot. the door opens, revealing a luxurious hotel suite with a king-sized bed. you remember requesting for a shared room. it was to mainly prevent yourself from doing anything reckless when drunk. you’d have chaewon to keep you grounded.

“did you get kazuha’s number?” you ask as chaewon throws her face cleanser at you. the girl giggles, “yeah. she’s so cute.”

you subtly cringe at the lovestruck look in her eyes.

groaning, you head into the bathroom. your eyes widen as you prod at your cheek, shocked that yizhuo landed such a heavy hit. damn, has she been going to the gym lately? the yizhuo back then barely had any strength to resist your tickles. there wasn’t any surging hot anger left from yizhuo slapping you, just a dull and yearning hope for her. maybe you should calm yourself down by taking a cold shower.

after dowsing yourself with water, you padded out of the bathroom, only to discover that chaewon wasn’t hunched over her luggage anymore.

you check your phone.

chaewon [10.27pm]:

zuha texted me, staying w her for the night

there’s ointment on the bedside table

for ur stupid face

bye :p

wow. chaewon had managed to do that within a day. staying at a girl’s hotel room? you whistle lowly. maybe she was onto something. but with her departure, the hotel room feels too quiet now. only the breezing and fluttering sounds of the airconditioning accompanying your thoughts of self-loathing. collapsing onto the bed, you reach out for the ointment.

just as you unscrew the cap, the doorbell rings. you don’t recall ever ordering room service. maybe it was chaewon and she forgot something?

you turn the door knob, not bothering to check who it was.

“chaewon—”

ning yizhuo stands before you, glassy eyes and a look of desperation that you’re familiar with.

“oh.”

she shuffles awkwardly, gesturing at your cheek, “are—is it okay? does it hurt?”

gulping, you shake your head.

“can we talk?” she asks, in the quietest voice ever, her words coming out shaky and breathless.

you open the door wider.

yizhuo mutters a soft, “thank you,” as she enters the room. you quickly send a text to chaewon telling her not to come back.

“did you put any cream on it?” she asks.

“no, not yet. i was just about to,” you reply quietly. the tension from the heated argument from before had disapparented, only leaving a strained relationship behind.

“can you sit down?”

you follow her instructions dutifully, sitting right at the edge of the bed. yizhuo lifts the ointment up, squeezing a bit on her finger before gently rubbing it into your cheek. it hurts, but the softness of her touch heals the area.

wincing as she applies more pressure, you can only stare at the girl.

“i’m sorry,” she whispers.

“it’s okay.”

you want to pull her into your arms.

you want her to lean onto you.

you want the feeling of her skin against yours.

“i was really hurt.”

“i know.”

yizhuo sighs, her hands dropping.

“i can’t believe you left me so easily.”

your chest tightens at the devastated tone in her voice. it wasn’t easy, you want to say. but it doesn’t feel right to defend yourself now.

“i thought it was the right thing to do.”

yizhuo lifts her head up, “why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to get married?”

“i don’t know,” it comes out in a hushed murmur, “i didn’t want to tie you down. you had a lot more things to accomplish.”

“i’d rather have you and nothing than losing you and having everything.”

the confession goes unsaid. because you’re her everything.

“i’m sorry. you just had your whole life in front of you and i was in the back. i… i didn’t fit into your life.”

the girl takes everything in. you were just so afraid then. scared that once you said yes to her proposal, yizhuo might realise that you weren’t the one for her. you’d rather be away from her, than be with her and make her unhappy. you didn’t want to live a miserable life where you hated each other.

“you don’t get to make that choice for me.”

“i know, yizhuo.”

yizhuo’s eyes are brimming with tears. her raven hair covering her face partially, but you can feel the pain radiating off her.

“you know that i would have been happy just being with you?”

“i know.”

“god, you still left like it was the easiest decision of your life.”

no it wasn’t, you again want to protest.

“you know that even in another life, i would choose to just have you by my side, even if i lose everything else? don’t you understand the extent of my love for you?”

it’s so surreal— the way yizhuo is practically begging for you to realise that leaving her was the worst possible choice for you to make.

“i love you too much.”

“then why’d you leave?” she asks.

through tears, you shakily breathe out, “because i love you too much.”

the lack of past tense doesn’t bother you, nor does it bother yizhuo. it’s a given that you’re still madly in love with the girl, and vice versa. it only leaves the question of what will happen now. yizhuo doesn’t say much afterwards. it’s the truth. you love her too much that you couldn’t bear to see her suffer because of you.

“i was so ready to marry you, i bought a ring,” yizhuo mutters, shedding tears. her sniffles aren’t concealed by the low humming of the air conditioning. it feels too real.

“forgive me, please,” you say.

“i can’t.”

the hotel room goes quiet.

“that’s okay,” it’s hard to say. you want to protest against everything, beg yizhuo to take you back and you could live your happily ever after with her.

it doesn’t happen. you don’t fall to your knees and plead.

you only stare at yizhuo in a mix of fear and longing affection. it pains you to see her so broken, and it only drives the knife further into your heart to know you’re the reason why.

“i’m so tired, y/n.”

you nod, feeling the fatigue seep in.

“me too.”

“can i sleep here tonight?” yizhuo asks softly.

you nod. there were still things to talk about, but you think you’ve done a decent job so far. pulling the covers over your bodies as yizhuo slides into the bed, you relish in the warmth and comfort of having her beside you again.

she turns her head to look at you, uncertainty filling her voice, “let’s talk more in the morning. i’m tired now.”

you agree with her wholeheartedly, inching closer to fit against her back.

as yizhuo’s eyelids flutter shut, you caress her skin tenderly. your index finger writes against her back, strokes lining her skin.

我爱你.

i love you. it’s one of the many phrases you’ve picked up throughout the years of being with the girl. she only taught you silly words and swears, but yizhuo had insisted you learn how to say and write those very words.

it’s fitting, because it’s all you ever feel for her.

because of yizhuo, you’ve had the opportunity to experience having a soulmate for almost your whole life. because of yizhuo, there’s no lingering doubt of being unlovable. because of yizhuo, you get to spend your days filled with happiness.

because of yizhuo, you understand what love is.

you just hope she understands you too.

[gingersxng]

Keep Quiet

Pairing: f!reader x Yunho

Notes: sub!reader, dom!yunho, nipple play, light pain, teasing, fingering, kissing, finger sucking, cum eating, pet name (doll), dirty talk, overstimulation, unprotected sex (don’t), Yunho has a big dick. maybe forgot something!

Words: 668

okay listen,

you’re in Yunhos room putting some clothes on after the refreshing shower you just took. you’re sitting on the floor in just your panties and searching through your jewellery box for something nice to wear.

you suddenly feel a pair of cold hands groping your breasts making you jump. you look up and meet the brown glittering eyes of your boyfriend, he gives you a smile.

you’re about to say something but instead of words a small moan leaves your lips. Yunho’s rolling your nipples in between his fingers slow and sensual, your back arches. he’s movements gets faster and more painful which makes it harder for you to keep quiet. giving you kisses along your neck Yunho stops at your ear and shushes you since the other members are home too.

when he’s been torturing you for a while stimulating your now red and sore nipples, he slowly drags his large palms down your stomach and stops when he reaches your pussy. you watch in pain biting your lip how his hand is resting on your cunt. Yunho gives you a kiss on your head and he stays in that position while his hand slowly begins to pull your panties to the side revealing your soaked swollen pussy. low hums vibrates on top of your head coming from Yunho as he draws small circles on your clit.

he slides his two fingers through your folds a couple of times making your stomach flex every time he repeats it. you’re resting your back against Yunhos chest and breathing heavy trying your best to hold yourself together but it was damn hard when you were being touched by the hottest man you’d ever laid eyes on.

“so good for me doll”

he finally slides his long pretty fingers into your tight hole and leaves his thumb on your clit putting pressure on it while he curve his others hitting your g spot. a high pitched moan flies out and he’s fast to cover your mouth with his other hand.

“shhh, don’t want anyone to hear right”

“your tight little pussy taking my fingers so well”

you’re sweating down your back and between your tits, something your busy boyfriend loved to see. he has you bucking up against his fingers and he adds a third since you’re taking him so well and good girls deserves the best.

Yunho speeds up his thrusts and removes his hand from your mouth and replaces it with his own mouth, your tongues fighting each other. the empty hand takes a hold of a nipple and flicking it in a matching pace with his fingers that fucks you.

Yunhos actions makes your legs shake and you almost scream into his mouth, a familiar feeling grows in your abdomen and you’re about to cum. when he sees you’re close he stops. he’s pulling out his soaked fingers and puts them on your lips, he hooks his fingers on your bottom teeth and you whine.

you suck on his digits until they’re cleaned up and squeezes your shoulders leaning in to your ear.

“what a good tiny girl you’ve been and only for me huh?” you moan in response.

he’s once again back to placing wet sloppy kisses on your shoulders while he occupies both your nipples with his magic fingers. pinching them and tugging on them is getting you wetter and wetter and you’ll cum any second now if he continues. you squirm in his arms as you feel how your cum is seeping out your pussy and onto the red rug beneath you.

while you’re catching your breath you hear Yunho unbuckle his belt and stands up.

“that was just the warm up doll”

he then takes a hold of you and lifts you up and placing you on all fours on his bed. he places his leaking cock against your entrance, you shiver at the overstimulation that sneaks up on you as he enters.

“I’ll go harder with every noise you make”

[benedictscanvas]

pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes. 

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

[waywardstation]

How many wips do you have, boss? Either art or writing or both

Tons. Tons and tons and tons!!!! I blame my hand issues from the last year and a half for starting so many canvases that I couldn’t finish.

I have WIP Wednesday tomorrow for fics, so I suppose I’ll share one of my art WIPs ^^ (and its accompanying concept cause it’s been nagging at me a lot again lately haha)

KYUREM INGO

This is really a big Nothing concept that’s been nagging at me since last year — I’ve seen so many cool interpretations from the submas fandom about which unovan dragon matches which twin. Reshiram and Zekrom, Ingo and Emmet — but my favorite out of the trio is Kyurem!!! And I am very very biased towards Warden Ingo, so I sort of just connected the two of them together when I saw a lot of dragon/twin connection content.

Warden Ingo is an empty husk of who he once was ever since he was separated from his life, and from Emmet. Drayden’s legend of Kyurem implies Kyurem is the husk of what was left after Reshiram and Zekrom separated.

Hisui is not Ingo’s world; he does not belong there. Another legend from the games says that Kyurem is an alien to this world, having landed from the sky and come somewhere unknown.

Warden Ingo’s clothing is damaged, an extension of himself. Kyurem’s asymmetry with its shorter right side visualizes damage.

Ingo’s memories and who he was as a person leaked out of his mind, but he’s trying his best to regain them. Kyurem’s power is constantly leaking out of its body and it makes efforts to hold it in with ice.

ICE. this one is headcanon-y but I associate Warden Ingo with ice and the cold, probably because of the Pearl clan and its location in the Icelands.

Again, it’s a nothing concept. It’s not an AU because I wouldn’t know what to do with it and I’m not really inclined to. It’s just nothing — it’s a concept in my mind that just floats there because I heavily associate the two with each other as parallels and think about it a lot. And it’s something I have fun drawing just for fun. I even have much rougher WIPs of different designs just mashing Kyurem and Warden Ingo together for fun too, I just felt this one was the most presentable haha.

TLDR: So many WIPs. SO MANY WIPS!!! This concept alone has a ton of scribbles and thoughts that just aren’t really prevalent at all but maybe I’ll share more someday haha.

[bigboysfalldeep]

the rookie's rite of passage

Declan loved his new job as a police officer. Ever since he’d stepped foot into the academy, every push-up, every test, every drill had been worth it to finally wear that uniform. The navy blue sat perfectly on him, sharp and pressed, his badge gleaming, and his belt sitting snug around his hips. The hours were long, the expectations high, but it didn’t matter—he’d earned his place here, and he belonged.

For two months now, he’d been partnered with Sergeant Brooks, an older officer in his mid-forties with short-cropped graying hair and a sturdy, broad frame. Brooks was respected, one of those men who carried authority with him effortlessly. Everyone in the department said he was the kind of partner a rookie could learn from, someone who knew the ins and outs of the job beyond any textbook or academy lesson.

The two of them made an odd pair, Brooks heavy-footed and gruff, Declan lean and bright-eyed. Yet, they worked well together—Brooks providing the steady guidance and Declan always eager to absorb the advice. Today, their last shift of the week, Declan couldn’t help but feel satisfied. He was getting the hang of it—running plates, responding to calls, talking to the public. He was finding his rhythm.

“Almost done, rookie,” Brooks said as they sat in their patrol car, cruising down an empty stretch of road outside town. The late afternoon sun painted the horizon in gold and orange, and Declan felt that calm that came after a good day’s work.

“Yeah,” Declan said, glancing over at his sergeant. “It’s been a good week, hasn’t it?”

Brooks nodded, lips curling into a faint grin. “Not bad at all. You’re starting to get it. There’s only so much the academy can teach you, though. The real lessons—the real training—happens out here.”

Declan sat a little straighter at that. He liked when Brooks complimented him. “I appreciate that, sir.”

“Good man,” Brooks said. Then, as if considering something, he slowed the patrol car down and turned off onto an old, abandoned parking lot. The cracked asphalt stretched out before them, surrounded by a scattering of trees. It looked like a forgotten place, far enough from town that it felt isolated.

Declan frowned curiously. “Something wrong, sir?”

“Nah,” Brooks said, parking the car and shutting off the engine. He turned to Declan with that same faint grin. “I’m going to show you how I do field sobriety tests.”

Declan blinked. “Field sobriety tests?”

“Yeah,” Brooks said, unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car. “Come on. It’s a little trick of the trade. Maybe you’ll pick up something they didn’t show you at the academy. Besides, it's something we old guys show you rookies, consider it, a rite of passage."

Declan’s curiosity got the better of him. He climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him, and followed Brooks to the center of the lot. The sun was sinking lower now, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. A gentle breeze rolled by, rustling the trees, but otherwise, it was eerily quiet.

Brooks pulled a pen from his pocket and held it up for Declan to see. It looked ordinary enough until Brooks twisted it, and the tip lit up with a bright, pretty light. It was a vivid, almost hypnotic color—soft and warm. Declan stared at it a second longer than he meant to.

Brooks chuckled softly. “Special pen. Makes it easier for the subject to focus. You’ve seen this test before, right?”

Declan nodded. “Yes, sir. I know how to conduct it. Hold the pen twelve to fifteen inches from their nose, have them follow it with their eyes while keeping their head still.”

“That’s the basics,” Brooks said, holding the pen up. “But there’s a bit of an edge to it if you know how to do it right.”

Declan tilted his head, intrigued. “Okay, sir.”

Brooks gestured for him to stand still. “I’ll demonstrate. Just follow the light with your eyes. Keep your head still, all right?”

Declan nodded again. “Got it.”

The light flickered on, that same captivating glow drawing Declan’s gaze. Brooks began to move the pen slowly from side to side, the rhythm steady, smooth. At first, it was simple—Declan kept his head still, his eyes tracking the pen as instructed. But something about it felt different, strange.

Brooks’ voice came softly, low and even. “That’s good, rookie. Just follow the light. Let your eyes track the motion. Don’t think about anything else. Just the light.”

Declan felt himself relaxing, his shoulders loosening as he obeyed. His focus narrowed.

“Nice and easy,” Brooks said, the pen moving in the same slow pattern. “Now, as you follow the light, I want you to listen to my voice. You’re doing great. Just let it happen. All your limbs are feeling heavier now. Heavier and heavier.”

Declan’s brows knit faintly, but he didn’t break focus. The words were soft, soothing, weaving through his thoughts.

He didn’t notice it at first—the tingling sensation that started at the base of his spine and worked its way up through his body. It felt good, warm and safe, like slipping under a blanket on a cold night.

“Just keep following the light,” Brooks murmured. “Your arms and legs are so heavy now. It’s easier to let go. To just listen to my voice. That’s all you need to do. Nothing else matters.”

Declan swayed slightly, but he didn’t notice. The pen was so pretty, and Brooks’ voice so calm.

“Okay, sir,” Declan mumbled, his words sluggish.

Brooks smiled faintly, though Declan didn’t see it. The rookie’s movements had grown slower, his eyes glassy but still tracking the pen obediently.

“That’s right,” Brooks said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Just follow the light. Don’t fight it. Don’t think. Let everything else slip away.”

Declan’s eyelids fluttered as he swayed more noticeably now, his lips parting slightly.

It was always so entertaining to watch. Brooks had done this before, of course—tested his little tricks on a handful of rookies over the years. Some resisted more than others, but in the end, it was always the same. They all sank under eventually.

And Declan? Declan was particularly responsive.

“You’re doing great, rookie,” Brooks said, still moving the light in slow, mesmerizing arcs. “Your body is so heavy now. So tired. But it feels good, doesn’t it? To let go. To relax completely. Just listening to me. Following the light.”

Declan swayed again, his breathing slower now. “Yeah... feels good,” he whispered.

Brooks chuckled softly. “That’s a good boy. You’re almost there. Just a little further.”

He slowed the movement of the pen until it hovered directly in front of Declan’s face, the glowing light reflecting in his wide, unfocused eyes.

“Now, rookie,” Brooks said softly, stepping closer. His free hand came up behind Declan, ready to catch him. “I want you to sleep.”

With that, Brooks tapped Declan’s forehead gently.

Declan’s body went limp immediately, his head falling forward as Brooks braced him easily with one arm. Brooks guided him down slowly, holding him steady as Declan’s weight sagged completely. His breathing was deep and slow, his expression blank and peaceful.

“Good boy,” Brooks murmured, his voice full of satisfaction. His hand came up to caress Declan’s cheek possessively, his thumb brushing over the soft skin. “You’re such a natural. I knew you’d take to this well.”

Declan’s lips moved faintly, as if murmuring something inaudible. Brooks tilted his head, smirking.

“You’re already repeating my words, aren’t you?” Brooks said softly. “You can’t help it. You’re so far under now. So deep.”

The real training could begin.

Brooks shifted, keeping his grip firm on Declan as he whispered into the rookie’s ear. “Now listen to me, Declan. Everything I say becomes the truth. Everything I tell you, you’ll obey without question. Do you understand?”

Declan’s lips moved again. “…Yes, sir.”

Brooks smiled.

“That’s right, rookie. Good boy.”

“Whenever you hear me say the word tingle, you will fall back into this blissful trance,” Brooks said, his voice calm and commanding, lingering just beside Declan’s ear.

Declan’s slackened form stirred slightly, lips parting to respond. “…Yes, sir,” he murmured, his voice distant, dreamlike.

Brooks smiled, satisfied. “Good. Now get up, rookie.”

He pulled Declan upright, steadying the younger man as his weight adjusted. For a moment, Declan swayed, but Brooks held him firm until he could stand on his own. The rookie’s eyes were still glazed over, unfocused, his face soft and relaxed.

Brooks stepped back just enough to take in the sight. The young officer stood there, obedient and pliant, his crisp uniform slightly disheveled. Brooks had always appreciated the look of discipline—the sharpness of the uniform, the pride in how it was worn. But on Declan? There was something more. Maybe it was the way the fabric clung just a little tighter than necessary to his lean frame, emphasizing his youth, his energy.

Brooks reached out again, letting his hand graze Declan’s cheek. Warm, soft skin met his palm, interrupted only by the faint roughness of stubble. A line of drool had slipped from the corner of Declan’s lips, and Brooks’ thumb brushed it away, his touch lingering.

“Attention, rookie. Stand tall,” Brooks commanded, his tone sharpening slightly.

Declan’s body reacted instantly, his training kicking in despite his dazed state. His spine straightened, his shoulders squared, his hands fell to his sides. He stood at full attention, chest slightly puffed out, chin raised.

Brooks smirked, circling him slowly. “Good boy. Flex those muscles for me.”

The words sank into Declan’s hazy mind like an anchor dropping into calm waters. Without hesitation, his body responded, his posture tightening further as his muscles engaged. His arms flexed subtly, his chest lifting as his pecs pushed against the tight fabric of his uniform.

Brooks stopped in front of him, his hands moving with deliberate slowness. He placed them on Declan’s shoulders first, feeling the tension beneath the layers of fabric. His grip moved downward, unzipping the rookie’s vest to give him some breathing room and better access.

“There you go,” Brooks murmured, his hands trailing over Declan’s chest. “Let’s give those muscles some room to work.”

The vest slid open, and Brooks let his hands roam. His palms pressed against Declan’s pecs, firm and defined beneath the taut fabric of his undershirt. He stroked along the curves of the muscles, his touch firm but not rough, kneading them slightly as he spoke.

“Good boy,” Brooks praised, his voice low. “You’ve been working hard, haven’t you? Feels like it.”

Declan sighed softly, his chest rising and falling under Brooks’ touch. The praise washed over him, mingling with the trance in his mind.

"Thank you, sir," he breathed deeply.

Brooks moved lower, his hands brushing over the flat plane of Declan’s abdomen, tracing the faint ridges of muscle beneath the shirt. His fingers lingered on the belt for a moment, then slid up again to feel Declan’s biceps.

“Strong arms,” Brooks said, squeezing the muscles appreciatively. “You’ve been putting in the effort. I can tell.”

Declan murmured something incomprehensible, his body leaning ever so slightly into the touch.

Brooks’ hands returned to Declan’s chest, stroking downward again—and that’s when he noticed it.

The strain in Declan’s uniform.

The fabric of his pants, usually crisp and smooth, had grown noticeably tighter at the crotch. A bulge pressed against the material, faint but unmistakable, the tension pulling the seams taut.

Brooks let his hand hover for a moment before placing it back on Declan’s abdomen, stroking idly. His smirk deepened.

“Well, well,” Brooks murmured, his voice almost teasing. “Looks like someone’s enjoying this a little more than they expected.”

Declan didn’t respond, his head tilting slightly as he let out another soft sigh.

Brooks’ hand trailed upward again, settling on the rookie’s chest once more. “That’s all right, rookie. You’re just doing as you’re told. And you’re doing so well.”

Brooks’ smirk deepened as he stepped closer, his hands firmly gripping Declan’s shoulders, steadying the younger officer as if grounding him. The rookie stood frozen in place, his breath slow and steady, his eyes unfocused but glimmering faintly in the dim light.

“You see, rookie,” Brooks began, his voice a low, velvety murmur, “this isn’t something every new recruit gets to do with me.”

He reached out, letting his hand rest possessively against Declan’s cheek, his fingers brushing through the soft stubble that framed the young man’s jaw. He tilted Declan’s head slightly upward, inspecting him as if savoring the sight.

“Just the eager ones,” Brooks continued, his tone almost mocking. “The willing ones. The ones who absorb every little word I say, who hang onto my instructions like they were born to obey.”

Declan let out a faint sigh, his lips parting slightly as he leaned instinctively into the touch. Brooks chuckled softly, his thumb tracing a deliberate line along the edge of Declan’s jaw.

“And you, rookie,” Brooks murmured, “you were so eager, weren’t you? Hanging on every word. Following every command without hesitation. It’s why you’re here now.”

Declan didn’t respond, his lips trembling faintly as if searching for the right words. Brooks didn’t let him. He moved closer, his hands sliding down from Declan’s shoulders to his chest, fingers splaying over the open vest and the taut fabric beneath it.

“You even asked for a tighter uniform, didn’t you?” Brooks teased, his grin sharp. “Trying to look sharp for me. Or maybe you were just showing off. I know what you are.”

His hand slid lower, brushing over the straining bulge in Declan’s pants. He stroked it teasingly, his fingers pressing just enough to make the tension more noticeable.

Declan shuddered at the touch, his breath hitching.

“That’s right,” Brooks said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know exactly what you are. And now, rookie, you’re where you’re meant to be. Obeying your sergeant. Doing everything I say.”

His hand lingered, stroking the bulge again, his other hand returning to cup Declan’s cheek. The rookie’s face was warm beneath his palm, flushed and pliant, his body practically melting under the weight of Brooks’ control.

Brooks took a deliberate step back, his boots scuffing slightly against the cracked pavement of the abandoned parking lot. He glanced down at them, then back at Declan, who remained standing tall, his uniform tight against his lean frame, his face blank and pliant.

“I think my boots need some cleaning, rookie,” Brooks said, his voice edged with authority. “Get to work.”

Declan blinked once, his glazed eyes flickering faintly with confusion before the command settled deep into his dazed mind. His body moved automatically, a puppet to Brooks’ will. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees, the impact of his weight against the ground soft against the cracked asphalt.

Brooks watched, arms crossed, his smirk widening as the rookie leaned forward, his hands resting lightly on his thighs, his head bowing toward the polished black leather of Brooks’ boots.

“That’s a good boy,” Brooks murmured, his voice low and almost affectionate. “You’re learning fast. Just like I knew you would.”

Declan’s tongue darted out hesitantly, the tip grazing the surface of the boot. The leather tasted bitter, cool, and unfamiliar, but Declan didn’t pause. He worked his way along the toe, the motion slow and methodical, his breathing steady as if this was simply another task to complete for his sergeant.

Brooks chuckled, shifting his stance slightly to give Declan better access. “That’s it, rookie. Don’t miss a spot. I want them shining.”

Declan obeyed, dragging his tongue over the contours of the boot, his focus singular and unwavering. The light in his eyes had dimmed further, his thoughts clouded by the trance Brooks had carefully crafted.

Brooks let the silence hang for a moment, broken only by the soft, wet sound of Declan’s tongue against the leather. He drank in the sight of the rookie kneeling before him, so willing, so utterly compliant.

“You look good down there,” Brooks said finally, his tone almost teasing. “On your knees. Maybe that’s where you’re meant to be.”

Declan didn’t respond, his movements smooth and precise as he continued to clean the boot. A faint sheen of saliva coated the leather now, catching the fading light of the evening.

Brooks chuckled as he watched Declan work, the rookie's tongue dragging dutifully over the smooth leather of his boots. The sight was everything Brooks had imagined: obedient, eager, and entirely his. When the rookie finally paused, looking up with that blank, pliant expression, Brooks reached out and ran his hands along Declan’s sides, slow and deliberate, petting him like a dog.

“Good boy,” Brooks said softly, his fingers pressing into the firm lines of Declan’s waist, feeling the tension and warmth beneath the tight fabric of his uniform. “You’ve done well.”

He let his hands linger for a moment before stepping back and barking the next order. “Up, rookie. On your feet.”

Declan moved immediately, his body responding with automatic precision. He rose unsteadily, still swaying slightly from the trance, his eyes half-lidded and his face flushed. Brooks caught him by the chin, tilting his face up so their eyes met.

“There you go,” Brooks murmured, his thumb brushing over Declan’s cheek. His skin was warm to the touch, flushed with heat and something deeper. “That’s a good boy. You’ve earned this, rookie. All of it.”

"Thank you sir," Declan mumbled, his body heavy, but his mind satisfied by the praise.

Declan blinked slowly, his breathing shallow, and Brooks’ grin widened. His hand trailed lower, fingers grazing the damp fabric of Declan’s shirt, lingering on the tension in his chest before moving further downward.

“Oh?” Brooks teased, his tone mockingly surprised. His fingers stopped at the waistband of Declan’s pants, pressing slightly against the taut fabric before stroking over the obvious strain. A dark patch of wetness had begun to spread at the front, soaking into the material.

“Are you wet, rookie?” Brooks asked, his voice laced with amusement. “You are, aren’t you?”

Declan’s lips parted, a faint, trembling sound escaping him as his face flushed deeper.

"Y-yes, Sir," he stuttered.

Brooks’ hand pressed more firmly against the damp spot, stroking teasingly. “You’ve been working so hard for me, haven’t you? Following every command, doing everything I’ve told you. And now look at you.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “You’re exactly where you’re meant to be. A good, obedient rookie. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir,” Declan murmured, the words barely audible but filled with a dazed certainty.

Brooks smirked, his hand withdrawing as he patted Declan’s cheek possessively. “That’s what I thought.”

Brooks stepped back, his eyes trailing over Declan’s form once more, savoring the way the tight uniform hugged the rookie’s athletic frame. His smirk deepened as he reached out, smoothing the fabric of Declan’s pants, wiping away the faint remnants of gravel before his hands deliberately lingered over the tension at the front.

“This uniform looks good on you, rookie,” Brooks said, his voice low, a hint of possessiveness threading through his tone. “Especially these tight pants.”

"Thank you, sir," Declans voice was barely above a whisper.

Declan stood still, his flushed face tilted downward, his breathing slow and steady as Brooks tugged gently at the fabric, straightening it with deliberate care.

Brooks’ hands moved back up, zipping the vest closed again, patting Declan’s chest with satisfaction. “Perfect. Now let’s get to the car. It’s time for the final step of your training for today.”

Declan nodded, wordless, as Brooks guided him back to the patrol car. The older man opened the door for him, placing a firm hand on Declan’s shoulder to help him inside. Once Declan was seated, Brooks leaned over, pulling the seatbelt across the rookie’s chest and buckling it securely.

“There we go,” Brooks murmured, his hand brushing briefly against Declan’s chest before stepping back and closing the door. He circled the car, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. The low growl filled the air, but Brooks didn’t move immediately.

Instead, he turned to Declan, placing a hand firmly on the younger man’s thigh, squeezing just enough to make his presence unmistakable. Declan stiffened slightly, his eyes flickering toward the touch before settling back into their glazed, empty stare.

“Now, rookie,” Brooks began, his voice soft but commanding. “I need you to focus. Focus all of you—every thought, every feeling—on your cock. Let it consume you.”

Declan’s breath hitched slightly, his chest rising and falling faster now, his body responding instinctively to the command.

“Good,” Brooks said, his hand remaining steady on Declan’s thigh. “Let it all out. Empty your mind. Don’t think. Just feel. Let it build. Let it take over.”

Declan’s eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting as he exhaled a shuddering breath. The tension in his body melted away, leaving him pliant once more, his head tilting slightly against the seat.

“And now,” Brooks continued, his voice dipping lower, almost a growl, “finish your training, rookie. Show me how far you’ve come.”

Declan let out a soft, trembling sound, his body obeying without hesitation as his mind emptied, focusing entirely on the sensation overtaking him. Brooks leaned back slightly, his hand still firm on the rookie’s thigh, watching with satisfaction as Declan surrendered completely, the final step in his transformation into perfect obedience.

Brooks’ grip on Declan’s thigh tightened as he leaned closer, his hand sliding up to firmly hold the rookie’s bulge. The strain beneath the fabric pulsed with tension, and Brooks’ touch remained steady, guiding him through the inevitable.

“That’s it, rookie,” Brooks murmured, his voice soft and coaxing. “Let it all out. Just focus on me, on my hand. I’ve got you.”

Declan’s breath came in shallow, shaky bursts, his body trembling as he surrendered completely. Brooks’ possessive hold didn’t waver, his hand firm and reassuring, controlling every motion as he guided Declan to release.

When it finally happened, Declan’s entire body shuddered, and he let out a low, involuntary groan. His muscles went slack, and he slumped back against the car seat, his chest heaving as the last remnants of tension drained from his body.

The wetness soaked through the tight fabric, against Brooks' palm. His cock throbbed visible, as he gave in completely. His eyes opened briefly just to roll back.

Brooks chuckled, withdrawing his hand but letting it linger on Declan’s thigh, a silent reminder of his control. He surveyed the rookie with satisfaction: flushed, pliant, and utterly spent.

“Good job, rookie,” Brooks said, his voice filled with pride. “You’ve learned fast. You’ve done everything I asked of you, just like I knew you would.”

Declan’s head lolled slightly to the side, his glazed eyes fluttering shut as his body relaxed into the seat.

“Now, rest patiently,” Brooks instructed, his tone soft but firm. “It’s almost time for you to come back. I’ll tell you when we’re at the station.”

He leaned back, gripping the steering wheel as he glanced at Declan one more time, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. The rookie was perfect—obedient, eager, and exactly where Brooks wanted him. The car rumbled softly as Brooks turned his attention back to the road, driving toward the station with his rookie still deep in his trance, waiting for his sergeant’s next command.

A few blocks from the station, Brooks pulled the patrol car to a stop once more, the engine rumbling briefly before he turned it off. He leaned back in his seat, turning toward Declan. The rookie was slumped slightly, one hand lazily stroking his chest through the fabric of his vest while the other rested over the damp bulge in his pants.

Brooks smirked, shaking his head with mock disapproval. “Now, now, rookie. We need some composure,” he chided, reaching out to straighten the fabric of Declan’s uniform. His fingers lingered over the taut, damp patch, smoothing it as if to hide any evidence of the rookie’s earlier release.“

We don’t want the other rookies to know, do we?” Brooks continued, his voice low and teasing. “They might get jealous.” He chuckled softly, his hand drifting up to caress Declan’s flushed face, his thumb brushing over the rookie’s jawline with possessive care.

“Don’t worry about the older guys, though,” Brooks added with a smirk. “They already know.”

Declan’s lips parted slightly, his breathing steady and shallow, completely under Brooks’ control. Brooks let the silence linger for a moment, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles along Declan’s cheek before giving him his final instructions.

“Time to come back, rookie,” Brooks murmured, his voice soft but commanding. “You won’t have any vivid memory from today. Just the little conditioning remains. Understood?”

Declan gave a slow nod, his head tilting slightly into Brooks’ touch. “Understood, sir.”

Brooks leaned closer, his hand moving to cup Declan’s chin. “You won’t bother with the wetness. It will feel natural soon. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Brooks pulled back slightly, his smirk returning. “Then rise and shine, rookie. Tingle.”

Declan blinked, his eyes slowly coming back into focus. He shifted slightly in his seat, a faint frown crossing his face before he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re at the station already?” he asked, his tone light and confused. “Must’ve dozed off.”

“It’s fine, lad,” Brooks said with a warm smile, patting Declan’s shoulder. “Didn’t miss anything important.”

Declan smiled sheepishly, still rubbing his chest absently, his fingers drifting over the wet patch without realizing it. Brooks noticed, his amusement hidden behind a professional veneer.

“Listen,” Brooks said casually, leaning back in his seat, “word has it we might be partnered for a while. If you want it, that is.”

Declan’s face lit up, his excitement palpable. “Really? I’d love that, sir.”

Brooks chuckled, gesturing toward the station ahead. “Good. Let’s head back, get changed, and call it a day, huh? You’ve earned it.”

Declan nodded eagerly, already unbuckling his seatbelt as Brooks started the car again. The sergeant smirked to himself as he pulled into the station lot, already planning the next stage of the rookie’s training.

Brooks guided Declan out of the car and toward the station, his hand lingering on the rookie’s back in a steady, reassuring gesture. Declan walked beside him, a slight bounce in his step despite the lingering haze from earlier.

As they stepped inside, the buzz of the station enveloped them. A few older officers lounging near the breakroom glanced up, their eyes immediately settling on Declan. Knowing smirks spread across their faces, subtle nods exchanged as Brooks and his rookie passed by.

“Evening, Sergeant,” one of them called out casually, his tone dripping with amusement.

“Evening,” Brooks replied with a grin, his voice calm and composed.

Their eyes darted to Declan, whose flushed face and slightly rumpled uniform made him an easy target.

“Rookie’s coming along nicely,” another officer said, his voice low enough that only Brooks caught it.

“Oh, he’s going to be such a good cop,” another muttered, barely hiding his chuckle.

Declan didn’t notice the teasing, too focused on walking straight and making his way to the locker room. Brooks kept his hand on Declan’s shoulder, steering him through the space with quiet authority, his expression unreadable but for the faintest trace of satisfaction.

Inside the locker room, Brooks stood back as Declan began unzipping his vest. The younger man’s movements were slow, deliberate, his focus entirely on the mundane task of changing out of his uniform.

“You did well tonight,” Brooks said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the room.

Declan looked up, his face brightening at the praise. “Thank you, sir. I’m just trying to learn as much as I can.”

“You’re learning fast,” Brooks replied, stepping closer and adjusting the collar of Declan’s shirt with deliberate care. “Keep it up, rookie.”

Declan nodded, his chest puffing slightly with pride as he turned back to his locker. Brooks allowed himself one more smirk, the knowing chuckles of the older officers still echoing faintly in his ears.

The rookie had no idea how much he stood out—or how much he was already fitting in.

Brooks leaned against the row of lockers, watching as Declan fumbled slightly with his belt, the rookie’s fingers working the buckle with the kind of earnest determination Brooks found endlessly amusing. When the uniform finally came off, piece by piece, Brooks made no effort to hide his curiosity.

“Go on, rookie,” he said smoothly, gesturing toward the showers. “I’ll handle the report this time. Paperwork’s a pain—you’ll learn it soon enough.”

Declan gave a grateful nod, oblivious to the sharp, appraising look Brooks cast his way as he walked toward the showers, his bare back glistening faintly under the fluorescent lights.

Brooks chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he turned and exited the locker room. The soft hiss of the showers starting echoed behind him, and he smirked to himself as he made his way down the hall to the breakroom.

The moment he stepped inside, the older officers lounging around the table exchanged knowing glances, their smirks widening.

“Back already, Sergeant?” one of them asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Rookie busy cleaning up?” another chimed in, his tone laced with amusement.

Brooks grabbed a cup from the counter, pouring himself a coffee with deliberate slowness. “He’s doing just fine,” he said, his voice calm but with an edge of satisfaction.

“Bet he is,” one officer muttered, earning a round of muffled chuckles from the others.

“Looks like he’s taking to your methods real well,” another added, nudging his partner with a grin. “Real eager, that one.”

Brooks turned, leaning against the counter with his cup in hand, his expression unreadable except for the faint curve of his lips. “He’s going to be a damn good cop,” he said simply, his tone loaded with meaning.

After some time, Declan emerged from the locker room, freshly showered and dressed in his casual clothes. His hair was still damp, and he wore a comfortable, relaxed expression, a quiet smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He stepped into the breakroom, glancing around before his gaze landed on Brooks.

“See you on Monday, rookie,” Brooks said with a playful pat on Declan’s back, his tone light, though there was a certain weight behind it. The kind of weight that suggested there was more than just casual camaraderie between them.

Declan nodded eagerly, still buzzing from the events of the evening. “Yeah, see you then, sir.” He flashed Brooks a smile before turning toward the exit.

A few older officers, who had been quietly chatting nearby, exchanged amused looks as they watched Declan go.

“You’ve got him well trained, Brooks,” one of them commented, his voice teasing but with a note of admiration.

“He’s gonna be a handful,” another officer added with a knowing grin, leaning back in his chair. “He doesn’t even know it yet, but he’s already hooked.”

Brooks chuckled, his eyes narrowing with amusement as he took another sip from his coffee. “He’s got potential. The rookie’ll be fine,” he said, but there was an unmistakable pride in his voice.

“I’m sure he’ll be quite the asset,” the first officer agreed, his tone light but with a hint of admiration. “Takes a special kind of rookie to make it this far.”

Brooks didn’t respond immediately, but his lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. He watched as Declan headed out the door, unaware of the subtle teasing from the older officers around him. He knew his rookie was already on the path to being just the kind of cop Brooks had been looking for.

“Time will tell,” Brooks murmured under his breath, his gaze lingering on the door where Declan had just exited.

[lovesculprit]

a/n: slow intro with a fair bit of dialogue & little plot twist at the end? + if you don't like gunplay, i promise this is not the one for you, don't read it wc: 5.7k

the rest of kinktober here + (toji art credit) + special tag @risararelywrites <3

As the night crept on, the thrill of the scare park hung thick in the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter and muffled shrieks from other visitors. You walked arm-in-arm with Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru, revelling in the pulse of adrenaline that shot through you whenever an actor lunged from the darkness. Together, you’d gone through nearly every haunted house in the park, each one more elaborate than the last. 

But now, as you drifted toward the edge of the grounds, the lively sounds began to fade, swallowed up by the sight of a lone haunted house standing apart from the others—a grim silhouette shrouded in eerie, rolling fog.

This house looked different. It was darker, older, with an unsettling aura that seemed to thicken the air around it. Unlike the other exhibits, there were no bright lights, no cheering guides or costumed actors welcoming you in, just an open doorway that hinted at cracked wood, grimy windows, and shadows that seemed to hang around and watch.

"Why isn’t anyone going in?" you murmured, stopping to stare at the building. "Did they close it for the night?"

Shoko glanced at Suguru, exchanging a look that sent a tiny ripple of unease through you. “No, it’s open. Just not exactly popular,” she replied, her voice low.

“Not popular?” You smirked, letting the hint of a challenge seep in. “Is it really that bad?”

“Depends who you ask,” Satoru replied, his usual playful tone missing as he stared at the house. “People don’t go in alone.”

“It’s a scare park.” You scoffed, waving off his warning. “How scary could it actually be?”

Suguru placed a hand on your shoulder, a rare seriousness in his eyes. “This one’s different. People say there’s something… wrong with it. Nobody wants to find out for sure.”

“Wrong?” you echoed, crossing your arms. “How, exactly?”

“Some say there’s a man who hides in there,” Shoko murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “They don’t know if he’s some rogue actor or just… some crazy man. But he’s armed. Supposedly, he sneaks around pretending to be part of the act.”

You looked at the house again, half-amused, half-spooked. “So you’re telling me there’s a real psycho in there hiding out? Right.”

Your friends exchanged wary glances, their usual bravado notably absent, which only deepened your curiosity. “You’re serious? This is over some urban legend?”

“It’s not a legend,” Shoko muttered, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting to see someone creeping out of the fog. “People say they’ve seen him covered in blood. They say he blends right in until it’s too late.”

“Staff avoid it too,” Satoru added, his tone unusually flat. “So if you’re thinking about going in, maybe reconsider.”

A thrill shot through you, half defiance, half intrigue. The house loomed ahead, daring you. “So you all think he’s in there tonight?”

Suguru’s hand tightened on your shoulder. “It’s not worth finding out. There are plenty of other places we can check out.”

But the challenge tugged at you, almost tauntingly. You took a step forward, drawing exasperated sighs from your friends.

"Are you actually going in there?"

"This is a hard no for me," Shoko insisted.

“Come on, we’re not kidding around,” Suguru said, his expression sombre.

You gave them a shrug and a smile. “I’ll just peek in, five minutes, that’s all.”

Shoko crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. “Right, nothing bad ever happens in ‘just five minutes.’”

“Remember, if he’s in there, we’re not coming to save you.” Satoru jokes as he rolls his eyes.

"Noted," you replied, dancing around him with a grin. "If anything happens, at least I'll have a story."

But as you moved toward the darkened doorway, the memories of the warnings hounded you, and crossing the threshold, a small voice whispered, maybe they're right.

Inside, the shadows clung to the walls, warping and shifting with every flicker of the dim yellowing light bulbs. The air was heavy, still, as though the house itself was holding its breath, waiting. With each cautious step, the floor remained eerily silent-no familiar creaks, no whispers from other thrill-seekers echoing from somewhere in the darkness. The quiet was suffocating.

"It's just another haunted house," you whispered, trying to break the silence. But even your voice seemed to be swallowed up by the shadows.

You reached the edge of a dusty, darkened room when a soft dragging sound cut through the quiet. You whirled around, your heart hammering, but the hallway behind you was empty. The moment you began to steady your breath, a low rumbling chuckle echoed through the room, crawling down your spine.

"Didn't think anyone would wander in alone," a voice drawled from the shadows, smooth and dripping with dark amusement. "You've got guts.”

Your breath caught as a figure began to take form: a tall, wide man whose eyes glinted in the poor light. He moved like a shadow off the wall, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips as he took another step forward, the faint glow illuminating a pistol in his hand, his finger lazily resting near the trigger.

You swallowed hard and forced a grin, hoping to mask your unease. "Are… are you part of the show?"

He chuckled, his eyes raking over you with dangerous curiosity. "I'm part of an experience," he told you, that taunting smile twisting. "But not the kind you paid for.”

Your heart was racing as he closed in; his eyes were razor-sharp and predatory. He didn't hurry-if anything, he drew out the fear across your features. The pistol glinted in his hand, but his gaze stayed fixed on you, like he was reading every flicker of emotion.

He moved forward with a nearly lazy step; his head fell to the side as his smile grew, watching you inch backward. "So, you thought this was just another haunted house?" he asked, the tiniest thread of dark thrill weaved in. "Guess it's too late to warn you some rumours are worth listening to.

Your back hit the wall, and his eyes lit up with a spark of satisfaction. He leaned in closer, pressing the gun against his temple as he did so, an intense gaze and a chilling gleam in his eye. "You've got that look-the one which says you're curious. Brave, maybe a little too much so." He paused, smirk deepening. "So, how brave are you feeling now?”

You clenched your jaw and wouldn't flinch. "Maybe I am not as easy to scare as you think," you muttered, though your own voice quivered ever so slightly. "Oh?" His smirk whittled just a little sharper, a flash of mirth dancing in his eyes. "Then let us see.”

He let go of your wrist, only to trail the gun’s barrel along your jawline, his eyes drinking in every flinch, every shiver. He seemed to delight in drawing out the silence, each second weighted with his slow, deliberate movements. And in that quiet, somehow, the unspoken threat felt far more sinister.

As he studied you, his gaze lingered, savouring the fear that glinted in your eyes. “I have all night to see what it takes to break you,” he murmured, his voice almost playful. “And something tells me, this is going to be fun.”

The glint in his eyes held a dark promise, and you knew, too late, that you’d wandered into a trap—the kind that left you wondering just who, exactly, was meant to be scared.

You swallowed, struggling to hold his gaze, fighting the instinct to look away. But he had you cornered, and he knew it—knew you were trapped in his snare, just like he’d intended. The glint in his eye sharpened as he watched, a spark of twisted satisfaction lighting up his face as he took in every flicker of fear.

The man’s grin stretched wider, dark and mocking, as he watched you. With a slow, deliberate motion, he lowered the gun, tracing the cold barrel down your jawline, his eyes studying every inch of your face with a predatory intensity. The silence between you pressed in, suffocating and tense, somehow worse than any threat he could have made.

“You’re trembling now,” he whispered, voice dipped in dark humour. “But it makes me wonder…” He tilted his head, a false look of innocence softening his gaze even as his smirk stayed razor-sharp. “Is it fear making you shake? Or is it something… else?”

Your breath caught, a barely perceptible hitch that he didn’t miss. His smirk grew, as though he’d stumbled on a private joke, something only he was in on. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re the kind who gets a thrill out of all this?” he mocked, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, as if he were sharing a secret with you. “The type who’d never admit it, but… can’t help the way their heart races anyway.”

You tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let you off so easily. With a nudge from the gun, he forced your chin up, his gaze locking with yours. “I see you,” he continued, inching closer, his warm breath fanning across your skin. “People like you walk in here alone, pretending it’s just for the thrill.” He leaned in, his voice lowering to a near murmur against your ear. “But maybe you wanted more.”

His words sent a shiver through you, mingling fear with something you didn’t want to acknowledge. He leaned back, watching your reaction, fingers brushing the side of your face in a touch that was disturbingly gentle. “Maybe that’s why you’re here,” he said, a rough laugh slipping from his lips. “I doubt someone like you would admit it, though.”

Your mind raced, and your voice caught in your throat, a knot of indignation and fear keeping you silent. He noticed, smirking like he’d already won. “Right on the mark, aren’t I?” he murmured, his hand resting on your cheek. “It’s always the innocent ones—scare the easiest, break the fastest.”

Your heart pounded, and though you willed yourself to pull away, your body seemed frozen under his touch. He held your gaze, thumb brushing softly over your cheek. “Just say it,” he teased, leaning close again. His thumb pressed lightly against your throat, tracing the beat of your pulse. “You didn’t come in here just for the scare, did you?”

The mocking smile he wore softened slightly, his voice lowering to a nearly intimate whisper. “I can feel it—the way you’re responding. The thrill, the nerves, the part of you that’s not sure if you want to run… or stay.”

You hated the way he seemed to read you, hated that he saw through the mask you wore to the part of you he’d awakened, a part tinged with something reckless and dangerous. He bent down further, enjoying how he had you at his mercy. "That's it, isn't it?" he mumbled, "It's a game-this line between predator and prey." His voice dropped to a purr. “Between fear… and whatever this is.”

You tried to steady your breath as he studied every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the touch feather-light but charged, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“How much would you actually enjoy being pushed?” he wondered aloud, eyes glinting. “Maybe you’d even beg for it. Maybe you’d even like not having control.”

A thrill of panic mingled with something darker, something that made your heart beat faster. He could see it, knew the effect he was having, and the satisfaction on his face only grew. “Just admit it,” he murmured, his tone insistent, his thumb grazing your jawline. “Admit how much you’re enjoying this.”

His fingertips lingered on your hip, a reassuring touch that was highly unsettling, as if he were daring you to let those words pass your lips out loud. "Come on," he seduced, the devilish glint dancing in his eyes. "I promise I won't bite… unless you're asking.

His hand slid around to the small of your back, pulling you against him. The heat of his body reminded you just how close he was, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted. His voice dropped to a near-growl. “Last chance to back out.” His lips ghosted over your earlobe. “Tell me to stop, and I will. But if you don’t…”

His grip tightened, teeth grazing your ear, and then he pulled back, his gaze sharp as he slipped the gun into his waistband. His eyes were fixed upon yours with such intensity and something so akin to hunger; it sent the shiver down your spine. "So," he breathed, his voice low, with just a hint of challenge. "Ready to play?

Your heartbeat pounded against your rib cage, each thud a resonating drum in the silence between you. His words, his touch, the heat radiating off his body, it threatened to overwhelm you, drowning out every rational thought. You knew you should tell him to stop, should put space between you, but something kept you frozen there, curiosity mixing with the thrill of the unknown.

"I… I don't.", you stuttered, all but a whisper, while shallow breaths betrayed you, even in protest.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk edging toward a full grin. “You don’t what?” he asked, eyes gleaming. “Don’t want me to stop… or don’t know if you should?”

Closer still, he leaned in until his nose brushed against yours, his gaze burrowing into yours with an intensity that made your knees feel weak. “I think you want this more than you’ll admit,” he murmured. His hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head, exposing your neck. “Just say the word,” he whispered, his lips hovering over yours. “I’ll give you everything you’ve been too afraid to ask for.”

He caught your bottom lip between his teeth, a playful nip that he soothed with his tongue, his voice softening to a near-coax. “Come on, sweetheart,” he breathed, every word a slow, dangerous promise. “Let yourself stop fighting it.”

"Okay," you whispered, just barely audible, the last shred of resistance dissolving as his lips claimed yours-hard and demanding. The kiss bruised with its possessiveness-he took your mouth with such hunger that robbed your breath, his tongue delving deep inside to consume you. His hand tangles in the strands of your hair, keeping you firmly in place, the other roaming along your body, mapping out every curve.

But the next instant, he pushed you away, and you tumbled backward, falling against a stack of old props that tumbled with you, a flicker of fear crossing your features. He saw it.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he mocked, stalking toward you on lean legs with a predator's ease. "Scared off so soon?"

His eyes shone with a feral light, a cruel smirk playing about his lips. "I thought you wanted to play."

He leaned over you, grasping at your chin roughly to force you to look up at him. "Maybe you're not as brave as you thought," he sneered. "Or maybe", the tone darker, "you just need a little more incentive."

His hand had gone to his waistband, drawing out his gun. He pressed the cold metal against your lips, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that chilled you to the bone.

"Open up, sweetheart," he ordered in his voice, a thick coating of mockery. "Let's see if you're as good with that mouth as I think you are." A hand twisted in your hair yanking your head back to bare the line of your neck. "Or maybe," he mused, "I should just shut you up completely."

He traced the gun along your jaw, down your throat, stopping at the hollow at the bottom of your neck. His eyes never once strayed from yours as he watched for the effects, feeding off your growing fear. "What's it gonna be, baby? Want to play nice, or should I get rough with you?"

He leaned closer, his eyes glinting with sadistic glee as he savoured the tension. "Tick tock," he murmured, his voice a low, menacing growl. "Time's running out, and my patience is wearing thin. Choose wisely, baby—it might just save your life."

A wicked grin spread across his face as he saw you open your mouth, lips parting just enough for the barrel of the gun to slide between them, the cold metal pressing against your tongue. "That’s it," he purred. "Good girl."

He pushed the gun deeper, savouring the sight of you as the taste of metal filled your mouth. "Suck," he commanded, his voice thick with lust as he watched you obey, your lips stretched around the barrel, tongue swirling over the smooth surface. His hand in your hair tightened, and he let out a low, satisfied groan.

"Fuck, that’s hot," he breathed, his hips pressing forward as he ground against you. "You’re a natural at this, aren’t you? I bet you'd look even better with your lips wrapped around something else."

He watched with rapt attention as you continued, cheeks hollowing, mouth working the gun with an obedient rhythm. His gaze darkened as he took in the sight of you, debasing yourself at his command.

Finally, he withdrew the gun, a string of saliva briefly connecting it to your lips. "Kiss it," he growled, voice low and commanding. "Show me how much you want it."

You pressed your lips against the barrel, kissing it softly, your eyes flickering up to meet his gaze, exactly as he demanded. Seeing you so submissive, so compliant, sent a rush of satisfaction through him.

"Atta girl," he murmured approvingly, his voice a soft purr of pleasure.

He pulled the gun away, resting it on the side as he freed his cock from his pants, stroking it slowly, teasingly, as you knelt before him. He smirked down at you, his eyes glinting with dark promise. "Put that pretty mouth to work, baby. Show me what you can do."

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, guiding your head towards his cock, the musky scent of him filling your nostrils. His other hand gripped the base of his shaft, slapping the head against your lips, leaving a smear of pre-cum.

He pushed forward, forcing the head of his cock past your lips, groaning as your warm mouth enveloped him. "Fuck, that's it," he growled, his hips rocking gently, pushing deeper.

He groaned as your lips stretched around his thick, veiny shaft, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head. His cock was long and hard, the skin smooth and hot against your tongue. The musky, masculine taste of him filled your mouth as you took him deeper, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked.

Saliva dripped down your chin as you bobbed your head, your hand coming up to grip the base, stroking what you couldn't fit in your mouth. He tasted of sweat and arousal, the flavour heady and intoxicating on your tongue.

Lewd, wet sounds filled the air as you slurped and sucked, your nose buried in his pubic hair, breathing in his scent. His balls were heavy and full, bouncing against your chin as you worked him over.

"Fuck, just like that," he grunted, his grip on your hair tightening, his hips snapping forward, fucking your face with shallow thrusts. "Take it all, baby.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as he hit the back of your throat, your gag reflex working overtime, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you relaxed your throat, letting him slide deeper, taking him to the hilt.

He threw his head back with a groan, his abs clenching, his thighs trembling as you swallowed around him, your throat fluttering around his sensitive flesh.

"Goddamn, you're a natural," he panted, his voice strained with pleasure.

The click of the safety being disengaged sent a jolt of fear through you, even as you continued to suck him off. The cold metal of the gun brushed against your cheek, a stark contrast to the heat of his cock in your mouth.

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending vibrations through his shaft. "You like that, don't you, baby? The danger, the thrill. It gets you hot, doesn't it?" He pressed the gun to your temple, the barrel cold against your skin as he fucked your face harder, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper down your throat.

"Bet you're soaking wet right now," He groaned, his grip on your hair tightening as he neared his peak. "Fuck, I'm close," he grunted, his hips stuttering, his cock throbbing in your mouth.

He pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop, his cock slick with your saliva. "Not yet, baby," he growled, his voice low and guttural. "I'm not done with you."

He grabbed your arm, hauling you to your feet, spinning you around and shoving you so you were bent over the wooden table. The rough wood scraped against your skin, the edge digging into your hips as he kicked your legs apart, exposing you to his gaze.

He flipped up your skirt, tearing your panties away with a sharp rip. His fingers dipped between your folds, teasing your entrance, circling your clit. 

"Fuck, look at you," he purred, his hand coming down hard on your ass, making you yelp. "Already so wet for me. Yeah, you’re not innocent at all, are you?” He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin as he spat directly onto your pussy, the warm liquid trickling between your folds before he licked a stripe along your slit.

He dove in, his tongue delving deep into your folds, lapping at your juices. He teased your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, flicking the sensitive bud with rapid strokes. The hand holding the gun rested against your ass as the other held one of your thighs, exposing you completely to his hungry mouth.

He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, darting flicks, his tongue exploring every inch of your pussy. He growled against your flesh, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine. His nose rubbed your clit as he buried his face deeper, his tongue probing your entrance.

He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them to stroke your G-spot as he continued to eat you out. He added a third finger, stretching you, filling you, as his tongue swirled around your clit.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he groaned, his words muffled against your pussy. "So sweet and wet for me. I could eat this cunt all day."

He sealed his lips around your clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive nub. His fingers pumped in and out of you, the wet squelching sounds obscene in the quiet room.

His cock throbbed, rock hard and leaking pre-cum as he feasted on your pussy. The taste of you, the feel of your wetness coating his tongue, the sounds of your moans and whimpers—it all drove him wild with lust.

He fucked his fingers harder into you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. His tongue flicked rapidly over your clit as he sucked, nibbled, licked every inch of your sopping folds.

He pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. His eyes dark and hungry as he took in the sight of you, spread out and desperate for him.

"Mmm, you're so fucking wet," he purred, his voice low and dangerous. "I could eat this pretty pussy all night long."

He trailed the gun along your inner thigh, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. "But first, I think I need to prep you a little. Get you nice and ready for me."

He teasingly ran the barrel of the gun along your folds, the cold metal sending a jolt of sensation through you. "What do you think, baby? Think you can handle this?"

You looked over your shoulder at him, stealing a glance as his eyes gleamed in the moonlight, a faint nod of your head as you wanted it.

"I don't know," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Can you?"

He circled your clit with the tip of the gun, the metal cool against your heated flesh. Your hips twitched, seeking more pressure, more friction.

"Look at you, so desperate for it," he purred, his free hand coming down on your ass in a sharp slap. "Even with a gun to your cunt, you're still begging for it."

“Tell me-” he says as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, “Use those words.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatened to spill from your lips. His touch, his words, they were driving you crazy with need. You wanted him, all of him, and you didn't care how twisted it was.

"Please," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. "Please, I need it. I need you."

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "That's more like it”

He trailed the cold metal of the gun along your slit, teasing your entrance, circling it slowly. You could feel the heat of him, the weight of his gaze on your body as he watched you squirm

He pressed the tip of the gun against your entrance, the metal cool and unyielding. Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest as he applied just the slightest bit of pressure.

He pressed the tip of the gun inside you, the cold metal sliding in teasingly slow. You gasped, your body tensing at the unfamiliar sensation. He went deeper, inch by torturous inch, stretching you, filling you in a way you'd never experienced before.

"Fuck, look at you taking it," he groaned, his voice low and approving. "Such a good girl, so eager for me."

He worked the gun in and out, fucking you with it, the metal gliding along your walls, hitting spots you didn't know existed. Your pussy clenched around it, trying to adjust to the intrusion, the friction.

He pushed the gun deeper, the metal sliding in with a slick sound, your wetness easing the way. You whimpered, your body trembling as he filled you, stretched you, claimed you in the most primal way possible.

He pulled it out slowly, the metal dragging along your folds, teasing your entrance, before pushing it back in.

He twisted the gun, the barrel rubbing against your sensitive walls, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. Your pussy clenched around it, trying to adjust to the intrusion, the friction.

The wet, obscene sounds of the gun pumping in and out of your pussy filled the air, mixing with your moans and whimpers. He angled it just right, hitting that spot deep inside that made your toes curl, your eyes roll back in your head.

He pulled the gun out suddenly, leaving you empty and aching. You whimpered at the loss, your body craving more.

"Patience, baby," he purred as he tossed the gun to the side. "We're just getting started."

He lined himself up, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance.

He pushed inside you slowly, inch by throbbing inch, stretching you, filling you. Your pussy clenched around him, trying to adjust to his size, his heat. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady as he sank deeper.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted, his voice strained with pleasure. "Feels so good wrapped around my cock."

He bottomed out as his massive frame engulfed you as he leaned over your back, his balls heavy and full against you as he remained deep inside you. He stayed there for a moment, letting you feel every inch.

Then he started to move, his hips rocking, his cock sliding in and out of your slick heat. He set a slow, deep rhythm, pulling out until just the tip remained before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt.

Your pussy fluttered around him, your walls clinging to his shaft, trying to keep him inside. He grunted with each thrust, his fingers digging into your skin with a pressure that you know will leave marks.

He wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you back against him, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper. His other hand slid up your body, coming to rest at your throat. Not squeezing yet, just a gentle reminder of his control, his dominance.

"That's it, baby," he growled in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Take it. Take my cock like the good girl you are."

He fucked you harder, faster, his grip on your throat tightening just a fraction. The dual sensations of pleasure and pressure, of being filled and controlled, sent waves of heat coursing through your body.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he panted, his hips pistoning, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur. "Gonna fill you up with my cum. Pump you full until it's leaking out of you."

His fingers tightened around your throat, not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your heart race, your pussy clench around him. He was so close, his cock throbbing inside you, his body tensing.

His grip tightened on your throat, his fingers pressing just hard enough to make your pulse flutter beneath them. His other arm cinched around your waist, pulling you back harder, his hips slamming into you with bruising force.

"Fuck, gonna come," he grunted, his voice strained and guttural.

He pounded into you relentlessly, his cock stretching you, claiming you, branding you from the inside out. His balls slapped against your clit with each brutal thrust, the wet, obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air.

His hand on your throat squeezed again, not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your head swim, your vision blur. The dual sensations of pleasure and pressure, of being filled and controlled, pushed you closer to the edge.

His fingers found your clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles as he fucked you harder, deeper, his cock pounding into your pussy like a jackhammer. The added stimulation was too much, sending you careening over the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm.

Your pussy clamped down around him, fluttering and clenching, milking his cock for all it was worth. Your body shook and trembled, your moans echoing off the walls as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

He groaned, his hips stuttering, his rhythm faltering as your pussy worked him over. "Fuck, yes, come for me," he growled, his fingers pinching your clit, prolonging your climax.

With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he emptied himself inside you. His thick cum filled you, painting your walls white, marking you as his.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight pinning you to the table, his breath coming in harsh pants against your neck. For a moment, you both just lay there, basking in the afterglow, your bodies still joined, your hearts beating in sync.

He rolled his hips, his semi-hard cock still buried inside you, drawing out your pleasure. He pulled out slowly, a groan escaping him as your walls clung to him, trying to keep him inside.

He watched, transfixed, as his cum leaked out of your pussy, dripping down your thighs. The sight of you, so thoroughly used, so marked by him, sent a fresh wave of arousal through him.

"Fuck, look at you," he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. "So fucking beautiful, covered in my cum."

He leaned down, pressing soft, teasing kisses along your spine as you lay there, trying to catch your breath. His hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves and dips, the marks he'd left on your skin.

"You did so well, baby," he purred, his lips brushing against your ear.

He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing. “Come on, up, lemme get a look at you.”

He helped you up, his hands steady on your hips as you wobbled on shaky legs. He turned you around to face him, his eyes dark and hungry as they roamed over your body, taking in the marks he'd left, the cum still dripping down your thighs.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, his hands cupping your face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "I could look at you like this all day."

He kissed you then, hard and deep, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, tasting himself on your lips. He pulled back, his eyes searching yours, a question in them.

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks as he helps you redress, along with himself.

"No," you breathe, your voice hoarse and trembling. "It was... intense, but not painful."

You lean into his touch, savouring the warmth of his hands on your face, the solidness of his body against yours. Despite the darkness of what just transpired, there's a strange comfort in his presence, a sense of belonging.

“The gun-” you begin before he chuckles and interrupts you as he approaches the gun and picks it up, “Looks pretty real, huh? Feels it too.”

You laugh a little at that, “Yeah, it definitely felt it.”

“I’ll have to thank your friends for getting me such a good prop” He says, “And for arranging this whole place…You think they’re waiting outside?”

“God no, Shoko made it very clear yesterday that she wouldn’t wait around whilst I came in here to get fucked by my boyfriend. They’ll be long gone, we can call a cab.”

“Cab it is.” He smirks as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

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