#so I’m focusing on that and I’m not sorry!

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - Kris's Birthday

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

Close to the end of their journey, Kris has a small celebration with the beasts, and reflects some on both their past with their brother, and the light world ahead.

(Reminder that I draw these scenes out of chronological order!)

YAY managed to get another part done! This one won the poll, so had to go with it first! At least Kris finally gets a nice, happy moment with all the beasts they've recruited!

Alt text under the read more:

Page 1

Panel 1 - Wide opening shot. Kris sits facing Ralsei, with the rest of the Fun Gang surrounding them. The Gang now consists of Susie, Noelle, Lancer, Berdly, Catti and Jockington, and Monster Kid. The Fun Gang have set up camp in a hollow crater, the landscape around them rocky and barren. Everyone is lit solely by the glow of a campfire in the center of the crater. Ralsei addresses Kris: “Get plenty of rest, Kris.”

Panel 2 - Medium shot of Kris and Ralsei, still across from each other with the fire between them. Ralsei continues, “Tomorrow we face the last bound god before the Dark Fountain…it’ll be our toughest fight yet!” Kris responds, “Yes. I understand.” They stare into the fire.

Panel 3 - Closeup on a happy Ralsei as he holds up one claw. “And since we’re so close to the end…”

Panel 4 - “...I thought I’d conjure up a special surprise for you!” Ralsei moves his claws, and magically congeals a plate, food and frosting all together in a swirling center.

Panel 5 - Ralsei holds up the finished object in front of the fire: a small frosted cake, topped with strawberries. “SURPRISE! Happy birthday, Kris!” he declares with a broad smile.

Page 2

Panel 1 - Ralsei holds the cake up in the foreground. Kris looks at it in surprise. Behind them, Susie and Noelle look on with interest. “Wow! Is today really your birthday, Kris?” Noelle asks.

Panel 2 - Closeup on Kris. They scratch at their head in confusion, and respond, “I… Is it? I’ve lost track of the days since arriving here…”

Panel 3 - Medium shot as Ralsei happily hands the cake to Kris, who takes it. He says, “Well, I’m not sure if it’s exactly today. But by my estimates you should have had one by now! So now is as good a time as any!”

Panel 4 - A wider upshot as Kris takes the cake, and the beasts watch. Berdly leans in closer, curious, and asks, “What do you humans do on these ‘birth-days,’ as you call them?”

Kris replies, “Well, typically…you eat cake, or some other sweet treat, and you spend time with your friends and family.”

Panel 5 - Kris stares into the fire again, and continues, “And usually, they also give you gifts.” Behind them, as if in abstract shadow, is an image of a younger Kris surrounded by the other Dreemurrs, all smiling. It seems to be a memory of a past birthday.

Page 3

Panel 1 - Closeup of Kris still looking into the fire, their eyes hidden by their hair. A shadow seems to fall over them. The memories of happier times still hurt.

Panel 2 - Lancer pipes up: “Ya got the cake and friends part right here!” Kris turns to see Lancer and Susie smiling at them, and gives a small smile back.

Panel 3 - Noelle leans in over Kris as well, her head taking up most of the panel. She says, “Sorry, we don’t have any gifts for you…but two out of three isn’t bad, right?”

Kris’s smile broadens a little, and they reply, “No, it is not.”

Panel 4 - Kris pulls out a smaller knife…

Panel 5 - And in a shot focused on the cake, begins to slice the cake into equal pieces with the knife.

Panel 6 - Kris offers a piece to Catti, who happily licks it up. “Tasty.”

Panel 7 - Kris tosses a piece across the fire to Berdly, who catches it in his mouth. “Thanks, Kris!”

Panel 8 - Kris turns around and tosses another piece into Susie’s open jaws. “Hell yeah, cake!” she says, excited.

Page 4

Panel 1 - A wide shot as the whole Fun Gang sit around the fire, enjoying their cake slices, small as they are. Kris works on eating their own slice. Noelle says, “That was good! …Do you think there’ll be lots more cake in the light world?”

Panel 2 - Medium shot of Kris, who turns to look up at Noelle. “Yes, there are. But I would have thought you’d be interested in the humans more,” they say around a mouthful of cake.

Panel 3 - Noelle looks off to the right, and responds, “Sure, I’ll have some, if they’re soft… I don’t like the hard bits, like armor and bones.”

Panel 4 - Wider shot as Noelle leans back against Susie, snuggling into her side. “I mostly want to get to the Light World and quiet this feeling in my mind…once I do that, I’ll be happy,” She says.

Susie grins, and says, “More for me, then! I can’t wait to get to the Light World and all that food…”

Page 5

Panel 1 - Susie rests her head on the ground, and continues, “I’m gonna eat up all those humans and finally feel full!” She smiles and licks her lips at the thought. Lancer sits just nearby.

Panel 2 - Wider shot of all the beasts around the fire. Across from Susie, sitting in a loaf, Catti says “Greedy.”

“Oh come on, like you aren’t excited for the food!” Susie responds with an annoyed look.

Panel 3 - Medium shot as Catti looks up towards the dark clouds above them, grinning broadly. Behind her, Jockington also looks Skyward, his body wiggly. Catti says, “Not just that. Open skies. Sun. Fresh smells. New magic.” Jockington adds, “It’s been, way too long since we, learned a new technique!”

Catti reiterates: “Lots of things. Looking forward to them.”

Panel 4 - Wider shot as Kris turns to Monster Kid, who’s been quiet this whole time. They’re mostly buried underground, but their tail is currently out of their mouth. Kris asks them, “You’re looking forward to leaving the Dark World, too?” They reply, “Y-yeah, Kris! I wanna eat some humans too, but…also wanna be someplace niver, y’know?”

Panel 5 - Closeup on Monster Kid’s face as they continue: “Here it’s really hard to find food. And it’s so dark and cold, and e-everyone’s trying to fight each other… I hate it, yo.”

Page 6 

Panel 1 - Wide downshot of the whole Fun Gang huddled together in the empty crater. The barred landscape stretches out around them. Berdly looks to the skies, and says, “Yes, it’s true. The terrain here is so bleak and devoid of sidequests.”

Panel 2 - Closeup on Berdly as he smiles, looking excited and proud. “But if the Light World has as many humans as you say, I’ll be able to max out my volume in no time!”

Panel 3 - Susie looks away and sticks out her tongue, clearly annoyed at the prospect. “Oh goody, we’re aaaall excited for that…”

Berdly, not picking up on her sarcasm, just continues to beam proudly. “And rightfully so!”

Panel 4 - Noelle nudges her enormous nose against Kris’s back, and says, “We’re all really excited to see the Light World with you, Kris.”

Kris turns back towards her slightly, and smiles. “Me too.”

Panel 5 - Kris reaches around the fire to hand the now empty plate back to Ralsei, who takes it.

Panel 6 - Ralsei makes the plate vanish into shards of nothing with a wave of his claws. “Then let’s get some rest!” he says, satisfied.

Panel 7 - The small campfire is now extinguished. Only a thin wisp of leftover smoke rises from the blackened wood and coals.

Page 7

Panel 1 - A wide shot of the crater, still at night. With the campfire out, all of the eldritch beasts are now asleep. Monster Kid is buried underground. Catti is sleeping as a loaf, with Jockington resting on her back. Berdly sleeps with his head tucked under one wing. Susie and Noelle sleep snuggled up together, with Susie’s long tail curled around them. Kris lays nestled between them, long hair and shaggy fur serving as a makeshift bed. Ralsei stands off to the side.

Panel 2 - Medium shot of Kris. They lay awake between the two beasts, staring up at the sky. They look pensive.

Panel 3 - Slightly closer, Kris looks down and to their right. Ralsei asks from offscreen: “Kris! Are you feeling all right?”

Panel 4 - Downshot of Ralsei as he looks up towards Kris. He spreads his arms out in a hopeful gesture. “I know perhaps this isn’t the sort of birthday you would have had back home, but I was hoping I did okay on such short notice…”

Panel 5 - Closeup on Kris as they close their eyes. “I just…” They take a deep sigh.

Panel 6 - Kris looks up from the makeshift bed, looking sad. “I can’t remember the first birthday I had with mom and dad and Azzy anymore.”

Page 8 

Panel 1 - Shot of the dark skies above. Thick clouds silently roll across a starless expanse. “The whole day feels like it’s completely gone.”

Panel 2 - Wider shot, with Ralsei in the foreground. He still watches Kris carefully. “Oh, I see. I suppose Seam has asked for quite a few payments from you during your time here…perhaps you sold the memory?”

Panel 3 - Closeup on Kris as they squeeze their eyes shut, trying to block out budding tears.

Panel 4 - “Yes. Likely,” they say. Kris sadly holds up their left hand above their head. Their hand is missing the pinkie finger…another payment to Seam.

Panel 5 - Closeup on Ralsei as he looks downward. “I’m sorry, Kris.”

Panel 6 - Medium shot as Kris hugs themself, still nestled in the hair and fur. “Asriel would usually get me a book he thought I’d like, and I’d complain about it, but then read it cover to cover in one night. Once I learned how to read, anyway,” they say with a small smile.

Panel 7 - Low angle shot as Kris continues to reminisce, watching the dark clouds above. “Mom and dad also always got me a square of chocolate. I don’t know how they afforded it.”

Page 9

Panel 1 - In a flashback panel, Asriel and Kris sit across from each other outdoors, each leaning against trees. Simple woods surrounded them, and a lazy river rolls by just past them. Beyond the river are a few small homes and farms from the town. Kris holds an apple, while Asriel has a book and feather pen. Both are talking, looking happy. 

Kris speaks over the flashback: “Azzy and I would go and sit by the river in the summer, and he’d point out plants and animals and tell me to give them science names. Even when I said crass or foolish ones, he wrote them down and said he would petition to get the names changed.”

Panel 2 - Closeup on Kris as they look away, the memory still feeling a bit sad to them.

Panel 3 - Closeup on Ralsei, interested and responding to the stories. “Your brother sounds like a generous soul.”

Panel 4 - Kris looks down, still sad and reminiscing. “He didn’t have to be so nice to me. Everyone said he’d leave town and go do great things.”

Panel 5 - Another flashback panel, this time in Azzy and Kris’s shared room. It looks similar to their room in canon, but much older and more bare-bones, with simple wood walls. Kris sits on the edge of their bed, listening. Asriel sits on the edge of the bed, looking pensive, his cheek resting against his hand. 

Kris continues over the flashback: “But he…he told me that he didn’t like that pressure. That I was more fun to hang around than whatever great thing the town expected him to do.”

Page 10

Panel 1 - Closeup on Ralsei. He looks on, his tattered scarf flowing behind him. A curious smile crosses his face. “The way you have spoken about him, all this time…I am so curious to meet him.”

Panel 2 - Kris nestles down into the bed of fur and hair, and shuts their eyes, drifting off to sleep at last. They mumble, “Maybe…maybe soon.”

Panel 3 - Wide shot of all the beasts, asleep in the crater. Kris finally sleeps as well, tucked between Susie and Noelle. It’s dark, and quiet. In the foreground, Ralsei remains awake and watching, his back to the camera. It’s unknown what he’s thinking.  

[tender-rosiey]

Sharing with you because your dad series is my favorite dad gojo series.

I saw this commercial for some medication but in the background there was this dad winning a fair game to get their kid a toy. Satoru energy <3

claw machine — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: this took so much time and I STILL hate how it turned out; i am so sorry but i can't pour anymore energy into this </3 pls lets forget about it

“papa, that one please!”

satoru glances down at his son with a playful smirk, “only that one?”

your son’s face twists in thought, his tiny brows furrowing in confusion, “what do you mean?”

satoru crouches down to meet his son’s gaze, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “I mean, I could get you a loooot more, you know.”

s/n shakes his head resolutely, “don’t wanna.”

satoru’s eyes widen slightly, and he tilts his head, “really? why not?”

s/n shifts his gaze to his feet, his voice small and earnest. “mama said she wanted a new plushie, and I wanted to get her one, but…” he looks up at satoru, his voice tinged with sadness, “I can’t reach the joystick.”

satoru smiles. he lets out a gentle chuckle, his hand reaching out to pat s/n’s head reassuringly. “that’s quite the predicament,” he says hums. “how about I lift you up so you can try and win it for her?”

your son’s eyes light up but then dim, as he frowns, “and if I don’t?”

satoru’s laughter is warm and rich as he places his hands on s/n’s shoulders. “then I’ll win it for you, and you can tell mommy that you got it for her, okay?”

s/n’s face beams with happiness, and he wraps his little arms around satoru’s leg in a grateful hug. “thank you, daddy!”

satoru’s heart swells with pride as he scoops your son up with ease, his strong arms cradling him securely. “let’s get that plushie!” he declares with a grin.

"yesss!!"

as they approach the claw machine, satoru’s strides are confident, each step resonating with purpose. satoru carefully sets s/n down in front of the machine, adjusting the controls so he can reach them.

“hold on tight,” satoru quips. from his elevated position, s/n lets out an excited squeal, his voice brimming with excitement, “papa, I’m so high up!”

satoru’s grin widens as he holds s/n steadily, his arm resting protectively around him, "must be nice, huh? a day from papa's prespective?"

"what's pespecive?"

satoru pauses, "oops, nevermind."

your son shrugs before his small fingers grip the joystick with determination, his face a picture of concentration. he narrows his eyes, and a few beats pass, before he murmurs, “papa, why is it not moving?”

satoru’s laughter is soft and affectionate as he observes the scene, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “that’s because you aren’t moving the stick, s/n.”

“oh.”

s/n frowns and adjusts his grip, slowly maneuvering the joystick with newfound confidence. satoru’s chuckles were a warm backdrop to s/n’s focused effort. “that’s it, keep going! you’re doing great! my strong son!”

s/n grins happily at your husband's praise and happily presses the button.

the claw descends with a slow, dramatic movement, and your son’s face lights up with a triumphant gasp as it successfully grabs the plushie. satoru guides the claw back to the prize chute with a steady hand, while s/n starts wiggling with happiness in his arms.

“you did it, champ!” satoru cheers.

he retrieves the plushie with a flourish, holding it up for your son to see. the little boy’s eyes sparkle with joy as he clutches the stuffed toy tightly, arms flailing around in excitement, “we got it for mama!”

“we did, indeed!” satoru’s smile is warm and full of love as he pulls your son close, his arm resting protectively around him. he suggests playfully, “now let’s sneak up on her. think she’ll spot us?”

s/n giggles, his face flushed with enthusiasm, “I don’t think she will! we’re so good”

your husband's playful grin never wavers as he whispers, “you ready?”

s/n nods eagerly, “ready!”

the pair giggle amongst themselves, and satoru takes the chance to carry your son on his back which makes the him squeal. the boy clutches tightly onto the plushie and hides his face in his dad’s shoulder to conceal his giggles.

satoru spots you from the corner of his eye. he starts tiptoeing closer and closer to you, and he raises his arms slowly, finally behind your unaware form. he grins, “boo—!”

you spin around and slap your husband, sending him flying through the arcade. you snatch your son into your arms and take a defensive stance, “who the hell are you?!”

“mama, that’s papa!”

your eyes widen, and you focus more on the six feet something man that is slowly getting up from the ground. the man rubs his hand on his cheek in attempt to ease the pain. you're relieved for him to indeed be your husband.

you splutter, “satoru?! why the hell did you have your infinity off?!”

“I didn’t feel like there was any danger nearby,” he pouts, “didn’t think the danger would be my own wife!”

your husband is about to go on a lengthy monologue about the betrayal and hurt he is feeling, but your son interrupts him to beam at you, holding the plushie, “daddy and I won this just for you!”

you take the plushie, giving it a squeeze and then grinning at your son, “aww, really? this is wonderful! thank you, s/n!” you press a big kiss to your son’s cheek which makes him squeal and nuzzle his cheek against yours.

“what about me?!” your husband interjects, and you hum in mock contemplation.

“make up for me the fact that you tried scaring me, then I will think about it,” you smirk, and your husband nods with determination. you wait patiently for his next move; however, you find him standing on top of a table and taking a deep breath.

“satoru, don’t you dare—”

“I LOVE MY WIFE, Y/N GOJO!”

“I love mama too!”

“my god…”

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[chimcess]

Unparalleled || jjk

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Other tags: Idol!Jungkook, Photographer!Reader Word Count: 6.6k+ Genre:  One-shot, established relationship, PWP, long distance relationship AU, smut Synopsis: You had only met him once, a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of things, and the fact that he was on the other side of the hotel door felt surreal. Or, after being in a long-distance relationship for over a year, you and Jungkook are finally meeting up. Warnings: This is literally just porn, there’s a plot but it’s just filth, soft-dom JK, he calls reader “baby,” oral (m&f), d*ck piercing, tatted jk, jk wears glasses (the entire time), dirty talk, desperate sex, couch sex, they barely made it inside tbh, protected sex (wrap it up babes), multiple positions, light begging, light body worship, light praise, some teasing, reader cums on his face, multiple orgasms, nipple play, nipple sucking, some nipple biting, hair pulling, aftercare cuddling, sweet ending, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: I’m still getting used to writing smut, so I’m sorry if this is a bit awkward in some spots. Found this in my drafts, so I fixed it up a little bit and decided to post it. Thanks for reading.

Staring down at my fidgeting hands, I felt like the taxi was closing in on me, every tick of the clock amplifying the sense of claustrophobia. Twenty minutes felt like an eternity, dragging by as if time itself were taunting me. I stole another glance at my phone, re-reading Jungkook's last message like it was some sort of magic spell. 

Kookie: 324

It was surreal to think he was right here in California, just a short drive away, no oceans or time zones separating us. My leg bounced nervously beneath the table, the excitement swirling in my stomach like butterflies in a frenzy. Each moment felt charged with anticipation, a thrilling energy that made my heart race. I quickly typed out a response, adding a heart emoji before sending my location. Jungkook always said sharing my location made him feel closer to me, bridging the gap between our worlds, even with his whirlwind schedule that rarely left room for anything else. Being one of the biggest pop stars had a way of pulling a guy in a million directions.

I couldn’t help but smile as I recalled our first meeting. It was right after the lockdown ended, during his band’s visit to California for a concert and the Grammys. I still vividly remembered standing by the snack table, nervously clutching a half-empty cup of soda, when our eyes met for the first time. There was an electric spark in that moment, something I hadn’t realized I’d been missing. His grin was infectious, his playful nature shining through, and my heart had skipped a beat at the sound of his laughter. It echoed in my mind like a melody I wanted to play on repeat.

A few months later, we had entered a long-distance relationship, navigating the challenges of his demanding career while trying to keep our connection alive. Late-night video calls, flirty texts, and the occasional surprise visit were our lifelines, but nothing could compare to the rush of being together in the same room. And now, the thought of finally seeing him in person again sent a rush of warmth through me, a blend of hope and nervous energy that was hard to contain.

As I waited, I replayed our conversations in my mind—each one a thread weaving our lives together despite the distance. We shared dreams, fears, and whispered secrets, laying the groundwork for something beautiful and profound. The thought of being in his presence again, of feeling his warmth and the comfort of his touch, made my heart race with excitement.

I glanced at the clock again, biting my lip in anticipation. Each minute stretched into hours, the seconds crawling by. Would he still feel the same? Would our chemistry translate into real life as effortlessly as it did through screens and messages? Doubts flitted through my mind, but I shook them off, focusing on the joy of the moment. Jungkook was just a heartbeat away, and soon, I would be in his arms. The very idea sent a shiver down my spine.

My phone buzzed, startling me out of my thoughts. I scrambled to open the notification, my heart racing. If Jungkook messaged, I had to respond quickly. Our conversations were a race against time, a way to squeeze moments of connection into his packed schedule. Phone calls were our only reliable lifeline, but the language barrier complicated things. We were both trying, though Jungkook's English was much better than my Korean.

Kookie: 나는 신나요

Giggling, I typed back a response.

Y/N: 나도

Kookie: Good job, 자기~

Nothing made Jungkook happier than seeing me try to improve my Korean. He always insisted it was adorable, his smile brightening every time I stumbled through a phrase. Yoongi was usually the more honest one, quick to point out my mispronunciations, but Jungkook wore that supportive boyfriend badge with pride, even if it meant telling me little white lies.

As the taxi pulled up to the hotel, my heart raced with a mix of excitement and anxiety. I thanked the driver, tipping generously as I stepped out into the warm night air. The moment I did, the fragrant scent of blooming jasmine wafted around me, mingling with the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. I had only packed a small bag for our two-night stay, not knowing how much time we’d actually have together. Remembering that, I hurried up the steps, my footsteps echoing against the marble tiles.

The Sunset Hotel was unlike anything I’d imagined. I had envisioned a quiet, almost sleepy place, but instead, it was alive with activity. I couldn’t believe it was two in the morning; the lobby was bustling, a vibrant mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint notes of live music drifting from the bar area. The energy crackled in the air like electricity, and I felt an exhilarating rush. Yet, amidst the lively atmosphere, a wave of inadequacy washed over me. Just a few moments ago, in the taxi, I had almost forgotten about Jungkook’s status as one of the biggest pop stars in the world, but now, beneath the sparkling chandelier that cast shimmering patterns across the polished floor, it was impossible to ignore.

As I walked through the brightly lit lobby, I caught glimpses of elegantly dressed guests, their conversations animated, their laughter ringing out like musical notes. I felt like a fish out of water, dressed in a casual sundress while they flaunted designer attire. Who would have thought my years in the service industry—working late nights and juggling demanding customers—would lead me here, about to meet someone who could afford such luxury? The thought both thrilled and terrified me.

At the front desk, the staff shot me quick, assessing looks. Their eyes were sharp, as if measuring my worth in this lavish setting. One of the hosts greeted me with a forced smile that felt far too wide for comfort. “Welcome to the Sunset Hotel! How can I assist you tonight?” Their voice dripped with that practiced hospitality, but I could sense a subtle skepticism beneath the surface.

“Um, I’m here to check in,” I replied, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. I fished my phone out of my bag, ready to show them the reservation I’d made, but the host raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the computer screen as if evaluating my very presence.

“Name?” they asked, still wearing that unnaturally bright smile.

“Y/N,” I replied, and I held my breath as they typed it in. A brief moment of silence stretched between us, the bustling lobby fading into a distant murmur as I waited for their response. 

“Ah, yes! We have you right here,” they said finally, their tone shifting to one of mild surprise. “You’re the other half of 324, correct?” They looked at me again, and I could feel the weight of their judgment, as if I were a puzzle they were trying to fit into a larger picture.

“Right,” I said, attempting to keep my tone light. “Should just be for the weekend.” 

The host’s smile remained, but the glint in their eye suggested they were piecing together the details, perhaps even recognizing my connection to Jungkook. As they handed me the key card, I felt a rush of anxiety. What if they didn’t think I belonged here? What if Jungkook didn’t feel the same way about me once we were together?

I took the key, my fingers brushing against the cool surface, and turned to head toward the elevator. I was acutely aware of the looks I was receiving, a mix of curiosity and skepticism from both staff and guests alike. The air was thick with expectations, and I could almost hear the whispers in my mind, doubting whether I was truly worthy of this moment. But I pushed those thoughts aside. This was about Jungkook and me, our connection. And soon, I would be in his presence, feeling the warmth of his smile and the excitement of our reunion. 

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind me like a protective barrier from the outside world. As the car ascended, I clutched my bag, heart racing with every passing floor. This was it. In just a few moments, I would be face-to-face with the boy who had ignited something within me, and no amount of uncertainty could overshadow that truth.

I shifted from foot to foot in the cramped elevator, the anticipation eating away at me like a swarm of butterflies taking flight in my stomach. Each second felt like an eternity, stretching my nerves thinner and thinner. I took out my phone, biting back a smile as I contemplated the moment. It was so surreal that I was just a few moments away from seeing Jungkook again after what felt like an eternity apart.

In a burst of excitement, I snapped a quick picture of the elevator doors opening, the sleek metallic finish reflecting the soft glow of the lobby lights. I sent it to Jungkook with a playful caption: *“Almost there!”* Watching the little blue ticks appear, I felt a rush of warmth, knowing he’d see it almost instantly.

Once inside the elevator, I pressed the button for the third floor with a mix of hope and trepidation. It only made sense that the 300s would be located on the third floor, right? Still, the absence of any signs directing me left me feeling a bit disoriented. The elevator hummed softly, its gentle movement barely easing the whirlwind of thoughts racing through my mind.

The walls felt a bit too close, almost as if they were closing in on me, but I took a deep breath, willing myself to relax. I replayed the memories of our conversations, the laughter we shared, and the longing I felt every time we parted. The excitement pulsing through me was intoxicating, a vivid contrast to the anxious tension coiling in my chest.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my hand, jolting me out of my reverie. I glanced down, my heart skipping a beat as I saw Jungkook's name flashing on the screen. 

Kookie: I’m going to kiss you so much.

I couldn’t help but smile. I hoped kissing would be just the beginning of what would happen tonight. After a year of building up tension, I didn’t want to wait anymore. I wanted him.

Y/N: 또?

Kookie: I can’t think of it in English.

Rolling my eyes, I groaned. That was his way of avoiding a question. I knew he understood, but it amused me more than anything. Slowly, my nerves eased, and I felt more confident about seeing him, even if we were hiding away in a hotel I could never afford, lying on expensive sheets while the world outside spun with sharp eyes and curious gazes.

As the elevator dinged softly, signaling my arrival at the third floor, I felt a surge of adrenaline. The doors slid open smoothly, revealing a dimly lit hallway lined with plush carpeting and framed art pieces that whispered of elegance. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps as I moved forward. The anticipation hung in the air like a charged atmosphere before a storm, and I could almost feel Jungkook’s presence drawing me closer.

I glanced at the room numbers, scanning for his. As I walked, I imagined what it would be like to finally be face-to-face with him. Would he look the same? Would that boyish grin still light up his face when he saw me? The thought sent my heart racing as I turned a corner, catching sight of the numbers I had been searching for. 

Room 324. My breath caught in my throat, and for a fleeting moment, I hesitated, overwhelmed by a wave of nerves. What if things were different now? What if he had changed? But I quickly shook off the doubts; this was Jungkook, the boy I had laughed and shared secrets with, the one who had kept my heart fluttering even from a distance.

With a firm resolve, I approached the door, my heart pounding in rhythm with my steps. I held my breath, the moment stretching out like a taut string ready to snap. Would he answer? Would he be excited to see me? I could hardly contain the anticipation, my heart racing as I waited for that door to swing open. The air crackled with anticipation, buzzing with the weight of what was about to happen. 

I raised my hand to knock, but before my knuckles could even touch the wood, the door swung open. And there he was—Jungkook.

He was everything I remembered: pitch-black hair tousled in a way that was both effortless and enticing, metal glinting in the light, thin, silver rimmed glasses, and a thin white t-shirt clinging to his muscular frame. It felt surreal, like stepping into a vivid dream, but this was no illusion. This was real, and it took my breath away.

"You," I whispered, the word slipping out like a gasp. 

His dark eyes widened in surprise, delight flickering across his features. My heart raced as I watched him take me in, his expression shifting from uncertainty to something deeper, more intimate. Had he been waiting for this moment as much as I had? Was he just as happy as I felt?

All my doubts faded when that eyebrow, heavy with steel, raised in appreciation instead of scorn. He stepped into the hallway, and my heart pounded wildly, the space between us charged with an unspoken promise.

"You," he echoed, his voice low and husky as he took my hand in his, guiding me back into his room. 

He kicked the door shut behind him. The air thickened as he moved closer, inches separating us, electric and intoxicating. I inhaled the scent of him—soap and laundry detergent—sending shivers down my spine. A soft whimper escaped my lips, desire pooling in my stomach like a spark waiting to ignite.

With an air of confidence, he advanced, and I leaned back, the weight of his presence drawing me in like gravity. I stopped when my back hit the couch, the world outside fading away as we paused, our breaths mingling in the charged silence. My fingers, betraying me, reached up to trace the row of piercings in his eyebrow, trailing down the line of his jaw to his lips. They were soft and rosy, a striking contrast to the rough stubble that scratched my palm.

In that moment, he darted his tongue out, the pointed tip brushing against my fingers, and I moaned softly, the sound echoing in the intimate space between us, igniting the fire that had been simmering beneath the surface.

And then he was on me.

He seized my hand, guiding it into the tousled mess of hair I had longed to touch. It was softer than I had imagined, and I lost myself in it. His mouth descended on mine, a fiery torrent of passion and urgency. My body responded instinctively, arching into him as our breaths mingled, his desire palpable against my stomach, the taste of longing lingering on his lips.

His palm traced a path down my arm, firm and possessive, sliding over my shoulder and back again. He tugged at the buttons of my cardigan, peeling the fabric away to reveal the inked skin beneath. I shivered at the roughness of his touch, a thrilling contrast to the softness of his kiss.

Breaking away, I pressed my mouth against the line of his jaw, trailing wet kisses toward the piercings in his ear, letting my tongue tease them as my breath washed hot against his skin.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” He whispered against my lips.

I panted, my fingers tangling tightly in his hair.

His hands tightened around my arms, pulling us together, the weight of our bodies colliding in a desperate embrace. “Every single day,” he swore, his voice rough yet melodic. He began a slow, deliberate exploration of my neck, the heat of his tongue tracing my pulse and making me shudder. “Every night that you called me, whispering sweet nothings in that voice. It drove me insane. I just wanted to hop on a plane and have you in my lap.”

“God, I wish you would have,” I gasped, feeling the bite of his teeth just below my collarbone, a thrilling blend of pain and pleasure that made me clench around nothing. “Why didn’t you?”

“You make me nervous,” he murmured, teasing aside the cup of my bra.

He took my nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the bud with reverence. I whined in pleasure, arching into him. Emboldened, he bit down.

“Self-conscious, huh?” I teased, winded and shaking from pleasure, even as my nails dug into his back, urging him closer. “I have a hard time believing that right now.”

He pulled back, capturing my face in his strong hands, kissing me fiercely as a low growl escaped him. “Believe it.”

We kissed with a fierce intensity that made me feel like I was on fire, the heat radiating off him, his glasses pressing against my face. He shifted to remove them, but I caught his wrists, holding him in place.

“Don’t,” I growled. “I like them.”

A primal sound erupted from his chest, desperate and raw. He lifted me effortlessly, settling me against the back of the couch, our bodies grinding together, my thighs aligning perfectly with the hard heat of his jeans. Each thrust sent a new wave of pleasure surging through me, my head falling back as I teetered on the brink of ecstasy, feeling weightless and electric, consumed by a desire that felt like it could set us both ablaze.

But he caught me. Just as I was about to tumble backward into dizzying, white-hot pleasure, his arms wrapped around me, firm and unyielding, pulling me against the solid expanse of his chest. My breath came in quick, frantic gasps, my heart racing like a wild animal as I clung to him, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, drawing him closer.

“Careful, pretty girl,” he breathed into my ear, a soft murmur that sent shivers racing down my spine. I grasped at his back, fingers digging into the taut muscles, anchoring myself to him, afraid of being swept away in the tide of desire threatening to pull me under.

My hands roamed from his back, gliding over his shoulders and down his arms as he stroked his fingertips along my thighs, mapping a path from my knees to my hips and back again. His skin was warm, electric under my touch, and I traced the intricate black curls of ink adorning his pale flesh—an abstract tapestry resolving into a lion on one arm and a lamb on the other.

“You’re beautiful,” I gasped, the words spilling out before I could stop them, but he silenced me with another heated kiss. 

My fingers fumbled at the hem of his t-shirt, desperate to see what those curls of ink transformed into beneath the fabric. He shifted me closer, his grip on me unwavering, even as his hands momentarily released me to lift his arms above his head. Seizing the opportunity, I tugged at his shirt, peeling it away to reveal the canvas of his torso, the intricate lines of ink telling stories I longed to hear.

I barely had time to take in the intricate Sanskrit lines etched along his side and the lone kanji character hovering over his heart before he was lifting my shirt, pulling it over my head. For a heartbeat, I was enveloped in darkness, blinded by the fabric. My hands scrambled behind me, fumbling to unclasp my bra, and he kissed a heated trail along the bare skin of my shoulder as the straps slipped down my arms.

“I love this,” he murmured against my skin, his lips trailing softly across my collarbone, down my ribs, and back to my breast, igniting every nerve in my body. “And I love it all the more because of this.”

His tongue brushed over the small butterfly tattoo on my ribcage.

His fingers roamed lower, and when he pulled away, I let out a whimper of protest, longing for his touch. The light-headed sensation returned, reminding me just how long it had been since a man had touched me—since I’d felt filled.

I braced myself with one hand against the edge of the couch while the other tangled in his tousled hair, relishing its softness as it slipped through my fingers. His mouth found my stomach, his tongue dipping into my navel, tracing a tantalizing line toward my most sensitive spot. I gasped, an overwhelming hunger igniting deep within me. I had been yearning for this, for him, and the desperate need flooded my senses.

With deft fingers, he teased apart the button of my fly and drew down the zipper, revealing delicate black lace beneath. He licked and sucked his way to my hip, his hand lingering on my abdomen, thumb skirting under the edge of my underwear before descending lower, finally finding bare, glistening skin. When his fingers grazed my clit, pleasure surged through me, and I nearly cried out at its raw intensity.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping,” he cursed, his voice rough with desire as he buried his face against the joint of my hip and thigh.

“For you,” I groaned, my body arching instinctively. “I’ve been wet for months just thinking about you.”

A low growl escaped him, and in a blur of motion, he tore the hem of my jeans down, ripping them from my body until I was left in nothing but my panties. He pushed my naked thighs up and over his shoulders, positioning his head exactly where I craved him to be.

I struggled to contain my frantic breaths, fast and shallow, echoing my absolute need to feel his hands, his mouth, to be consumed by him entirely. He inhaled deeply, reverently, his nose brushing against the lace where my body met my thigh. The sensation sent shockwaves through me, rendering me breathless.

He wrapped one hand around my leg while the other snaked behind me, gripping my ass firmly, anchoring me as he pulled the soaked fabric aside, exposing my bare skin to his hungry gaze. His thumb descended onto my clit, and I gasped, waves of need crashing over me as pleasure radiated from his touch. I cried out, the sound escaping me like a prayer, my body arching toward him, desperate for more.

And then he kissed me, his mouth capturing my clit with an intensity that sent me spiraling.

The moans clawing their way from my chest were unrecognizable, a desperate symphony of need as I became a writhing mass of pure, unadulterated hunger. Unlatching himself, his thumb worked expertly at my clit, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through me. His tongue darted out, teasing the edges of my entrance before plunging inside, and I felt the pressure building, the storm that had been gathering finally reaching its peak until I exploded, my thighs clenching around his face as my body ignited into a searing inferno.

I teetered on the edge of ecstasy, and then I actually fell over, the world spiraling away.

When I regained awareness, I was sprawled across the back of the couch, my neck twisted awkwardly, the top of my head grazing the seat cushion. My arms draped limply above me while my thighs remained anchored to his shoulders. He gazed down at me, a mixture of curiosity and satisfaction etched across his face, his mouth glistening—a testament to our fervor.

With a wicked smirk, he wiped his mouth with his forearm, leaving me in my awkward state as he peeled my panties down my body, rendering me completely exposed and unable to rise. His finger glided along my opening, my body still thrumming with aftershocks from one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever experienced. When he dipped gently inside, I gasped.

“Is this what you want, Y/N? My hands inside you?” 

I found myself ensnared in a whirlwind of emotions; I craved this intimacy with him more than anything, yet it felt like just a fragment of the whole picture. The sensation of his fingers deep within me was intoxicating, but beneath that, there lingered a yearning for more—more than just his hands. I ached for him—his body hovering over mine, the heat radiating from him as I traced the ink etched across his skin, my tongue teasing the silver piercings that adorned him.

“Yes. No. God, I want you,” I gasped, my voice a mixture of longing and desperation.

He raised a pierced eyebrow, still kneeling before me, his fingers buried deep inside me. “Want your cock.”

“You want this dick?” he asked, his tone both teasing and serious.

“Yes,” I panted, the word slipping out as both a plea and a command.

“Where?” 

I knew exactly where I wanted him; the desire burned brightly within me. “Everywhere. My hand. My mouth. My pussy. Just… everywhere.” 

A low growl escaped him, reverberating through my body, raw and hungry. But just as quickly, his fingers slipped away, leaving me aching and empty. He gripped my hips, securing me against him and the back of the couch, rising to slide my slick core against the hard line of his body. The urgency of his arousal pressed against me, igniting a fire within. 

He leaned down, gathering me into his arms, kissing me with such fervor that I felt dizzy, his hardness grinding against me—a promise of what was to come.

I pushed him away gently, his expression shifting to one of confusion, but all I needed was a moment to slide off the couch and drop to my knees. He groaned as I ran my nose along the thick outline of him through his jeans, feeling him twitch in response to my teasing. With trembling hands, I tugged his pants and boxers down, revealing him—long, thick, and glistening with anticipation.

The chrome piercing at the tip caught the light, gleaming enticingly. 

Looking up, I found him hovering above me, his body bared save for those damn glasses. His intense gaze locked onto mine, a silent plea reflected in his brown eyes. “Y/N,” I breathed, letting my warm breath wash over the tip of him. He groaned, his fingers tangling in my hair, urging me forward.

“God, I want to feel your mouth on me,” he implored, igniting a wild hunger within me. 

I opened my mouth, eager and wet, my lips closing around the head of him, my tongue tracing the underside, the cool metal against warm flesh sending shivers down my spine. 

“Y/N.”

I pulled away before I could take him too deep, trailing my mouth down his length, savoring every moment as I buried my nose into the soft hair at the base of him. He was practically whimpering, and I couldn’t resist the urge to pump him twice with my hand, the slickness gliding over him before I took him into my mouth, relaxing my throat to envelop him. Yet even with all my efforts, I couldn’t fit him completely, and I rubbed my thighs together, craving the moment he would finally fill me.

I moved my mouth up and down his length, achingly slow, feeling the tension coiling within him, his hips twitching, restrained. He wanted to thrust, to take control, but I held him back, guiding his movements while keeping him still. I could sense his legs trembling, teetering on the edge, so I pulled off, leaving him panting, his length throbbing, a testament to our shared desire.

Kissing the sharp bone of his hip, I pulled his pants the rest of the way down as he kicked off his shoes, the fabric sliding away like a whisper in the night. Just as I was about to toss the jeans aside, he stopped me, his voice low and husky. “Back pocket.”

Curiosity piqued, I glanced up at him through narrowed eyes and retrieved the little foil package from his back pocket. I noticed at least two more tucked away, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had remarkable recovery time or if he was planning a very long weekend with me. Both notions sent a thrilling rush coursing through me

I held the condom up between two of my fingers. Jungkook snatched the package from me, tearing it open with a deft motion, rolling it over his cock from tip to base. He pressed his sheathed length against my hip, our bodies brushing together with a desperation that left me breathless.

“Turn,” he commanded, gently pushing at my shoulder. I obeyed, and his hands shoved me down, bending me from the waist, positioning my elbows on the back of the couch. When he was satisfied with my submission, he settled his hands firmly on my shoulder blades, a searing presence that felt as though it might melt through my skin, branding me with his touch.

His hands glided down my sides, over my ribs and hips, finally settling on my ass, rubbing it appreciatively. The edges of his fingers grazed my lips, parting them, and I jerked backward, feeling the heat of his cock resting against my back.

“Wider, baby,” he cooed, his fingers sliding over my trembling thighs. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the rush of sensation, and obeyed, spreading my legs for him. His knees bent between mine, the tip of his cock gliding tantalizingly from my clit to my entrance, brushing against me but not penetrating.

“Please, Jungkook,” I panted, desperation clawing at my throat as I felt myself teetering on the edge of begging.

Even he found himself pleading. “Please let me inside you,” he whispered, his length teasingly tracing my wet flesh, dipping slightly to part my lips but not filling the aching void within me.

“Yes,” I groaned, finally feeling the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, slipping into me inch by glorious inch. Nothing had ever felt this intense. “Fuck, yes,” I moaned, his grip hot and possessive at my hip while the other hand cradled the back of my neck, steadying me.

It was maddening not being able to move, even though all I wanted was to rock back and pull him deeper. 

My body stretched as he pushed forward, achingly slow until he was fully seated within me, his hips flush against my backside. I gasped as he filled me completely. The sensation was electrifying, and I felt him rock back slightly before surging forward again, the combination of his length and the hot tip of metal against my walls making my eyes roll.

“Please,” I urged, my mantra of ‘yes’ and ‘fuck me’ spiraling from my lips as he finally began to thrust with abandon, our bodies locked in a passionate dance. 

He tightened his grip on my hip, the other hand sliding to the middle of my back, pushing down. I could feel his movements becoming erratic, less steady—so close to coming inside me.

But I didn’t want it to end like this. Not after all this time. 

“No, stop,” I breathed, the words barely escaping my lips before he froze, a pained sound erupting from him like a wounded animal.

“Please, Jesus, Y/N, you can’t—”

I glanced over my shoulder at him, squeezing him tightly inside me. The resulting moan from his throat sent a jolt of electricity through my body. The rejection and frustration etched across his face twisted my heart. “After all this time missing you,” I whispered, locking eyes with him, “I need to see you. I need to see you come.”

In an instant, he withdrew, turning my body roughly until I felt the couch pressing against me once more. Supporting my back with one hand, he parted my thighs with fierce urgency, stepping into them and plunging back inside me. I screamed, the sound echoing through the empty corners of the room.

His face was close to mine as he began to move again, quick, short thrusts finding a new rhythm. Our sweaty brows collided, the metal hoops of his piercings scratching my skin, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. His name spilled from my lips as we captured each other in another fiery kiss, a moment so intense I thought I could lose myself entirely in the swirl of our bodies, his ink swirling around us like dark tendrils of smoke.

His patience began to fray as he kissed me harder, his body pressing into mine with more urgency. I felt the fiery bloom of pleasure building again, hot and electric, and I craved him hard and fast—a deep connection stripped of all restraint.

He must have sensed my need, too, as he quickened his pace. “Hold on, baby,” he instructed, and I complied, wrapping my arms and legs around him tightly. I let him brace himself against the back of the couch as he drove into me, his pubic bone hitting my clit with each thrust, the metal piercing hitting deep within me making me mewl.

“I’m coming, Y/N. Fuck,” he moans, the raw desperation in his voice igniting something primal within me. 

His face contorts in a beautiful, twisted expression of pleasure, each thrust deeper, harder, as if he’s trying to etch this moment into my very soul. The intensity of his words washes over me like a tidal wave, pulling me into a realm of oblivion. My body pulses in rhythm with his, a white-hot light flashing behind my closed eyes, merging with the vision of him—so fully present in my arms, lost in the sheer ecstasy we’ve created together.

As the world around us faded, time seemed to suspend, leaving only the two of us in a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. I could feel the weight of our shared moments pressing against us, every sensation amplified in the silence that enveloped the room. Slowly, we began to come back to ourselves, his body still pressed against mine, a gentle reminder of the electrifying connection we had just shared. The feeling of him lingering inside me sent shivers down my spine, and our breaths intertwined in a rhythm that was both calming and exhilarating.

We exchanged soft kisses, each one delicate and filled with unspoken promises, contrasting the raw passion that had ignited between us moments before. It was a tender kind of intimacy, one that held the power to ground us in a whirlwind of emotions. 

After a moment, he pulled away, slipping out of me with a reluctance that made my heart ache just a little. The sudden emptiness was palpable, a gentle reminder of the closeness we had just experienced. Jungkook reached for the condom, his movements careful and deliberate, disposing of it in the wastebasket beside the couch. When he turned back to me, the soft glow of the room caught the contours of his face, illuminating him in a way that made him look almost ethereal.

“You’re really here,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the magic of the moment.

“I’m here,” I replied, unable to suppress the grin that broke across my face. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and this moment felt surreal.

Jungkook walked back over to the couch, his gaze roaming over my features as if he were trying to memorize every detail. “You look even better than I remembered,” he said, his smile soft and genuine, lighting up his eyes.

“And you look exhausted,” I teased, noticing the faint shadows under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and busy days.

He laughed, the sound brightening the room and melting away any remnants of anxiety I had carried with me. “It’s been a crazy week, but seeing you makes it all worth it.”

A smile broke across my face, the tension of the past months finally beginning to dissolve. For the first time since I had arrived, I took in my surroundings. The room felt both elegant and cozy, drenched in soft light, with tasteful decor that radiated warmth. A large bed dominated the space, its crisp white sheets looking impossibly inviting, and I found myself wishing we could make our way over there. It seemed far more comfortable than the couch.

“How was your flight?” Jungkook asked, bending down to plant a gentle kiss on my forehead, sending warmth flooding through me.

“Long,” I admitted. “But I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited.” The truth was, anticipation had been buzzing in my veins like electricity ever since I’d set foot on the plane.

He settled next to me on the couch, his hand finding mine, our fingers intertwining in a way that felt instinctive. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said, his thumb tracing small patterns on my skin, making my heart flutter in response.

“I’ve missed you too,” I replied, squeezing his hand tightly. “It feels like forever.”

We fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the city lights twinkling outside like a constellation trapped within a glass jar. The reality of being here with him began to sink in, settling deep in my bones. No more video calls with choppy connections or hurried texts exchanged amid the chaos of our lives—just us, flesh and blood, finally in the same place.

Breaking the quiet, Jungkook’s tone turned serious, slicing through the warmth that enveloped us. “How are you holding up? I know it’s been tough.”

I took a deep breath, weighing my response. “It’s been hard,” I admitted, the truth heavy on my tongue. “But knowing we’d have this, even just a couple of days, kept me going.” 

He nodded, understanding etched on his face. “It’s the same for me. The craziness of the tour and the constant traveling—it’s all worth it knowing I get to see you.”

His words wrapped around me like a warm blanket on a cold night, soothing my weary soul. We talked for hours, drifting through a sea of conversation that felt both substantial and light, catching up on everything and nothing. His stories from the tour spilled out with infectious excitement, his eyes alight like fireflies in the dark. I shared my own experiences, and with every word, the distance between us began to melt away until it felt like the space of a single breath.

Eventually, exhaustion crept in like a gentle shadow, heavy yet comforting. Jungkook stood up and held out his hand, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “Come on,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Let’s move to the bed. It’s way more comfortable.”

I took his hand, allowing him to guide me across the room. The large bed loomed before us, inviting and cozy, the crisp white sheets beckoning like a sanctuary. As we settled into the plush comfort, I felt a wave of contentment wash over me, a feeling that we were finally exactly where we were meant to be. We lay side by side, fingers intertwined like threads in a tapestry, the world outside fading into a dull hum, the city’s chaos a distant memory.

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER FIVE ━━ Happy Halloween

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.8K

☆ ━ warnings: beau being a dick, vaping, dani’s still depressed as shit, like idk

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: i’m sorry this chapter is so messy and all over the place it’s lowkey my least favorite so far, but good things are coming i promise!!!!

HIS MOUTH presses against hers with an intensity that makes Dani stiffen. Beau kisses her with a hunger that she doesn’t feel, his hands cupping her face, fingers in her hair, deepening it. His lips are rough, insistent, like he’s trying to draw something out of her that she doesn’t want to give.

Dani kisses him back because she knows she should. She tries to match his urgency, his need. But it feels all wrong, like she’s wearing someone else’s skin. Her heart isn’t in the kiss, isn’t with Beau at all. It drifts to other places—another person—and she can’t shake the growing discomfort building in her chest.

Beau’s hands roam lower, sliding from her face to her waist, gripping her hips firmly as he presses closer. The position is uncomfortable in the small confines of his car, and she shifts slightly. She thinks he takes that as an invitation, because he moves closer, his mouth trailing from her lips to her neck, kissing a path down to her collarbone, closer to her chest. The top she’s wearing leaves little to the imagination there, and he seems to like that. Dani’s breath hitches, body tensing. She isn’t here. She doesn’t want this.

But Beau doesn’t pay attention to the way her body recoils. He doesn’t notice how she stiffens under his touch. He’s too focused on his own need, his mouth feverish against her skin as he starts fumbling with the button of her jeans, eager to go further.

“Beau, stop,” Dani says softly, voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t stop. His hands are moving too fast, his breath hot and uneven against her neck as he presses harder to her.

“Beau, stop,” she repeats, more forceful this time, her hands pushing at his chest.

He ignores her, his hand still tugging at her jeans, more urgent now. “You can’t just keep doing this. We haven’t—” He pulls back just enough to look at her, frustration written all over his face. “You barely even let me kiss you anymore. What’s the point of us if you’re just gonna shut down every time I try to get close?”

She slaps at his hand now, and he finally retracts it. “I said stop,” she mumbles, breath quickening.

Beau sits back in his seat, his face darkening slightly. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Jesus Christ, Dani. What the hell is your problem? We haven’t fucked in weeks. You won’t even touch me, and now this? What, do you not even want me anymore?” His voice grows louder, harsher with each word.

Dani stares at him, her chest tight, her hands trembling in her lap. She doesn’t have the words to explain it to him, can’t tell him how disgusted she feels with herself every time they’re together. How she feels like she’s living a lie, forcing herself into a relationship she doesn’t want, creating a life that isn’t meant to be hers. But all she can manage is a weak, “I just… I don’t feel like it, okay? Can’t you respect that?”

“Respect that?” Beau’s eyes narrow, and he scoffs, shaking his head. “How the hell am I supposed to respect that when you don’t give me anything to work with? I’ve been patient, Dani. I’ve tried to give you space. But I’m not one of your fucking Catholic saints. I have needs, too.”

Dani winces at his words, feeling the sting of guilt and shame twist in her stomach. She hates this, hates the way he makes it sound like she’s failing him by not being able to give him what he wanted. But at the same time, she hates herself more for letting it get this far—for pretending she can be someone she’s not.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry, okay? I just—”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Beau snaps, cutting her off. “I’ve been dealing with your bullshit for weeks now, Dani. You’re distant, you’re cold, you won’t even look me in the eyes half the time. If this is how it’s gonna be, then maybe we shouldn’t go to the Halloween party together tomorrow. Hell, maybe you shouldn’t come at all.”

Dani’s throat tightens, and she feels the hot prickle of tears burning behind her eyes. “Beau, I—”

“No.” His voice is sharp, final. “You need to figure your shit out. Because I can’t keep doing this.” He unlocks the car doors, staring at her expectantly. “Get out.”

Dani blinks, stunned, thinking she may have misheard. “What?”

“Get out of the car.” His eyes are hard, cold. “If you’re gonna be like this, then just… go. Walk home. Maybe that’ll give you time to think about what you really want.”

“Are you serious?” Dani’s snaps, looking at him in disbelief. They’re parked in some random lot, miles away from her house. It’s dark, and she has no way of getting home except by walking. She can’t even call someone to come pick her up, because her phone died a little bit ago.

“I said get out,” Beau repeats, his voice like ice.

Dani swallows hard, before scoffing, opening the passenger door. She steps out into the chilly night air, and, immediately, she wishes she brought a jacket, the small cropped shirt she’s got on not doing anything to shield the cold.

Before she can say anything else, Beau reaches over and slams the door shut from the inside. He speeds off, leaving her standing alone in the dark parking lot, the distant sound of his car’s engine fading into the night.

The silence around her is deafening. Dani stands frozen for a moment, her arms wrapped around herself as the cold wind bites at her skin. She blinks back the tears that blur her vision, the ones she desperately tried to keep in so that he couldn’t see them, her mind racing with thoughts of everything that led her to this moment.

She wants to scream. To sob. To fall apart. But there’s no one here to see it, no one to hear her.

With a deep, shuddering breath, she starts walking.

PAIGE’S HANDS lazily hold the steering wheel as she drives down the empty, dim lit street, the hum of her car’s engine and the quiet voice of Drake the only sounds to keep her company. She’s just left Thaliah’s house after a low-key night spent playing Fortnite, and she’s thankful now that she finally has her license—no more relying on her friends or her dad for rides. The freedom is nice, the kind of feeling she’s been craving for a while.

As she continues driving along the road, something flickers at the edge of her vision, pulling her from her thoughts. A figure. A lone person walking down the sidewalk. Paige furrows her brows as she drives past, the figure just barely visible under the faint glow of the streetlamp. She turns her head a little, squinting as she stares at her side mirrors. All she really sees from that view is long hair blowing in the wind. A girl. It’s late—after midnight—and what girl would be stupid enough to be walking alone at this time?

Paige’s mind runs through the possibilities, but something gnaws at her. The silhouette looked familiar, like someone she knows. Someone with a very specific walk, a hunched posture, a familiar dip of the head, long hair…

No way. No fucking way.

She’s driven past already, but the doubt lingers in her mind, tugging at her. Paige’s hands hover over the wheel, her foot still on the gas as she debates with herself. But her gut is screaming—if it had vocal chords, they would be shredded by now. Because if it’s who she thinks it is, she can’t just leave it alone. She can’t ignore it.

With a frustrated groan, Paige quickly makes a sharp U-turn to go back the way she came. The street is dead silent, save for the crunch of her tires on the pavement. As she nears the figure again, her heart rate speeds up. Please don’t let it be her. Please don’t let it be Dani.

But as she slows down, pulling up alongside the sidewalk, her breath catches in her throat. She should’ve known all along, shouldn’t have even questioned herself. Because consciously, subconsciously, in any way possible—Paige always knows Dani. She can pick her out in any crowd, so doing it on a deserted street isn’t so hard. And she’s very right, because this is Dani. Walking alone. And it’s cold as hell out, too. She’s wearing nothing but ripped jeans and a cropped t-shirt. What the fuck is she doing?

Paige slows to a stop, rolling down the passenger window. Dani immediately stiffens, her head whipping toward the car, eyes wide. Paige leans over, her voice cutting through the silence.

“Dani, what’re you doing?” she asks, her voice sharp with concern and an edge of accusation.

Dani stares at her in disbelief, her brows knitting together in surprise. “Fuck, I thought you were some old man about to kidnap me,” she mutters, wrapping her arms around herself as a gust of wind whips through the air.

Paige rolls her eyes, the tension easing from her chest just a bit. “No, I’m not gonna kidnap you,” she says flatly. “But someone else fucking might. Get in the car.”

Dani hesitates, her gaze flicking between Paige and the road ahead. Her lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, Paige thinks she might refuse. There’s a tension in Dani’s stance, a stubbornness that Paige knows all too well.

“Dani, seriously,” Paige presses, her tone firm, leaving no room for argument. “It’s freezing out. I’m not leaving you out here alone.”

Dani sighs, a puff of visible breath in the chilly air, before muttering, “Fine.” She reaches for the door handle, and with a click, the door swings open, and Dani slides into the passenger seat.

Paige immediately turns the heat up, casting a quick glance at Dani. Her arms are crossed, her shoulders hunched, and Paige can see her shivering, despite the attempt to seem unbothered. Paige’s chest tightens with concern as she wonders what the hell could’ve happened to land Dani in this situation.

For a few moments, the car is filled with an awkward silence, broken only by the sound of the heater kicking in. Paige tries to focus on the road, but her mind races with a million questions on why Dani’s out here in the first place, why she was walking all alone in the dark as a teenager girl that most certainly could not defend herself should a kidnapper find her.

“What were you doing out there?” Paige finally asks, her voice more gentle this time, though still laced with concern. “Why are you out this late by yourself?”

Dani shakes her head, her eyes fixed on the dashboard in front of her. “It’s nothing,” she mumbles, her voice flat, detached.

Paige frowns, tightening her grip on the wheel. “It’s not nothing. It’s past midnight, and you’re walking around in the cold like it’s the middle of the day. What happened?” she presses, sending a glance at her ex-best friend.

Dani stays silent for a moment, then scoffs lightly, turning to look at Paige. “When’d you get your license? I thought you couldn’t drive?”

Paige rolls her eyes, biting back her frustration. “Don’t change the subject, Dani.”

Dani shifts in her seat, clearly uncomfortable, her arms tightening around her body like she’s trying to make herself smaller. “Just… drop it, Paige,” she replies, dismissive.

Paige exhales sharply, shifting her eyes over at her again. Dani’s walls are up, higher than ever. It isn’t like her to be this closed off with Paige. Or, at least, it hadn’t been like this before… before everything went sideways between them. No matter how much she hates it, Paige supposes she should get used to it—this is their new normal, after all.

“I’m not dropping it,” Paige shoots back, keeping her voice steady. “Not when I find you walking around alone at night looking like…” She trails off, unsure how to finish that sentence without pushing too far.

Dani’s jaw clenches. “Like what?” she snaps, her eyes flashing with an edge of anger.

“Like you’re not okay,” Paige says, softer now, her eyes darting between Dani and the road. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

Dani lets out a harsh breath, her fingers digging into her arms as she stares out the window. “I’m fine, Paige. Seriously.”

Paige doesn’t buy it for a second. Not with the way Dani’s sitting there, tense and cold and distant and—no matter how much she tries to hide it—vulnerable.

“Fine? Really? Because it sure doesn’t look like it,” Paige mutters. She knows she’s walking a fine line—at this point, Paige is probably the last person Dani wants to open up to right now, and pushing her too hard could make her shut down even more. But Paige can’t just sit there and pretend like everything is okay when it clearly isn’t.

Dani shakes her head again, more forcefully this time. “I’m fine. I just—” She cuts herself off, biting her lip, like she doesn’t even believe her own words.

Paige isn’t sure what it is, but something about Dani’s demeanor—the way she’s hunched over, trying to make herself disappear—makes her feel sick. Dani’s so different from the girl Paige used to know. Something’s wrong. Something’s been wrong for months now.

“Did Beau do something?” Paige asks quietly. It’s probably not the long term issue, the reason for the girl’s whole switch up, but Paige thinks it damn well could be the reason Dani’s in this situation tonight—and the thought makes the blonde’s stomach sick.

Dani stiffens immediately at the name. That reaction tells Paige everything she needs to know.

Nonetheless, Dani’s laugh is bitter, a sharp sound that cuts through the quiet car. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

Paige’s heart drops, her pulse quickening. “Dani…”

But Dani turns her head away, staring out the window like she can’t bear to look at Paige anymore. “Just drive me home, okay?”

Paige hesitates, her throat tight, but eventually, she nods, pressing her foot down on the gas. The tension in the car is palpable, and Paige hates it—hates the silence, hates the distance between them. But she feels like she’s exhausted all she can do to try and repair it between them, so she leaves it be, and turns up the music just slightly.

The road stretches out ahead, leading them back toward their neighborhood, toward the familiarity of home. But as the houses grow closer, Paige can’t shake the feeling that something is just deeply wrong. And this isn’t just about tonight. It isn’t just about Dani walking alone in the dark.

This is about everything that’s happened between them—everything that’s changed since Dani was sent to that camp over the summer. Since Dani had come back different. Closed off. Dani hasn’t been the same since she returned, and even though Paige doesn’t know the full story—well, doesn’t even know an ounce of if, actually—she can still feel the weight of it.

Paige glances over at Dani once more, but Dani’s back to staring out the window, her arms still wrapped tightly around herself. In spite of everything, Dani’s still shivering, and Paige knows it’s not from the cold—the heat has surrounded her car by now. It’s about everything else.

They turn down their street, the familiar houses coming into view, bathed in the soft glow of porch lights. Paige can see her house up ahead, just a few doors down from Dani’s. Normally, this is where they’d share a goodbye, a see-you-later. But nothing is normal anymore.

Paige slows as they near Dani’s house, and for a moment, she considers just pulling into her own driveway, since their houses are right next to each other. But something stops her. Even if they live right next door, this still feels different. Dani needs more from her than just a quick drop-off. Paige needs to make sure Dani knows she’s not alone, even if she can’t fix whatever’s going on.

So, she pulls into Dani’s driveway instead, parking right next to Dani’s car. Paige’s car idles for a second, the engine’s soft hum the only sound between them. Paige shifts in her seat, looking over at Dani, who still hadn’t moved.

“You’re home,” Paige says quietly, breaking the silence.

Dani finally tears her eyes away from the window and sets her eyes on Paige, her expression guarded, tired. For a second, Paige thinks Dani’s just going to get out without a word, like every other time they’ve had one of these stilted, painful interactions. But then, Dani surprises her.

Dani shifts in her seat, turning slightly so she can look at Paige more directly. Her eyes soften, just for a moment, as she holds the blonde’s gaze. “Thank you,” she says quietly, her voice low but sincere. “For picking me up.”

Paige blinks, caught off guard by the sudden change in Dani’s tone. There’s no anger, no sarcasm, no bitterness in her voice. It’s raw, earnest. And for the first time in what feels like forever, Paige sees a glimpse of the old Dani—the one who didn’t have walls up between them. The one who trusted her.

Paige nods, unable to find her voice for a second. “Yeah. Of course,” she manages to say, her heart aching at how much she misses that side of Dani. The side that isn’t buried under layers of pain and fear.

Dani lingers for a moment, her eyes searching Paige’s face, like there’s something she wants to say but can’t find the words. Then, without another word, she reaches for the door handle and steps out of the car. Paige watches as Dani walks toward her front door, her shoulders hunched against the cold, but there’s something softer in her movements now. Something less defensive.

Paige stays in the car, watching as Dani unlocks her door and steps inside, the porch light flickering off as the door clicks shut behind her. The house swallows her up, and Paige is left sitting there in the quiet, her mind racing with everything that’s just happened.

It isn’t much. A simple thank you. But it’s the first real crack in the wall Dani’s built between them, and Paige can’t help but hold on to that. Maybe it’s a start.

She sighs softly, leaning back in her seat for a moment before putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the driveway. As she makes her way back to her own house, just a few yards away, Paige can’t shake the feeling that things are far from okay between them. But for the first time in a long time, she feels like maybe there’s hope.

And for now, that’s enough.

PAIGE SITS cross-legged on Thaliah’s bed, absentmindedly picking at the hem of her shirt, while Jalen lounges next to her, scrolling through his phone. Both of them are already dressed in their costumes, though neither put in much effort. Paige went the simple route—she’s wearing an old basketball jersey with some fake blood smeared across her face, playing the part of some sort of dead or zombie hooper—she doesn’t even really know herself, if she’s honest. Jalen wears a black hoodie and he’s got a plastic scythe, calling himself the Grim Reaper. Basic, but effective.

Thaliah, on the other hand, is still in front of her vanity, meticulously applying the finishing touches to her makeup. She’s going all out, dressed as a witch, complete with dramatic eye shadow, dark lipstick, and glitter cascading along her cheekbones. Her hair is done up in some complicated updo, and Paige is sure Thaliah will be the best dressed person at the party. As usual.

Paige leans back, resting on her hands, eyes distant as she vents, her voice low but agitated. “I just don’t get it. Like, why the hell would Dani even doing out there last night? Alone? She was walking by herself literally at twelve-thirty, J. She could’ve gotten kidnapped or murdered or—or something!” Her voice wavered with frustration and disbelief, and she glances at Jalen, hoping he’ll give some sort of input.

Jalen shrugs a little, tossing his phone aside and turning toward her. His brows are furrowed in the way they are only when he’s concerned. “Yeah, it’s fuckin’ weird, P. Did you ask her what happened?”

Paige lets out a sigh, her frustration evident. “Of course I did. She just brushed it off, said it was ‘nothing’—like that’s supposed to make me feel better about it.” She throws her hands up in the air, expressing the confusion she’s feeling. “And I swear, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. She was, like, literally freezing and she looked so sad and I’m just like—what the hell happened?”

Thaliah, still working on her eyeliner, chimes in from the vanity, not looking up but clearly listening. “Dani’s been distant for months, Paige. It’s been off ever since she got back from camp. I don’t think it’s just about last night. Something’s been wrong for a while now.”

Paige nods, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her jersey. “I know. But last night just made it so much more real. I feel like—I don’t know—I feel like something happened. Maybe it was Beau. Maybe he did something to her.”

At that, Jalen’s eyes narrow slightly. He’s always quick to jump to conclusions when it comes to Beau Hudson, a guy that he’s had problems with for years now. “You think he hurt her? I mean, he is the type.”

Paige bites her lip, her mind racing with the possibilities. “I don’t know. Maybe? It’s not like Dani would tell me, though. She doesn’t talk to me anymore.”

There’s a long pause as all three of them sit in the heavy silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on them. They’s all thinking the same thing—what the hell happened to Dani? The girl they all knew so well has practically disappeared, replaced by someone colder, someone more distant, someone more shallow.

Thaliah finally puts down her eyeliner, spinning around in her chair to face them. “Something’s definitely up with her. But I don’t think it’s Beau that’s the main problem. I mean, she started acting like this before she and that bitch boy got together. Paige, I know you weren’t here when it happened, but she started dating Beau after she cut J and I off,” Thaliah points out, staring at the pair of her friend son the bed expectantly. But then she sighs, shaking her head, adding, “But if she’s not talking, what are we supposed to do? Just keep watching her spiral and probably ruin her life? Like, I don’t even know.”

Paige clenches her jaw, her mind racing with the memory of Dani walking along that dark sidewalk, looking so alone, so vulnerable. “I don’t want to just sit back and do nothing.” But she knows Thaliah is right—there’s really not much they can do if Dani won’t give them the light of day.

Thaliah shakes her head a little before standing up and moving toward her bed, where Paige and Jalen sit. She grabs her vape off the nightstand and takes a long drag, blowing the smoke out in a cloud that lingers in the air before dissipating. “Look, Dani’s been different for a while, but we can’t fix it tonight. We can’t fix her tonight.”

Paige frowns, her stomach sinking at those words. Fix her. It isn’t like Dani’s broken, but she isn’t herself either. Still, she understands what Thaliah is saying. She just doesn’t like it.

Thaliah hands the vape to Paige, raising her eyebrows when Paige hesitates before taking it. “C’mon, you need to relax. It’s Halloween. We’re supposed to be having fun, not stressing out over all this. Dani’s a tomorrow problem.”

Paige rolls her eyes but accepts the vape anyway, taking a small hit and handing it back. The familiar burn fills her lungs for a moment before she exhales, watching the smoke curl up toward the ceiling. “I just hate that we don’t know what’s going on with her.”

Jalen sits up straighter, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ll figure it out, P. We just have to give her time. Maybe tonight, she’ll show up at the party, and we can talk to her then.”

Thaliah shakes her head, leaning back against her vanity. “Doubt it. She’s been avoiding us for weeks. Even if she shows, it’ll be with Hudson and that prissy Serena girl, and it’ll end in shit like it did last time.”

Paige knows Thaliah’s probably right. They’ve gone to the same parties a couple times since school started, and each time, Dani stays closed to Beau Hudson and Serena Corren’s sides, not bothering to give any attention to Paige. The odds of her suddenly showing up and deciding to speak to them at tonight’s Halloween thing seems slim. Still, Paige can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, Dani will surprise her.

Thaliah takes another drag from the vape before offering it back to Paige, who takes another hit, letting the smoke relax her nerves just a bit. “But seriously,” Thaliah says as she exhales, “tonight’s about us. Let’s just have fun, forget about all the drama, and worry about Dani tomorrow. It’s Halloween! We deserve a good night.”

Paige smiles faintly, nodding. Thaliah’s right. Tonight is supposed to be fun. Maybe she can take a break from worrying for one night. Maybe.

And, she thinks maybe she really actually can, because the party does turn out to be fun. It’s a lot different from the last party she went to, the one where she drank herself stupid and fought Beau Hudson. She doesn’t regret the second part… just thinks she could’ve found a better way to do it. But tonight, she’s the designated driver, meaning she’s sticking to her Sprite, laying off the alcohol. But it doesn’t really matter. She doesn’t need to drink to have fun with her friends—especially on Halloween.

The house is decked out for Halloween—fake spider webs hanging from the ceiling, carved pumpkins in every corner, and purple lights casting shadows along the walls. Most people are dressed in costumes, though a lot are half-assed like Paige and Jalen’s. Paige gets a laugh out of a guy dressed in a banana costume, dancing on a table, though.

Eventually, Paige, Jalen, and Thaliah settle in the living room, perching on the couches and standing with some of their other friends from school and basketball and such. It’s easy, it’s fun, the atmosphere is lively but not chaotic. Paige enjoys it.

That is, until out of the corner of her eye, she spots them.

Beau Hudson, Serena Corren, and the rest of that group Dani’s been hanging around with lately are clustered near the kitchen, laughing and talking amongst themselves. Paige’s stomach tightens, her eyes scanning the group for one specific person. Dani. But as she searches, she realizes with a sinking feeling that Dani isn’t here.

Paige narrows her eyes slightly, confused. Dani’s always with them—whenever Beau and his friends show up to a party, the girl’s practically glued to his side. But tonight, she’s nowhere around.

Paige glances over at Thaliah, who’s too busy chatting with some girls to notice her. So, the blonde taps Jalen on the shoulder, nodding toward Beau and his friends. “Hudson’s here,” she acknowledges.

Jalen follows her gaze, rolling his eyes. “Dick,” he mutters, his disdain for the quarterback evident. He stares at the group for a second longer before Paige watches a familiar flicker of confusion cross along his face. “Dani’s not with ‘em?”

Paige shakes her head, mind racing. It’s so weird. Ever since Dani started dating Beau, they‘be been almost inseparable, especially at parties like this. But now, Dani just… gone. And it doesn’t sit right with Paige. Especially not after what happened last night.

However, before she can dwell on it too long, nature calls. She needs to pee. Paige stands up, muttering something to Jalen about finding the bathroom. As she makes her way through the crowded house, her mind stays locked on the thought of the Callan girl. Maybe Paige is just being dramatic. Maybe Dani is here and she just hasn’t seen her and she’s worrying for no reason.

When she finally finds the hallway leading to the bathroom, she groans. There’s a line.

And the person standing at the back of the line? None other than Beau Hudson himself.

Paige’s eyes narrow as she approaches, trying to play it casual. She leans against the wall, taking Thaliah’s vape out of her pocket and bringing it to her lips. She inhales, letting the vapor fill her lungs as she stares at the back of Beau’s head. He hasn’t noticed her yet, so she waits a beat before speaking.

“Dani here?” she asks, her tone nonchalant.

Beau turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder at her. His expression is somewhere between annoyed and smug, like he can’t be bothered with her question. “Nope,” he replies shortly, turning back to face the bathroom door as if that’s the end of the conversation.

But Paige isn’t done. She presses, “How come?”

Beau scoffs, a low, bitter sound that grates on Paige’s nerves. “You’re fuckin’ nosy, Bueckers,” he mutters, barely looking at her.

Paige raises an eyebrow, not backing down. “Well, when it comes to Dani, yeah. I am.” Her voice is sharp, but controlled. She isn’t about to let him dismiss her like that.

Beau finally turns to face her fully, his expression twisted with irritation. “Why do you care, anyway? You’re not even friends anymore.”

Paige clenches her jaw, holding his gaze. “Doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

For a moment, there’s a tense silence between them, the music and chatter from the party seeming distant in comparison to the charged atmosphere in the hallway. Paige can feel her heart racing, could feel the anger bubbling under the surface.

Beau breaks the silence first, rolling his eyes as if he can’t be bothered with her anymore. “She’s probably rotting in her bedroom right now. I told her not to come.”

Paige blinks, caught off guard by the harshness in his voice. “What? Why?”

Beau shrugs, leaning casually against the wall as if what he’s saying is no big deal. Which, to him, it probably isn’t. “She’s been a bitch lately. Told her to stay home.”

Paige’s grip on the vape tightens as a rush of anger surges through her. She hates him. She hates how he talks about Dani like that, like she’s just some inconvenience instead of his girlfriend. The same girlfriend he’s never deserved.

The same girlfriend that Paige picked up in the middle of the night last night.

Her gaze slides to Beau, and before she can stop herself, the words are out of her mouth. “Did you do something to Dani last night?”

Beau’s head snaps toward her, his eyes narrowing. “What the fuck are you talking about?” His tone is defensive, a little too defensive for someone who’s supposedly innocent.

Paige doesn’t back down, her pulse quickening as the frustration bubbles to the surface. “Last night,” she repeats, her voice steady. “I found her walking home alone in the middle of the night. She wouldn’t even tell me what was going on. So I’m asking you, Beau—did you leave her out there?”

Beau’s expression shifts, his jaw tightening as he stands up straighter, his arms dropping to his sides. “Are you seriously accusing me of something?” he snaps, his voice low and threatening. “I didn’t leave her anywhere.”

Paige scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares him down. “Then why was she out there, alone? She looked like she’d been crying.”

Beau rolls his eyes, but there’s something uneasy in the way he shifts on his feet, something that makes Paige’s stomach twist. “I don’t know, Paige. Maybe she was crying because she’s a fucking mess lately.”

Paige’s eyes flash with anger. “She’s a mess? You’re her boyfriend. Aren’t you supposed to, I don’t know, give a shit?”

Beau’s lips curl into a sneer. “You don’t know anything about our relationship, so maybe you should keep your nose out of it.”

Paige takes a step closer, her voice lowering as she looks down on him ever so slightly—having those couple inches on him. “I know enough to know something’s wrong with her. She’s not herself, and you’re just standing here acting like you don’t care.”

Beau’s face hardens, and for a second, Paige thinks he might actually shove her away. They’ve had a physical fight before—what’s another one? But instead, he takes a step back, exhaling sharply as he glares at her. “You think this is my fault? You think I’m the one who’s making her act like this? You have no idea what she’s like, Bueckers. You only ever saw the good parts of her.”

Paige’s heart skips a beat, but she doesn’t flinch. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” she reports.

Beau huffs out a humorless laugh, his gaze flicking to the bathroom door as it remains stubbornly closed. “It means that she’s been a bitch lately, okay? Just like I said before. Moody as hell. I’m not her fuckin’ babysitter, like, Jesus Christ.”

Paige feels her hands clench into fists at her sides. “So you’re just going to leave her to deal with whatever’s going on by herself? Real classy, Hudson.”

Before Beau can respond, the bathroom door swings open, and a couple stumbles out, laughing drunkenly and clinging to each other. Paige shoots them a disgusted look—God only knows what they had been doing in there. Beau takes advantage of the distraction, slipping past her and heading straight for the open bathroom.

Before he disappears inside, he shoots Paige one last glance, his expression dark and full of resentment. “Stay out of it, Paige.”

The door slams shut behind him, leaving Paige standing in the hallway, her heart racing with anger and confusion. She leans against the wall, lifting Thaliah’s vape to her lips and taking another long drag, the vapor filling her lungs as she tries to calm herself down.

Stay out of it? He’s fucking stupid if he thinks that’ll stop her from doing anything.

She exhales slowly, her mind still spinning with everything that just happened. Beau’s words leave a bitter taste in her mouth, but more than that, they leave her with an even deeper sense of worry for Dani. There’s something wrong, and Beau either doesn’t know how to handle it or simply doesn’t care enough to try.

Paige closes her eyes for a moment, leaning her head back against the wall as the sound of the party buzzes around her. Halloween is Dani’s favorite holiday. Dani’s always, always loved it, always got excited about dressing up, about watching horror movies and going to parties with their friends. She and Paige have done coordinating costumes every year since forever. But this year? Dani’s sitting at home, probably miserable by the sound of things, and Paige wants to help. To do anything to help.

She takes another drag, and thinks.

DANI LAYS on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the silence in the room pressing down on her. Halloween has always been her favorite day of the year, the one she looks forward to the most. But tonight, it feels hollow. She glances around her bedroom—dimly lit, the shadows from her string lights casting a soft glow on the walls. It’s quiet, too quiet, and that’s the problem. Her friends are all probably at a party somewhere, dressed up in ridiculous costumes, laughing, drinking, having the time of their lives.

But she isn’t there. Not with Beau and Serena and everyone else she was meant to go out with tonight.

And certainly not with Paige and Thaliah and Jalen, who she’s spent every Halloween with for years.

The thought stings like an open wound. Halloween’s always been something she and Paige share—whether it was sneaking candy at sleepovers when they were younger or staying up late to watch horror movies that terrified them both, or—more recently—attending the dumbest parties and getting shit-faced. But this year, Dani’s alone, cut off from everything and everyone that once made her feel like herself.

She lets out a long sigh, sitting up in bed. She decides to be masochistic, and pulls one of her old scrapbooks from her the drawer in her bedside table. This is so stupid, she thought, thumbing through the pages. She hasn’t added to it in months, not since before everything changed. Not since her dad sent her to that place. She flips through the pages, her eyes scanning the scrawled handwriting, the cut photos, the scattered tape, reliving bits and pieces of her old life—laughing with Thaliah, playing (and losing) basketball with Jalen, sneaking out with Paige, pretending nothing could ever come between them.

Before camp. Before everything got fucked up.

Her heart clenches as she turns to an old picture tucked between the pages. It’s the two of them—her and Paige. Taken last Halloween, in matching costumes they’d thrown together at the last minute. Dani smiles faintly at the memory, the way Paige had made her laugh so hard that night she thought she’d never catch her breath. It had been one of the best nights of her life, but now it feels like a lifetime ago, like it belongs to a different version of her—a version of Dani that no longer exists.

Dani’s throat tightens as the memories overwhelmed her. She drops the scrapbook on the bed and covers her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling. I still love her. The realization hits her like a ton of bricks, the words echoing in her mind over and over. She loves Paige. She always has. But it feels so impossible now, so wrong, so tainted. After everything that’s happened, after the months apart, after the cold distance between them, after everything that’s been cemented into Dani’s head, how can they ever get back to what they used to be?

Tears blur Dani’s vision as she buries her face in her hands, her body shaking with quiet sobs. She wants to be the girl she used to be—the carefree, happy, whole version of herself that hadn’t been shattered by her father’s cruelty, by the camp, by the guilt that now consumes her every waking thought. She wants to go back to the way things were before her mind became warped and twisted by everything she‘a been forced to believe.

But she can’t. She doesn’t know how.

She cries until her chest aches, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She feels like she’s drowning, and there’s no one there to pull her out of the deep end. She’s lost so much—her friends, her sense of self, her relationship with Paige. Who is she now? She doesn’t even know anymore.

Suddenly, the sound of the doorbell echoes through the empty house, pulling Dani out of her thoughts. She wipes at her tear-streaked face, frowning as she glances at the clock on her nightstand. It’s way too late for trick-or-treaters, and no one else os home. Her dad is out for the night, and the house has been dead quiet for hours.

Confused, Dani gets up from her bed, pulling on her hoodie as she makes her way downstairs. The doorbell rings again just as she reaches the bottom of the staircase, and she hesitates for a moment before opening the door.

The porch is empty.

Dani blinks, her heart racing as she stepped outside and glances around. There was no one in sight—just the dark, empty street in front of her house. She thinks maybe it’s just some stupid Halloween prank until she looks down. There’s a small basket sitting on the porch, filled with Twix and Sour Patch Kids and Snickers—all of her favorite candies. Her breath catches in her throat as she crouches down, her fingers trembling as she picks it up.

Sitting on top of the candy is a folded note.

Dani’s heart pounds in her chest as she opens the note, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting:

Dan,

Please know that if you ever need to talk to anyone, I am always here for you. I hope this basket makes your Halloween a little better.

P <3

Dani’s vision blurs with tears again, but this time, they aren’t necessarily tears of sadness. They’re something else—something warmer, softer. Paige left this for her. Paige went out of her way to make sure Dani wasn’t completely alone tonight.

She clutches the note to her chest, her heart aching in a way that feels both painful and comforting all at once. Paige has always been there for her, even now, even when everything is so broken, so different. Dani stands on the porch for a long moment, the cool night air brushing against her skin as she stares down at the basket.

She lets herself be a little optimistic. She thinks that maybe not everything is lost.

[simplygojo]

Gettin' A Full Service

Author's Note: Y'all I'm so sorry im nothin but a nasty dog bc no way this is 4.3k 💀. ANYWHO this smutty fic idea came to me when seeing the art used as the cover for this by @actuallyvalerie (original art is linked here), I just couldn't help myself from writing this...heh. Hope you enjoy!

Requests are open! Please read the Request Guidelines before submitting a request <33

Pairing: Mechanic!Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Word Count: 4.3k (im a nasty dog y'all...)

Warnings: 18+ content, SMUT!, oral (f receiving), intercourse, choking, pet names, mndi

^^ art by @actuallyvalerie

The low rumble of engines filled the air as you stepped into the garage, the familiar scents of motor oil and gasoline swirling around you. Your heartbeat quickened the moment you caught sight of him—Toji Fushiguro. 

He was bent over the hood of his car, focused on something behind the propped-up hood.

The muscles in his broad back flexed as he worked, his white tank top clinging to his sweat-slicked skin. His strong arms glistened with a light sheen of sweat, smudged with streaks of oil that only added to the raw masculinity he exuded. 

A dark smear ran along his sharp jawline, the grease contrasting with his striking, rugged features. The late afternoon sun filters through the wide windows of Toji’s garage, casting long shadows across the floor as you lean against the doorframe, watching him work. 

His muscles flexed as he tightened a bolt with practiced ease. His black hair falls into his eyes, and he grunts, annoyed, pushing it back with his forearm before continuing.

You can’t help but smile at the sight. Toji, focused and in his element, and it was really turning you on…

The way he concentrated on the task at hand, brow furrowed and lips slightly parted as he grunted with effort, was enough to send heat coursing through you. Each twist of the wrench, every subtle shift of his frame, seemed to radiate raw masculinity, igniting a spark of desire deep within you.

Your pulse quickened, and you felt a warmth pooling in your core, drawn in by the mix of confidence and sheer masculinity he exuded.

Toji, sensing your gaze, glances over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “You gonna stand there all day or actually say something?” His voice is teasing, rough around the edges, but there’s that familiar smirk tugging at his lips, the one that makes your heart skip a beat.

You push off the doorframe and walk over, hands in your pockets, pretending to study the car (like you gave a damn) as if you understand half of what he’s doing. 

“Just admiring the view,” you reply with a grin, leaning against the workbench. “You sure know how to make fixing a car look… good.”

Toji snorts, wiping the grease from his hands onto a rag before tossing it aside. “Yeah? Well, don’t get used to it. Not many people get a free show.”

You roll your eyes at his usual bravado but can’t deny that there’s something captivating about him. He straightens up, towering over you with that smug grin still firmly in place. “What, you just came here to stare?”

You shrug, deciding to play along. “Maybe. Can’t blame me, right? You’re good at what you do.”

His smirk widens, and he steps closer, towering over you now. There’s an intensity in his gaze, but it’s softened by the playful glint in his eyes. “You saying I should charge for it?”

You laugh, lightly shoving him. “Please, you’d drive everyone away with that attitude.”

He chuckles, leaning back against the car, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Probably. But you’re still here, so I must be doing something right.”

You look up at him, biting back a smile. “Guess I’m the lucky one, huh?”

Toji’s eyes narrow playfully, but there’s a warmth in his gaze that wasn’t there before. “Damn right.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the garage filling the space once again. 

After a moment, you speak again, your voice softer. “Need any help?”

Toji glances at you, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You offering?”

You shrug, moving closer to inspect the tools scattered on the workbench. “Maybe. I’m not exactly a mechanic, but I can hold a wrench.”

He snorts, amused, and hands you a tool.

“Don’t hurt yourself. That’s my job.”

You take it, rolling your eyes at his comment. But as you stand next to him, following his instructions and working together on the car, there’s a quiet contentment in the air. 

You grip the wrench, watching Toji’s hands as he guides yours to the right bolt. His touch is firm, steady, sparking a heat between your thighs. His body is so close to yours that you felt the warmth radiating off him. 

You try to focus on the task at hand, but with Toji standing over you, the subtle scent of engine oil mixed with his cologne makes your heart race, and it's hard to concentrate.

"Like this?" You ask, adjusting the wrench in your hand, trying to distract yourself from your dirty thoughts.

Toji’s lips twitch into a smirk as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Tighten it, don’t baby it, baby." 

You roll your eyes but smile despite yourself. You give the wrench another turn, putting more effort into it this time.

"There. Happy?" You ask, looking up at him.

Toji’s gaze flickers down to meet yours, and for a moment, the air between you seems to thicken. 

His eyes darken, a hint of something playful yet dangerous lurking in them.

He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans in even closer, so close you can feel the brush of his arm against yours.

"Not bad," he murmurs, his voice low. His big arms reached over you and tightened the bolt even more, just showing off his strength. "Maybe you’re not as useless around here as I thought."

You narrow your eyes at him, though there’s no real annoyance in your expression. "Oh, please. I’m the best help you’ve ever had."

Toji’s grin widens, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Big words for someone who didn’t even know where the wrench was five minutes ago."

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can, he reaches past you to grab another tool, his arm brushing against your side. 

He doesn’t move away, staying so close that your shoulders are practically touching. It’s deliberate—you can tell by the smug look on his face.

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t back down. Instead, you let your own smile grow, deciding to meet his teasing head-on.

"Maybe I don’t know cars, but I know you like showing off. How long did it take you to fix that last engine again? Two hours?"

Toji lets out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying your banter. "Two hours, and it was perfect. Don’t forget that part."

You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow. "Perfect, huh? Or just barely passable?"

He narrows his eyes at you, though there’s a playful edge in his gaze.

"Careful. You’re gonna talk yourself out of a favour if you keep that up."

"Oh? What favour?" you ask, leaning against the car now, your arms crossed, fully enjoying the back-and-forth.

Toji leans down, bringing his face closer to yours, his grin shifting into something more dangerous, more tempting. "The one where I let you stick around here. Don’t think I’ll keep you around for free."

Your breath hitches slightly, but you don’t let it show. Instead, you match his energy, pushing back without missing a beat.

"Oh, so you’re saying I have to work to earn my keep? What’s the price, then? More wrench-holding?"

He chuckles again, the sound deep and rich, vibrating through the air between you. 

His eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, the teasing fades into something heavier, something that lingers in the charged space between your bodies. 

He’s close enough now that you can see the flecks of green in his eyes, close enough that you can feel the warmth rolling off him.

"Nah," Toji says, his voice dropping an octave, turning more serious but still holding that playful tone.

"I’ve got enough wrenches. I’m thinkin’ of something a little more… personal."

You can feel your pulse quicken, but you don’t look away. "Oh? Like what?"

He leans in, just barely brushing his lips against your ear.

"Guess you’ll just have to stick around to find out."

For a second, the world seems to slow down, your senses overwhelmed by the proximity of him, the way his voice sends shivers down your spine. 

But before you can say anything, Toji pulls back, the smirk returning to his face as he casually grabs another tool and turns back to the car, as if nothing just happened.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart still pounding in your chest.

Toji always knows exactly how to push your buttons, how to get under your skin in a way that leaves you wanting more.

“Tease,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head with a smile.

Toji glances over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“I’m not teasing this time, I’m just busy. Like I said, stick around...”

His voice was low, almost serious, but that playful gleam in his eyes hasn’t faded. 

He gives you a wink, and something about the way he says it sends a shiver down your spine.

You open your mouth to reply, but words seem to get stuck in your throat. The way he’s looking at you right now—like you’re the only thing in the room worth paying attention to—makes your pulse quicken. 

The air between you feels heavy, charged with an energy you can’t quite name.

Toji watches your reaction closely, his grin fading into something softer, more intense. He drops the tool he was holding onto the workbench and turns fully toward you, wiping his hands on the rag before tossing it aside.

“You really think I’m just messin’ with you?”

Your breath catches as he steps closer, closing the already small distance between you. His presence is overwhelming—tall, broad, and carrying that rough, irresistible confidence he always seems to have. 

But this time, there’s something else in the way he looks at you, something different. His teasing smirk is gone, replaced by a look that makes your heart race.

“Toji…” you start, but you’re not even sure what you want to say.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against your chin, tilting your face up so that you’re forced to meet his eyes. The touch is surprisingly gentle, almost tender.

“I’m serious,” he says quietly, his voice low and rough around the edges. “You think I haven’t noticed? The way you look at me, the way you linger around here like you’re waitin’ for something to happen.”

Your cheeks burn at his words, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment or anticipation.

Maybe both.

But before you can respond, Toji’s hand slips from your chin, moving to rest against the side of your neck, his thumb brushing against your skin. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through you.

“I’ve been holding back,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse, like he’s been keeping this confession locked away for too long.

The dark, dangerous edge in his tone sends a shiver down your spine. His grip on you tightens slightly, a subtle indication of just how much control he’s been forcing himself to maintain.

You’re painfully aware of how close he is now—his broad frame nearly eclipsing yours, his body radiating a heat that makes it harder to breathe. The faint scents of oil and metal lingers in the air, mixing with something distinctly him. It’s intoxicating.

“M’didn’t wanna push too far, but... maybe I’ve been waitin' for you to give me the green light.” His words hang in the air, a challenge wrapped in velvet. It’s like a line drawn in the sand, daring you to cross it.

Your heart pounds, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Every inch of you is hyper-aware of Toji—the way his hand lingers on your neck, the way his gaze seems to devour you. You want this. God, you want this.

“What if I gave you that green light right now?” The words leave your lips before you can fully process them, but there’s no hesitation, no second-guessing.

For a fleeting moment, Toji’s pupils dilate, his eyes narrowing with something primal, something dangerous. The smirk that spreads across his face is no longer playful—it’s predatory.

“Then I wouldn’t waste any more time.”

Before you can draw another breath, his mouth crashes down on yours, and it’s like a dam breaking—everything he’s been holding back unleashed in one searing, possessive kiss.

His hands move from your throat to your waist, pulling you against him so fiercely that your feet nearly leave the ground.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he kisses you. His lips are demanding, rough, as if he’s staking a claim.

You can feel the pent-up tension in every movement—the way his teeth graze your lower lip, the way his hands grip your hips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he loosens his hold.

Your hands move instinctively to his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands, pulling him even closer.

You match his intensity, giving in to the heat that’s been simmering between you both for far too long. Every brush of his lips, every press of his body against yours ignites a fire low in your belly, making you ache for more.

Toji pulls back for just a moment, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours as he catches his breath. His eyes, hooded and dark, search yours as if looking for any trace of hesitation. But there is none.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” His voice is low, rumbling with barely restrained need.

Your answer comes not in words but in the way you tug him back to you, pressing your lips to his once more, harder this time, as if you’re trying to tell him with your body what your words can’t quite express.

Toji groans softly, the sound vibrating against your mouth as his hands begin to explore, sliding under the hem of your shirt.

His touch is scorching, sending jolts of electricity through your skin. 

There’s an urgency now, a desperation in the way his hands roam your body, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. 

Your back hits the cold metal of his car behind you, the chill momentarily cutting through the heat between you, but it only seems to heighten the tension. 

Toji’s hands are firm on your waist, holding you in place against the cool surface, his body pressed against yours in a way that has your pulse racing.

He breaks the kiss, breathing heavily, his eyes smouldering with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. The darkness in his gaze has only grown deeper, and when he speaks, his voice is rough, husky, full of raw need.

“I’ve been patient,” he mutters, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your jeans. “But you don’t want me to hold back anymore, do you?”

The way he says it, the low growl in his voice, sends a wave of heat straight to your throbbing pussy. 

You can only manage a small shake of your head, your throat too tight to form any words.

His lips twist into a smirk, something predatory glinting in his eyes as he steps back just enough to grab you by the waist and hoist you effortlessly onto the hood of the car behind you. 

He quickly unbuttoned your jeans, sliding them off your legs, letting his hands roam your skin.

The cold metal beneath you contrasts sharply with the warmth of his body as he steps between your legs, spreading them open with a firm grip on your thighs.

“You’ve been teasing me, y’know that?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous as his hands trace the outline of your hips, fingers brushing the edge of your panties.

“You comin’ in here wearing these tight jeans, given’ me those looks.”

Before you can respond, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and, with one sharp tug, the fabric tears apart in his hands. 

The sound of it—quick and final—echoes in the small garage, and the cool air hits your skin, making you gasp.

Toji’s eyes darken as he looks down at you, his gaze hungry and unrestrained. He licks his lips, the smirk from earlier gone, replaced with something far more serious.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up your inner thighs, rough fingers brushing the sensitive skin as he leans down, bringing his face closer to your dripping cunt. His breath ghosts over your exposed skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Such a pretty sight.”

He pauses for a second, his thumb brushing dangerously close to your center, teasing, but not yet giving you the touch you desperately need. You squeeze your eyes shut, your head falling back with pleasure.  

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this.”

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he lets his thumb slide over your slick folds, testing your reaction, watching the way your body responds under his touch. The anticipation, the raw hunger in his gaze, it’s all too much, and you let out a desperate moan. 

Your breath hitches as Toji's thumb slides teasingly through your folds, his touch both rough and deliberate.

You try to bite back the groan threatening to escape your lips, but the way his eyes flicker up to meet yours tells you he notices everything.

“Don’t hold back now,” he rasps, his voice gravelly, sending shivers down your spine.

“I wanna hear every pretty sound you make.”

Before you can react, he dips his head between your thighs, and the warmth of his breath against your sensitive skin makes your body tremble. His hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you in place, as his tongue traces a slow, agonizing path over your slick heat.

Your gasp echoes through the garage, head falling back against the hood of his car as pleasure surges through you. 

You feel Toji’s lips curl into a smirk against you, clearly enjoying the way your body reacts to his touch. 

He doesn’t hold back—his tongue flicks, swirls, and sucks, each movement precise and calculated, as though he’s savouring every moment of this.

“Fuck, Toji—” you gasp, your hands instinctively flying to his hair, tugging at the dark strands as the heat builds inside you.

Toji growls in response, the vibrations of his voice against your pussy sending waves of pleasure through you, making your thighs shake. 

He dives in deeper, his mouth working relentlessly, tasting every inch of you, each flick of his tongue pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

The sensation is overwhelming—his lips, his tongue, the way his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open for him, like you’re his to devour. 

It’s too much and not enough all at once. Every brush of his mouth over your clit sends electricity shooting through your body, and leaves you whining for more.

Your hips buck instinctively, seeking more, needing more of the pleasure he’s giving you.

Toji chuckles, dark and amused, his voice muffled as he continues to work you with his mouth. “So needy,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet against your heated skin. “I like that.”

It’s like he knows exactly how to unravel you, like he’s been waiting for this moment, studying you, learning your body, just so he could do this—just so he could make you fall apart beneath him.

“Toji—m' gonna cum,” you choke out, your voice barely a whisper, but he knows what you need. 

He speeds up, his mouth and fingers working in tandem, the relentless pace driving you higher and higher, until the world falls away and all that’s left is him, his touch, and the pleasure that crashes over you in waves.

You cry out as your orgasm rips through you, your thighs clamping around his head as your body shakes with the intensity of it. 

But Toji doesn't let up, continuing to lap at you, drawing out your pleasure until you're trembling from the aftershocks.

Finally, he pulls back, his lips and chin glistening as he looks up at you with a satisfied grin, eyes dark with lust. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, standing back up, towering over you once again.

“Come here, pretty girl,” he rasps, his voice a low growl that sends another wave of heat through your body.

Before you can catch your breath, his large hand slides behind your neck, gripping it firmly, but not harshly. 

He lifts you from your position on the car, pulling you up until you’re sitting in front of him, your legs dangling off the edge of the hood. His hand lingers at your neck, his thumb brushing against your pulse, feeling the rapid beat of your heart.

Your body is still humming with the afterglow of your orgasm, but when you glance down and see Toji’s other hand move to the waistband of his pants, your breath hitches again. 

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he unbuttons them slowly, deliberately, the tension between you thickening once more.

Toji's eyes gleamed with that dark hunger as his grip on your neck tightened just a fraction, enough to remind you who was in control. His free hand moved to the back of your thigh, pulling you forward on the car until you could feel the heat of him between your legs.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice low and rough as his hand caressed the curve of your hip, dragging you closer to him.

“So pretty, all spread out for me.”

Your breath caught as you felt the tip of him brush against your entrance, your entire body already aching for him, needing more. You leaned into his grip on your neck, your pulse racing beneath his fingers as you whispered,

“Please, Toji…”

He chuckled darkly at the desperation in your voice, his grin widening as he pressed himself just a little harder against you, teasing you.

“Please what, baby? You gotta use your words.”

You squirmed under his grip, your body screaming for more contact, for him to stop teasing.

“God Toji—I want y’to fuck me,” you said in frustration, your voice barely audible as your body begged for him.

“Good girl.” His voice was a low, approving growl as he finally lined himself up with you, his voice sent another wave of heat to your aching pussy. Without another word, he pulled you forward, thrusting into you in one swift motion.

The sudden stretch had you gasping, eyes wide as your walls adjusted to his size, the feeling of him filling you completely was overwhelming.

Toji groaned, his grip on your neck tightening as he stilled inside you, savouring the feeling for just a moment. You grabbed his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he muttered through clenched teeth, his eyes locked on yours as each thrust sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body.

Your hands instinctively reached for him, fingers tangling in his dark hair as you clung to him, every nerve in your body on fire. Toji’s lips curled into a smug grin at the way you responded to him, the way your body seemed to melt under his touch.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He rasped, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned in closer while maintaining his rough pace. His grip on your neck shifted to pull your head back slightly. 

“Tell me how good it feels.”

“It’s so good,” you moaned, your voice trembling as he began to pick up the pace, the force of his thrusts making the car creak beneath you. 

Every movement pushed you higher, the pressure building inside you all over again as Toji took you apart piece by piece.

Toji’s pace became relentless, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, and your body was a live wire, every nerve tingling under his touch. The pressure inside you built impossibly fast, the pleasure coiling tight in your core, threatening to snap.

“Toji—" you whimpered, barely able to form words as he drove into you, your body quivering beneath him. 

Hot tears pricked at your eyes from the overstimulation you felt—never ever had anyone fucked you like this.

He groaned at the sound of your voice, his lips brushing against your ear.

"That’s it, pretty girl. Cum f’me," he rasped, his hand tightening around your neck just enough to send a thrill through you.

The roughness of his voice, the commanding way he held you—it pushed you over the edge. 

Your body tensed, the world spinning as your orgasm ripped through you with a force that left you gasping, your walls clenching tightly around him as wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your veins.

You cried out his name followed by a pornographic moan, legs trembling, your nails digging into his shoulders as you rode the intensity of it, your whole body shaking as the pleasure overtook you. 

Toji’s hand slipped from your neck, sliding down to your waist as he kept moving, working you through the aftershocks as your body convulsed beneath him.

“There you go,” he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction, his hips slowing as he watched the way you writhed under him, completely lost in the ecstasy he’d given you.

Panting and spent, your body collapsed back against the car, your chest heaving as the last waves of your orgasm rolled through you.

Toji’s eyes gleamed with pride as he pulled out, his hands still possessively resting on your hips.

"You look so damn pretty when you cum," he murmured, leaning down to press a rough kiss against your lips, your body still tingling from the intensity of it all.

You were utterly spent, trembling in the aftermath, but as Toji’s lips curled into that familiar smirk, you knew...

He wasn’t done with you yet.

[lidiasloca]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write a little Azriel x reader story, where he comes from a mission injured but tries to hide it from everyone (especially from her (reader)) because he doesn't want them to worry. But then things get complicated and she finds out and is so angry at him for trying to hide it. And then she goes into mother hen mode and takes care of him and it's just pure fluff🥺

Thank you🥰

healing azriel's wounds

azriel x reader

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, your words a mix of frustration and worry. 

“I didn’t want you to worry, Y/N. Since we are newly mated, I knew you’d be… well — like this,” Azriel replies, a painful look on his face as you clean up his wound. You rely on the steadiness in your well-practiced hands, but still, no matter how good of a healer you are, you feel unsure every time you get close to his wounded chest. He is your mate, after all.

“Worried for my mate?” you ask, anger flooding into your heart for the way he treats this as nonsense. “This cut is almost bone-deep, Azriel. What were you thinking?” Your voice breaks at the last bit, and Azriel finally seems to worry — maybe not for the wound, but for you.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes as you start stitching the cut. You have to look away from his pained eyes, only focusing on the meticulous movement of your hands. “Really, I—”

“Hush,” you order with a hint of sweetness. “It’s fine. Just… don’t ever do it again.”

“I promise,” he replies, and, at last, you move your eyes to meet his. 

You are still mad at him for putting his life at risk, but still, you are grateful he is, at last, fine. You didn’t tell him often, but it killed you every time he left for a mission. You always worried he might come home with a wound like this. Or maybe he would never return home.

“Please don’t cry,” he pleads with a hoarse voice, trying to sit up now that you’ve finished stitching him.

“Then don’t give me reasons to cry,” you mumble between sobs. Maybe he is right. Maybe being recently mated made you much more vulnerable to things like this.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, reaching out to stroke your cheek.

“Don’t move. The stitches are fresh.”

But he doesn’t seem to care one bit. “Please forgive me, Y/N.”

You watch him for a minute, reading the sorrow and regret in his eyes. “Never again,” you warn in a weak voice.

“Never again. I promise.”

-Characters by Sarah J Maas

a/n: pls send requests!

[mymiraclealigner]

Don’t be kind | RemusLupin x fem!reader

summary: Remus has come back to apologize.

tw: smut without much plot (+18), curse words

word count: 2,223

a/n: long time no see :) i have been thinking about remus so much lately... hope you like this and sorry if there are any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language.

The rain hit the window desperately. It banged the outside of the big house begging to come in. The weight of the mist creeped into the walls with ease, like a snake crawling through a dense field, almost invisible. The Black House was dark and moist, the majority of its habitants in deep, twitchy slumber.

A girl held herself up on her elbows, semi-asleep still. Some hair stuck to her temple, product of the sweat. The heat under her duvet contrasted uncomfortably with the cold atmosphere. She managed to sit on her bed to recognize the figure standing past her door. A small breeze sneaked through the gap between the creaky floors; a shiver walked across her.

“Remus?” A set of manicured fingers raised to rub her sleepy eyes.

The man remained still. Remus was counting in his head: one, two three, four… Hoping to go unnoticed around twenty. It wasn’t the first night he had entered her room to watch her sleep or something more. But it was the first time he felt embarrassed that he got caught. Twenty came around and she remained focused on the subject in her room.

The silhouette’s shoulders were moving up and down patiently and a few drops fell from his fingers to the floor: he was soaking wet, the rain caught him on the way back to the house. She knew it was Remus and not an illusion. In her dreams, he would have come to her already and he would have been dry, smelling like books and whisky, like he normally did. In her dreams, he loved her unafraid, he was certain of his feelings for her.

“So this is what you do, treat me horribly and come back to watch me sleep and wet my floors?”

“Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you,” he replied with a hoarse voice. “It’s the moon.”

The girl looked down, a silver, thick stripe on the floor marked the distance between the bodies. It was always the moon the one coming between them. Nature’s round princess was an animated object, playing with Remus’ head and emotions. The witch constantly asked herself how something so beautiful could do him so much harm –and to her, consequently.

She removed the comforter from her body, sitting at the edge of the bed. The moon’s pale light bathed her naked legs. She wiggled her toes against the cold wood, getting ready to stand up. Remus’ breathing quickened, her actions meant I forgive you, clearly. He tried to ignore the inevitable worry of when he would no longer be forgiven.

She moved like an angel towards him: messy curls framing her face, tired eyes shaping the world around her. Remus could have kneeled to her feet and kissed them as an act of gratitude. She was merciful like a virgin.

She first pushed the heavy leather jacket off his shoulders. The garment hit the floor with a hard thud, splashing cold water on her feet. His hands were immediately on her hips, his achy knuckles relaxed at the touch of her cotton shirt. She surrounded his neck and came so close to his face she could feel his warm breath on her forehead. He smelled like pines and smog.

“I’m truly sorry, you’re so important to me,” he whispered against her hairline. His hands trespassed the fabric and caressed her lower back, occasionally playing with the edge of her underwear.

Her hands massaged his nape, helping it get rid of the tension the incoming full moon had induced. She looked up into his tired eyes, the stripe of light reflected in his pupils. He truly couldn’t escape the moon.

“It’s okay, just take what you need,” she responded while pulling his lips closer to hers.

He wanted to correct her, he wasn’t there to take anything –even if it seemed like it–, but it was too late. She immediately kissed him and he forgot about anything that had ever happened in the world before that moment.

The rain suddenly stopped, the clouds took deep a breath.

Like a siren she pushed him slowly into her waters, discarding his clothes on the way. The first buttons of his shirt were undone slowly by her slippery hands; the lethargy of her movements heated Remus’ head. He interrupted the unhurried pace yanking the shirt open, fours buttons flew across the room. Her nails scratched the hair on his torso, fondling the scars with dedication; it made Remus moan.

At the halfway point, Y/n lost her shirt. A soft breeze hardened her nipples, right before the werewolf’s hand grazed them. Her lips, already red and bitten, opened to emit a small groan of satisfaction. She was desperate for him, but so mad at his ways. She brought her bare chest closer to his in a unbridled outburst; fuck you, she thought.

Y/n kept her backward walk until she was stopped by the feel of the mattress hitting her thighs. The girl palmed him over his wet jeans: he was rock hard under the rough material. She guessed he had been hard for a while now by the way his hips stuttered. Remus separated from her kiss to observe her moving hand; in a swift move he removed it holding her by the wrist and trapping her arm behind her back.

“My turn,” he announced lowly against her cheek. He let his words linger in the air; he wanted time to slow her breaths.

With the back of his scarred hand he caressed the curve of her face relaxing the frown that had settled between her brows. His stroke kept going down her neck, the pulse of her veins made his fingers slightly jump. Like on a mountain, his hand raised following the outline of her breast; he pinched the nipple maliciously, stealing a whimper from the girl. His hand slipped down until it sneaked below the only piece of fabric that covered her. Past the mound of hair he wet his digits on her pussy, going up and down, ignoring the crying bead on purpose.

“Pl- please,” she breathed out.

“Uh?”

“I- I said please,” their eyes met. His were determined and playful, hers were pleading.

With a devious smile Remus decided to put her out of her misery and roll measured circles on her clit. Remus knew Y/n was close when the hand held hostage behind her back started to twitch; she also tried to keep her thighs relaxed, but he knew that subtle trembling too well.

The werewolf kissed her neck while diverted his fingers inside of her. First one, then another. He pumped his long fingers into her enough times to open her up, ease his way between her legs. First shallow, then deep. She swore she could feel the protruding scars caress her inner walls.

Once again, in the verge of the orgasm, he let her go. Putting his wet hand on her hip and freeing her arm from his hold. Her hands flew to his belt to unbuckle it. He held her thin hands between his and grabbed his erect member, guiding her through the up-and-down movements. She looked down, embarrassed to be so enraptured in the action.

“Look at me.”

She held her head up, looking shy beyond his shoulder, disobeying his request deliberately. He knew, then: she still resented him. Before he could say anything to defend his case, Y/n turned around and pulled down her underwear. As the small fabric fell to the floor, she straightened up and grabbed the nearest bedpost with her ass perked up.

Remus put a firm hand on her shoulder and pushed her head to side with his, trying to make space to kiss. She could feel his wet tip hitting against her butt cheeks. His hips were rutting against her while his mouth was devouring her soft neck.

“Are you sure?” He whispered in her ear. Goosebumps traveled through her sides; she nodded.

“No, use your words. Come on”

The smallest “yes” came out of her lips. Remus knew he wouldn’t get anything clearer nor louder than that. Anchoring on her hips, he pushed her close to him and grabbed his cock to position it on her entrance.

Neither could keep a sigh of pleasure in at the first stretch. Remus thanked the Gods for her existence and her acknowledgment of his; never in his craziest dreams he thought he could be with someone like her. A long list was the one to enumerate all the ways she was perfect, far more noble and good than Remus; her pussy was in the top five.

He bottomed out and stayed still for a minute, letting her accommodate to his size. He inhaled the scent of her loose curls: fig and honey, his favorite. With a tortuous kiss on her cheek he started rocking inside of her. He held her between his hands like the fourth leaf of a clover, raising a hand to fondle her tits.

The witch could feel his love being poured in the swing of his hips. He was truly sorry (–or very drunk–), she knew, because this is what she had always asked of him and rarely received: to be a little vulnerable, to show her something more than a need to release. The way his breathing fell on her jaw, his arms surrounded her torso, his inhibited grunts matched the thumps… it was perfect, just not what she wanted now.

He treated her horribly hours before, denying her help with the upcoming full moon and talking to her like she was an ignorant idiot. He was so confusing: then, he wanted her far from his life, now, he was holding onto her with all the love and need. He was so mindful and delicate, his cock hit her spot over and over again and it felt so nice that she got mad. She wanted him to unload his frustrations on her, not protect her from already inflicted pain.

“Remus,” she used a hand to halt his movements behind her, “don’t be kind.”

Remus, who was drunk in pleasure, let go of wariness and the fear of hurting her and took a firm hold of the woman in front of him. His hips pounded in and out of Y/n taking the air out of her; he looked down and delighted himself with the view of her arched back and plump ass. Quickly, the slapping sound between the flesh was accompanied by a squelching one; Remus rolled his eyes and kissed the back of her head as she got wetter. The girl moaned his name like a prayer and stammered out scoldings and praises in an hushed erotic whisper.

He paused for a second to turn and lay down his witch on the edge of the mattress. He folded over her, keeping a steady, hard pace. His eyes looked for her, he was missing the connection, a glance to say there’s so many things that I feel that I can’t put words to, but she closed her eyes in feigned focus.

“Look at me,” he framed her face with his big hand. She turned a deaf ear and kept panting, concentrating on the pleasurable new angle.

“Come on,” nothing still. “You know, I–,” she squeezed him hard interrupting his sentence; the corners of her lips raised lightly. “I won’t let you come if you don’t look at me.”

Remus decreased his tempo, rolling his hips heavily against hers. Her eyebrows met and he knew he put her in trouble. A senseless murmur spilled from her throat in the sweetest tone, the werewolf almost melted. He rolled his pelvis closer knowing it would graze her clit and she immediately dug her red nails into his biceps; he smiled triumphant. Her moans increased and he watched her struggle to keep the composure, she needed permission to come.

Just like minutes before, her eyes opened painfully slow. This time, she was greeted by Remus’ glowing face, looking at her with serious devotion and the ghost of a grin. Behind him, an almost round, luminous circle peaked behind the window: the moon.

“Hey there–”

“Harder, please, I- I wanna come,” she begged breathless, dazed by his ministrations and the beautiful light behind his strong frame.

“Shh, don’t worry. I’ll let you come, sweetheart”

Remus increased the rhythm without taking his gaze off off her. She held his face between her hands and drew him closer to conceal her moans between his lips. Surrounding her legs against his torso Y/n asked if she could come and Remus replied with a simple “Yes, love, I’ve got you”. Immediately after, he came inside her with a groan, hiding his face in the gap between her shoulder and neck, her sweetest spot.

The clouds started weeping again, never covering the silver balloon, the protagonist of the night.

The moon looked at the girl laying sweaty on the bed. On top of her, Remus relished in the sole advantage of his condition: heightened feelings. He caressed her sides, looking to say I’m sorry, once again. She looked back at the moon and brought the werewolf to her lips for another round; tomorrow the man would be the moon’s, but tonight he was all hers.

[official-cvntified-gay]

Not Abigail [Abby A. x Reader]

❥ this is the most active I've ever been so let me just put this out there, also that's her face when you call her Abigail ack I wanna squeeze her cheeks and give her lots of kisses.

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It was another long day of patrolling for Abby Anderson, and as usual, she was laser-focused and determined, her cold demeanor firmly in place. The WLF had sent out a team to scout the outer edges of their territory, and Abby led the way, her expression sharp, body tense. She wasn’t much for small talk, and most of the others in the group respected the unspoken rule: stay out of her way.

You, however, were used to Abby’s demeanor. You knew that beneath the tough exterior, there was more to her. That didn’t mean she didn’t frustrate you, though. Especially on days like today, where her need to charge headfirst into danger pushed you to the edge.

As you walked, scanning the horizon for any threats, Abby’s voice broke the silence. “Stay alert. We’re getting close to a Scar territory.”

You nodded, gripping your rifle tighter. The air felt heavy with tension, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen. It was too quiet.

Suddenly, movement in the trees caught your eye, and before you could even react, Abby was already charging ahead, hammer in hand. She crashed into a group of Scars, her weapon swinging with deadly precision, while the rest of the patrol scrambled to catch up.

“Abby, wait!” you shouted, frustration boiling over as you rushed to join the fight.

But she didn’t listen. She never listened when it came to a fight. Within seconds, Abby was in the thick of it, dodging arrows and delivering brutal blows. The others tried to cover her, but your irritation with her recklessness grew with every passing second. This wasn’t the first time she’d thrown herself into danger like this without thinking. And it wouldn’t be the last if she kept this up.

By the time you reached her, the Scars were already down, Abby panting as she wiped the blood from her face. You stormed over to her, adrenaline and anger mixing into a volatile cocktail.

“Abigail Anderson!” you snapped, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her away from the group.

She blinked at you, taken aback. “What—”

“What the hell were you thinking?” you cut her off, glaring at her. “You can’t just charge in like that! We’re a team, Abby! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

Her eyes flickered with confusion—no one ever talked to her like this. Not Manny, not Owen, no one. But you weren’t backing down.

“And don’t ‘what’ me, Abigail,” you continued, voice sharp. “You could’ve gotten hurt. Or worse.”

Abby’s frown deepened at the sound of her full name, and for the first time, her tough exterior cracked just a little. She averted her gaze, her jaw tightening. “Don’t call me that. I’m not Abigail,” she muttered, her voice low.

You crossed your arms, still fuming. “I’ll call you whatever I want if you keep acting like this. You’re too reckless.”

“I wasn’t being reckless,” she grumbled, though there was less conviction in her voice. “I was handling it.”

“You don’t have to handle everything alone, Abby. We’re here to help you. You can’t just charge in without thinking of the consequences.”

Abby shifted uncomfortably, clearly not used to being scolded like this. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she gave a small, barely audible, “Sorry.”

You sighed, trying to calm down as the anger faded. “Just… be careful, alright? I don’t want to lose you.”

She looked up at you then, and you could see the hint of vulnerability in her blue eyes. Abby wasn’t used to being called out like this—especially not by someone she trusted.

“Okay,” she mumbled. “I’ll be more careful.”

Satisfied, you turned back to rejoin the patrol, but you couldn’t help but notice how Abby stuck close to you, hovering just within reach. It wasn’t like her to linger, but there she was, quiet and unusually reserved.

As the patrol continued, you couldn’t resist teasing her a bit. “You see anything up ahead, Abigail?”

She shot you a look, her frown deepening. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Then stop acting like I need to,” you said, keeping your voice neutral.

For the rest of the patrol, you made a point of calling her Abigail at every opportunity, much to her growing irritation.

“Keep up, Abigail,” you said as you marched ahead.

Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t argue. Every time you called her by her full name, she’d pout a little harder, her usual confidence and commanding presence shrinking with every scolding.

Manny eventually caught on, falling into step beside you. “What’s up with Abigail?” he asked with a smirk, clearly amused by the whole situation.

Abby glared at him, but there was no bite behind it. “Shut up, Manny,” she muttered, cheeks flushing as she avoided his gaze.

The rest of the patrol exchanged glances, clearly noticing Abby’s strange behavior. Normally, she was the one calling the shots, the one people were afraid to cross. But now? She looked almost… pouty. The intimidating soldier everyone knew was nowhere to be seen.

By the time the patrol ended and you made it back to the stadium, Abby was still lingering close to you, her silence speaking volumes. As the group disbanded, you finally turned to her.

“Are you still mad?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost shy.

You softened at the sight of her—this wasn’t the Abby you were used to seeing. The vulnerability in her voice, in her posture, it tugged at your heart in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I’m not mad, Abby,” you said, dropping the use of her full name for the first time since the fight. “I just need you to stop being so reckless. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Abby looked up at you, relief clear in her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to be reckless. I just— I thought I could handle it.”

“I know you can handle it,” you said softly. “But that doesn’t mean you should have to do it alone.”

She nodded, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’ll be more careful next time. I promise.”

You smiled, the tension finally easing between you. “Good. And Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll only call you Abigail when you’re being reckless. Got it?”

A small, rare smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she nudged you lightly with her shoulder. “Deal.”

With that, the two of you walked into the stadium side by side, Abby still sticking close—but now, it was out of something softer. Something that told you she was grateful to have you looking out for her, even if she’d never admit it aloud.

[ipegchangbin]

— winner’s deal

sub!jeno x dom!reader x sub!mark | 7.9k words | READ ON AO3

One game, one house. A bet turns into something more when team leader Mark plans to make your boyfriend Jeno all jealous.

❥  fem!reader (she/her pronouns, afab). smut. porn with some plot. ❥ threesome. college/university!au, student!reader & athletes!markjen. member x reader, member x member. open relationship themes. unprotected sex, mouthplay, edging & overstimulation, one light cock slap, double penetration, they’re all messy

📝 happy birthday to the one and only @meivida!!! my fellow dreamzen, the jeno to my chenle, my bff 4life! also surprise i write for nct drm too now. otherwise, enjoy !!

18+ only. minors do not interact.

Somehow, Mark’s not that nervous as he faces Jeno after the game.

Having swept the floor earlier with an insane hockey match, hockey team leader Mark and varsity captain Jeno eye each other down in the locker rooms with nothing but fiery gazes, squinted eyes, and clenched teeth.

You were going to meet them after the game for some “unknown reason.” But, with the way they looked at each other, they just knew.

“Dumb play on the floor earlier, Jeno.” Mark snickered at his teammate, referring to a foul move he got called out for. It cost their team a single point, but Jeno didn’t care about that.

“You didn’t bother to block the guy, so how else was I supposed to pass the disk?”

Mark decides to stay silent. They both know that they aren’t actually frustrated at their game, no, they’re waiting for the minutes to tick down along with the sound of your footsteps by the locker room’s doors.

Jeno breaks the conversational floor worse than he did on the court. “Anyway, why are you meeting up with my girlfriend?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” The leader popped a water bottle open. “You’re her boyfriend.”

“Shouldn’t you know why if she’s asking you?” Jeno had a point, but Mark snickered.

“Beats me.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know any better.”

“Because I don’t!”

Refusing to explode any further, Jeno sighs loudly with a big huff off his chest. “Look, if this is about that one move, I’m sorry.”

Mark simply nods, eyes away from Jeno’s face.

“And I just want to know what my girlfriend has to do with you.”

Even though Mark knows the answer, and Jeno has a hunch, they both shut their lips and wordlessly look at each other.

The truth is, Mark had a bet with Jaemin — if he could somehow make Jeno jealous, then a sum of money would be on the line. It’s been a running joke around the team that Jeno gets sulky over simple things, even if he tries to hide it. It’s something small and endearing, but even Mark thought it would be a step too far if he made him really envious of his girlfriend; Jaemin didn’t care, he just wanted money. It frustrated Mark even to be playing these types of bets, but he couldn’t say no, even as the leader.

Jeno already had that sneaking suspicion that he was being played with, but never in his life would he believe that you — his girlfriend — would get involved like this. Rather than jealousy, he was frustrated at the thought that the boys were teasing him in this way. He tried not to let it get the best of him though, even if he was already getting fired up in the locker rooms.

They eye each other down and it’s the most they’ve stared in their lives.

The sound of sneakers walking into the room echoes through the rigid halls of the lockers. A voice can be heard saying “This is the boy’s room” before being cut off by an extra loud turn of the shoe.

Mark suddenly fidgets in his place, all signs of cockiness dissipating as your familiarly strict voice vibrates through the room.

“Where’s Mark?” You ask yourself. With a resting tone like that, you could pass off as the team manager if you weren’t so focused on your other endeavors.

You spot team leader Mark before your boyfriend, igniting a little spark of envy within Jeno.

“Mark! Why’d you make me rush here so suddenly?” It sounds like you were scolding him with your furrowed eyebrows but you’re not.

“Uh, just needed to ask a simple question.”

“And what would that be?”

Jeno looks back and forth between you and Mark with a cloud of confusion over his head.

First off, he can’t believe that you’re involved in this. Second, you look way too hot when you look mad even when you aren’t. It’s not that you’re annoyed at him, maybe you are, but not to the degree that your voice suggests. Somehow, Jeno finds that assertive side of you so sexy that it’d be inappropriate to think about it right then and there.

Thirdly and finally, you’re completely ignoring the love of your life. Standing awkwardly beside Mark, Jeno simply stares at you and hopes you will stare back.

You don’t. Why’s that so attractive of you?

"How about you join dinner with us at my place?" Mark replies, a smug grin on his face, “Y’know, for beating those Stray-bitches from earlier." 

You blink. Jeno blinks back. It’s only then that you acknowledge your boyfriend. He didn’t even know that they were getting a celebratory dinner for winning the day’s game.

That’s when Jeno’s ears start to turn red with envy. “What do you mean, your place?”

He doesn’t realize he’s thinking aloud until your eyes widen and Mark responds with a fake laugh and a smug smile. “I mean, dude, you played well earlier, and what’s wrong with not bringing your girlfriend over?”

Acting all buddy-buddy, as if he didn’t just diss his play on the floor. But that’s not what gets Jeno’s blood boiling.

“Can’t believe I had to be the one to invite her over first instead of you.”

You seem a little less affected, more so confused.

Only a few things make sense to you at the moment. They won, sure. But if Jeno knew about the dinner, why couldn’t he invite you over? Then again, he doesn’t seem to know either, and Mark looks unusually cool to you right now, your eyes are flipping between the two men until your eyelids flutter for a second to refocus.

“I’m available later,” you say with your back straightened. “I’m going if Jeno’s going.”

With that, Jeno can’t say no. He’s in a trickier spot than you are, severely tethering between being unaware and painfully aware of what’s going on.

Mark then slams his arm over Jeno’s shoulder. “Guess you’re going then?”

But he’s bad at masking the nervousness in his eyes. He gulps and sweat trickles down his forehead even after the game’s been over for a while. His plan to make Jeno jealous all for what could probably be lunch money is backing him into a corner — and he mentally hates wearing the dunce hat.

Jeno nods his head with a squint.

“Alright! I’ll see you guys later.”

He ruffles Jeno's hair and leaves with a turn of the heel. The squeak of his rubber shoes echoes through the locker rooms. You turn to your disheveled puppy of a boyfriend, fixing the messy hair.

“You sure you wanna go?” Your question is met with a nod from him. He compliantly keeps his head down for you to scratch it slightly, leaving the boy with a flushed face and redder ears.

“If we get dinner at Mark’s, can we get dessert at mine after?” Jeno suggests.

“Sure thing,” you giggle. “How could I say no to a polite boy like you?”

If Jeno had a tail, he’d be wagging it now. Reassured, he simply takes your hand in his as you lead each other out of the lockers. Should Mark or Jaemin be there, they would’ve thought that they lost from the sight of the both of you.

Time rolls around until it’s night. The lights are on while the sun is out, the moon barely illuminating your steps alongside Jeno’s on the way to Mark’s place.

The streets are usually busier but you don’t mind the quieter walk when your boyfriend intertwines his fingers with yours. The sidewalks are skinnier but he uses that as an excuse to walk closer to you. He’s the unusual one now, becoming slightly clingier than he normally would.

You figure if it has anything to do with Mark’s antics.

“You still wanna go to his place? We can grab something else,” you suggest.

That’s where you’re wrong, though.

“No, let’s go,” Jeno says with a smile and a contrasting squeeze of your hand.

He wants to prove himself against Mark.

You’d think that he’s unintentionally losing, giving in to the envy and jealousy building up in his core — but that’s not what this is. He wants to show him that you’re his, and he’s yours. Given the attitude that the both of them were giving each other, he wanted to one-up his own leader. He can’t quite explain it himself.

You both make it to Mark's place though, but you don't recognize any of the cars around his apartment. Actually, there are no vehicles around Mark's spot at all. Not even Chenle's car is there, the signature pickup that took their friend group everywhere. It seems like both of you came early.

So, you ring on his doorbell. Jeno tests himself by letting your hand go.

No response. Ding-dong; no response again.

You do hear hurried footsteps though, but it takes long before anything happens. Antsy, Jeno fidgets as he stops himself from the instinct of holding your hand again. Minutes go by before the door finally answers: Mark looks disheveled and hurriedly dressed.

You’d be damned if you say he’s cute, so you digress, focusing on your boyfriend instead.

The two men high-five with a side hug — despite lingering hard feelings — and you enter the seemingly lifeless house.

“…Where’s the party?” You squeak.

Mark leans against the door frame with crossed arms. “You’re the first in here.”

On the table sits nothing but Mark's takeout and a couple of other snacks. The only fresh thing seems to be the chicken he ordered just an hour ago. Jeno raises an eyebrow at Mark.

“Oh, Y/N, can I tell you something before the others arrive?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure.”

“But Jeno can’t hear about it.”

What is it this time?

Mark isn't even sure of what he should say to you. Maybe he should flat-out admit that he's in a bet to make Jeno jealous.

Maybe he should admit a little secret he’s been keeping to himself for years — he finds you kind of cute.

It’s not something he holds as he would a crush, that would be wrong of him. He just always considered his best friend lucky for bagging someone as great as you. You’re someone he likes to look at and converse with — it’s nothing about that kind of attraction, at least he thinks. Mark isn’t here to homewreck, but he can’t help his brain when you’re in the picture.

He shouldn’t talk about that, though. Not when Jeno’s there, not when he’s supposed to be faking a party, not when he’s practically using you to win a bet against his friend.

He feels like a shitty person, but before the college-boy-antics-guilt settles in, you follow Mark behind the door of his kitchen.

“What is it that you wanted to talk about?”

Mark’s pupils dart around, trying to find anything but your face to focus on. “Well, uhm, actually…”

Meanwhile, Jeno has a hunch that the party’s not real when Renjun sends a picture to him. He’s with Jaemin and Chenle, all three looking at the camera with mischievous eyes.

All of his suspicions confirm themselves with question marks and indefinite periods while waiting for you with heated cheeks.

It’s not that he’s clingy — he doesn’t want to admit so — and it’s not that he’s jealous — he can’t admit that either. In all fairness, he just wants you to be safe; he trusts you enough to be in Mark’s presence, but alone with a secret he can’t know about? Why would you be hiding behind a door in Mark’s apartment?

The anxiety creeps under his skin, sending off various signals in his brain to check in on you and his friend.

He walks in on you urging the other to speak. “Come on, Mark, what is it that you wanted to say—”

“If you have anything to say to her, say it to my face too,” Jeno butts in.

Mark blinks. He’s sweating.

He doesn’t know what to do. That is, he didn’t, not until he blurts something out.

"Fine, y'all can do whatever you want in here!" Mark apologizes. "I'm sorry, I don't want to waste your time. You guys can hang around, get more food, sleepover — hell, y'all can fuck and that's fine, I'm just really sorry."

It’s your turn to blink along with Jeno.

“Y-You weren’t gonna say anything?”

Mark’s cheeks turn red as he stumbles over his words. “Okay—where do I start? I was in a bet with Jaemin, and he bet that I could make Jeno jealous.” He uses his hands to communicate after pausing. “Like—okay, I didn’t think it would go this far, I’m sorry.”

But something clicks in his head as soon as he sees Jeno’s beet-red face.

“Though I feel like I won anyway,” he giggles awkwardly. “I think I actually made you jealous for a minute there.”

You turn to your poor boyfriend and find him fully flushed, hands balled into fists, forehead glistening with beads of sweat. Jeno’s eyebrows sit furiously on his tall nose, but his mouth is unsure — that’s when he realizes his envy getting the best of him for at least that moment.

You think it's cute, though. Perhaps you're the worst person for being amused to see your friend play games with your boyfriend.

“So, how much was the bet?” You break the ice, and Jeno turns to you with a shocked face.

“Twenty bucks…” Mark scratches his head, “…I guess it’s worth it?”

You laugh at him, lightly punching his shoulder. At that moment, Jeno's feelings start to blur as he experiences light deja vu before his eyes. With the way you were interacting with Mark before him, he was feeling that creeping jealousy come back. He tries to suppress it as best as he can, but this time it fails — the frustration shows in his face as you laugh and act as if he isn't there.

He’s the boyfriend. He should be the one you’re defending and paying attention to, but for some reason, you don’t mind either you or him getting played with for twenty stupid bucks.

Also, you’re hot as fuck when you’re smiling at someone else, and it frustrates him even more.

“We can do anything here, yeah?” Jeno speaks up.

Mark smiles. “Yeah. I don’t mind at all, it’s my little peace offering.”

Without another word, Jeno grabs your hand as he drags you out of the room. He runs to Mark’s bedroom, holding you firmly, closing the door only slightly shut with the other.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hiss. “You can’t just dart out like that! And my hand hurts a bit.”

At that, Jeno wordlessly inspects your wrist, thinking he hurt you in the midst of his envy — he’s also avoiding your queries.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous, but there’s no reason to be.” The reassurance doesn’t work as his eyes fixate on your hand. “It’s just a bet between them, and at the end of the day, I still love you.”

Your words fall on semi-deaf ears, the only visual effect being his cheeks getting a shade deeper. He fidgets with your fingers.

Mildly frustrated yourself, you reach out with both hands to cup his face and refocus on yours. “Jeno.”

The look he gives you sends a signal off in your head.

What seems to be hearts form in his eyes. He looks like he wants to be possessive, but he wants you to own him. Make him yours. It’s a look you’ve seen many times on his face but you can’t pinpoint the exact reason why it still gets you every time.

Like a pleading puppy, his cheeks sink into your palms as he stares back into you.

“I just…” Jeno clears his throat, “I don’t want you to be played with like that. And I-I want to be just yours.”

Your shock softens as you rub your thumbs across his cheekbones. “Oh lovely, there’s nothing to worry about. I really love you.”

He unexpectedly lunges his head forward, trapping your lips in a loving kiss. It takes a full ten seconds, eyes closed and heads tilted to find each other’s connection between the mouths, and you pull away with a huff.

“Jeno, we shouldn’t.”

You know that this usually escalates to something more than just stolen kisses. You try to stop it before anything, and your boyfriend knows this, but he doesn’t stop at all.

“Mark said we can do anything.”

You push his chest gently. “That’s not a go signal!”

“Yeah, but if anything, Mark should be the shameful one.”

Before you could question it, Jeno nods his head towards the creaked open door, revealing Mark standing behind it.

He was caught listening in.

“Hey, d-don’t take this wrong,” Mark stutters, “Was just gonna ask why you ran out on me!”

For some reason, you aren’t mad about it.

Jeno’s weirded out, that’s for sure — but neither of you can stay too mad. He had his reasons to look for you but not to ogle for that long, but maybe it’s the heat post-kiss that drives your head to a place where it shouldn’t be; especially not in team leader Mark’s house.

But it’s going there.

“I guess we’re all forgetting our manners,” you suggest with high eyebrows. Your voice, however, takes on a deeper tone with a timbre that Mark hasn’t heard — but your boyfriend knows too well.

Mark observes as your boyfriend shivers. He looks at you surprised as if he didn’t just kiss you in his best friend’s house; he knows you could make it worse.

“If you hadn’t been so nosy, I would’ve invited you, you know.”

That’s more than enough of a signal to get Mark and Jeno’s heads spiraling.

Jeno isn’t too sure what you mean. He does, but he doesn’t know why you’re acting so coy — like you were never caught off-guard. As your boyfriend, he knows your antics, but as a separate person, he isn’t too sure how to think of your thinking.

Inviting Mark to step into the same room, you reach your fingers out and curl them towards you.

“Jeno was gonna be mine for the night. It wouldn’t hurt if I could just have another toy to play with though, yeah?”

You only lay your eyes on your boyfriend at the last word. It isn’t a look of confirmation, but rather assertion — you stated it like a fact and he isn’t ready to react before you glare at him. There’s only one answer to you, and Jeno nods, making you smirk proudly.

Mark simply watches speechlessly until you smile at him.

"I mean, as you said, we could do anything. It's still your house though, so feel free to call it off..." The wind that blows as your words slow down seems to add to the heat growing in Mark's cheeks. The warmth under his skin only boils as he notices Jeno's lack of protest — worse, he sees compliance and anticipation.

He gulps as he realizes that he doesn’t want to call it off.

“So what? Care to join?”

The three have you have waited long enough for a response but his house slippers are glued to the floor. His mouth hangs open for a response but nothing leaves him.

A chuckle leaves your mouth as you take the step to inch closer to him while holding your boyfriend's hand at the back.

“Don’t be shy,” your free hand snakes up to Mark’s shoulder, “I don’t bite.”

It's a lie as per Jeno's eyes. You'll bite if presented with the consent.

Just as soon as Mark musters up a response, he finds your lips on his cheek as you pull him closer to your boyfriend. The proximity and sudden actions kill him bit by bit from the inside out. A tent forms in his pants but he thinks nothing of it when you kiss him on the lips right after.

Jeno watches with no hint of jealousy, but a watering mouth follows.

Mark savors the taste of your lips for a second, then another — before it’s all gone as you pull away with a mischievous smile.

Grabbing his chin with one hand, your thumb swipes past his wetted plump lower lip. You tilt his head slightly towards Jeno, letting your boyfriend watch as you slip your thumb inside his mouth. Mark's eyes light up, watching your face as you fixate on his mouth.

He instinctively attempts to suck your thumb, but you pry his mouth open with your other hand’s fingers, hooking his head up by his front teeth. It’s fully exposed now, Mark’s tongue out with saliva flowing from the roof of his mouth, down onto strong teeth, all the way to your index and middle fingers. Jeno speechlessly savors the sight of you leaning down to kiss his best friend’s tongue.

Desire fills him as you press your lips firmly against his tongue, smiling, then pulling back to admire the flustered mess you’ve made of the boy. Your boyfriend enjoys the view, inching close to the both of you to kiss your lips right after. Your hands never leave Mark’s open mouth.

“Kiss him.” Your index finger tugs on the corner of Mark’s lips to feign a smile. “See? He’s waiting for it.”

Jeno eyes his teammate with lust. He closes his eyes and mirrors your antics, kissing not just Mark’s tongue but his teeth too, his lips, and any inch of flesh he can get. He licks the spit in his mouth and gulps after each kiss.

As Jeno pulls away, you leave Mark’s mouth alone, making the boy cough at the sudden absence of you both — but he smiles right after.

“Fuck,” he simply whispers.

Proud of what you’ve done, you turn to make out with Jeno while your wet hands travel down to tug at a belt hoop on Mark’s pants. The signal hits him late, causing him to hurriedly unbutton his pants. You laugh into Jeno’s kiss.

“Look at this boy, he doesn’t know what to do.”

“Always like that,” Jeno comments. “He’s the cutest when he’s panicked.”

Mark’s head shoots up at Jeno. Cute? Since when was he cute to him?

It takes long the boy a minute — he zones out for a few seconds as you and Jeno start kissing up his sides, from the neck down to his hips. He can't believe anything that's happening. Whatever this was, the sudden thing he'd gotten himself into while in his own home, he couldn't seem to pull himself away from it. A magnetic force is locking him in as you suck on his neck.

Mark moans, deliciously caught by Jeno’s mouth as he makes out with him briefly while holding him firmly by the waist. Mark can feel Jeno’s hard length, straining painfully against Mark’s back. His own cock hangs against his boxers, the crotch exposed as you pull his unbuttoned pants down.

His vision blurs. His mouth salivates but feels dry. He begins to get dizzy — he can't black out though, and even if none of this is quite right, he isn't mad at all. He loves it.

The desire in him burns as you push your own body onto the bed, admiring the two boys before you.

Your hand cups your boyfriend’s ass, digging your palm inside his back pocket. “Jeno, get your pants off now.”

“Want you to help me too.” He responds with a pout.

“How about you ask your friend over here to assist you?”

Jeno obediently turns to Mark with an expression akin to that of an excited puppy. It’s another sight that only you have seen, and Mark thinks it’s an honor to see it himself; his brain lags at the adorable blink Jeno gives, before pawing at his crotch.

“You’re so hard.”

“I know. Please help me.”

It doesn’t take Mark too long this time to fully respond to this request. He eagerly reaches for the button on Jeno’s pants and frees the strained crotch, leaving him in his boxers.

Something gets the best of him. Maybe it's because this is all wrong, or maybe it's a pent-up expression of all the times he's seen his best friend in boxers — it drives him more insane than it should, seeing his length while they change in the locker rooms — but whatever it is, it drives him to pull at the hem of his boxers, taking a peek at his cock.

And fuck, is he packing a lot.

Jeno's cock is veiny and it pulses as Mark ogles at it. It's long and thick enough — it might be a bit longer than Mark's, he thinks. It's veiny, the tip red and shapely. His balls hang not too far from his cock, barely seen from the size that greeted him for a second's worth. The shaft has a curve that greets Mark with a twitch.

The boy turns to you as if to ask permission, to which he does: “May I please play with him?”

“Not yet,” you tilt your head. “A bit too eager now, aren’t we?”

“But he—we—” he loses the words in his throat. His finger leaves the hem of Jeno’s boxers, but the boy cups his hip in desperation.

"I only allowed you to help him pull it down." At that, Mark's face sours. He salivates at the picture of Jeno's cock. He had never thought of his friend that way, never really considered the invitation that was always there — for the sake of "being bros." But now that it's here, you delay him the opportunity; so close yet so far.

Mark’s fingers only leave Jeno’s boxers when the man looks at him with an obedient eye.

“Let him play with you first.” Your voice almost echoes through the room. Jeno nods as if he received a secret command, only understood by you and him. Was it the curl in your tone that caused him to act?

Either way, it shocks Mark slightly when Jeno's strong arms pull him by his shoulders. His hands then crawl both behind his head and then down to his hips, bringing the two bodies impossibly closer — Jeno seems unfazed as he pulls Mark's shirt off next. He's used to the sight of his toned body, but seeing his chest flush in both embarrassment and lust is a new sight that budges Jeno's mouth into a soft smile.

“Mark, I want you to relax and enjoy. Jeno’s really good and I want him to be good to you.”

His hands graze lightly down Mark's body. The boy's skin raises into bumps of a once-pale, now-flushed frenzy, his body hairs rising as the other's delicate fingertips trail down his exposed arms and sides. Mark's chest is heaving, unable to catch a break or a breath.

It's all worse when Jeno kisses him once more, taking advantage of his open mouth. His hands stay on Mark's chest, fingers looking for his nipples — he finds them quickly and prods at them with pressure so good that it makes Mark moan. You laugh as if you're right; your boyfriend's really good, and the boy you've been eyeing is taking it well.

However, you’re getting impatient, having this go for too long for you to be satisfied.

You take good use of both of your hands and pull down their boxers, each hand being careful yet swift as you fist the fabric out of their skin, watching their beautiful cocks bounce. This interrupts the kissing — they gasp in unison and it’s music to your ears.

Unfortunately, you don’t follow up with any more words, leaving them to look at you with wide eyes. All you do is giggle to yourself, pat the tips of their oversensitive and deliciously hard lengths, and silently command them to do something.

Jeno acts first: eyes darting down to Mark's impressive length, he slides his thick cock beside the other. Their shafts rub, making Mark bite his lip, but his mouth opens anyway as their reddish-pink tips kiss each other.

Their size differences are more apparent this way; Jeno's cock seems thicker, and Mark's is longer. Deep in hyper-analysis, you urge them once again to rub their cocks together with simultaneous handjobs.

The sudden reintroduction of their hands leaves Mark squirming next to Jeno. He instinctively holds onto his shoulders for support, an adorable sight that neither of you has ever seen nor expected from "the dependable Mark."

You're slow with it first. Your hand makes its way from the tips, thumbs prodding playfully at the tiny holes sitting atop, only for your fingers to form rings, wrapping each individual digit around gradually as your palms slide down their lengths. Once you've wrapped the pinky around, you're at the base of their cocks, teasing to cup their balls — but before they could even moan for more, you're sliding up again. After a few more strokes, the pace picking up with each full slide up and down, they hump your hands with your pace until you pull away.

“I can’t be doing all the work.”

Your words are intimidating. The two boys take it with confusion as they lock eyes for a moment, cocks twitching centimeters away from each other.

Out of pure desperation, Mark thrusts his hips upward, rubbing his cock well up against Jeno's. The friction leaves him breathless, sharp bursts of pleasure combing through his nerves. With their closeness, Jeno could only mirror his movement in response. He holds Mark by his face with one hand, reaching his other down to connect their tips in his palm. The gesture shocks them both, the distance closing into zero inches, crotches and groomed bush hair pressed together.

You catch wind of Jeno’s heavy breaths. “You’re panting, baby.”

He looks up at you through hooded eyes, head thrown slightly back in pleasure. “I’m excited.”

“Such a puppy.”

Mark looks back and forth between the both of you as you exchange hot words. The buildup of heat in his stomach goes further down to his crotch until Jeno could feel the warmth on his cock's leaking tip. Embarrassed, he wordlessly attempts to turn his head away, but your hands—slimy as they are—hold his chin in place. He seems excited too, Jeno thinks to himself.

You move your hand with Mark’s chin on it close to your boyfriend’s face, coercing Jeno to kiss him again. Their mouths quickly open, jutting their tongues out to greet each other as they practically hump each other with their cocks pressed close. Jeno breaks away from the kiss to breathe, resting his forehead on Mark’s — the eye contact that they share after doesn’t break, though.

It’s an intense stare that holds no hard feelings, only incredibly hard cocks rubbing together as they near their highs. Mark seems to chase it first, but before anything could happen, you cock your head to the side.

You slap Mark’s bulging cock with a fierce spank.

It hurts only lightly, only since you slapped it with less of a force and more of a flick of your hand, but it still stings. Mark almost falls over, only caught by Jeno’s strong and muscular arms.

“What was that for?” Tears well up in his eyes but he doesn’t sound upset at all. He just genuinely wants to ask why he was denied the high and you can hear nothing but desperation in his voice.

All you do, though, is laugh in response. Jeno looks at him with fond eyes too, except he knows he’s in trouble next: his cock also started leaking precum. You run the pad of your thumb atop his leaking hole, blocking the flow ever so slightly. You then guide your boyfriend’s cock back to Mark’s, but you hold their shafts together in place with your one stretched hand, precum mixing and all.

“We’ve barely even started and you’re both acting like this?” Your voice is sultry yet stern.

The two merely whimper and shy their faces away. Mark looks down at the scene and amusement hits him all at once. The sight of his body and Jeno’s, naked and sweaty and held together by a singular hand on their cocks, makes him shiver and bite his lip.

“Sorry,” Jeno utters first, “I-It just felt too good.”

A breeze bellows through the room and it leaves all three of you with your hair raised, but you don’t budge a single bit. You turn to Mark.

“I…” Mark starts to speak yet nothing of substance comes out.

“Excuses are nothing, I know you’re both desperate.” Your hand leaves their slimy cocks. You don’t hesitate as you bring a finger to your mouth, tasting their sins as they writhe before you in slight embarrassment.

“How about you both show me how much you want me?”

It’s not supposed to be as shocking as it is, but the realization hits them both incredibly late that you’re still fully clothed, mostly untouched, left to be their eye candy as they fondled each other earlier. Jeno and Mark’s gazes fall through your entire body in all directions as they plot how they could start pleasing you.

Even if they both clearly wanted you, they restrained themselves and took out their desires on each other. That’s very obedient and patient of them, you think, and you don’t think it’s wrong to enjoy the sight.

Jeno's grasp on Mark loosens and leaves as he inches towards you, sweat dripping and everything, closing his face in on yours to kiss your lips deeply. You two always do this, accustomed to each other's rushes of warmth and intimacy every single time you kiss, and so it feels natural as Jeno latches his mouth on your neck next. His hands, trembling slightly yet not at all unsure, make their way to trace up the outline of your sides until they find your breasts.

He breaks away from working on a neck hickey as he examines your chest, restrained by layers of clothing that he wants off. Instead of impatiently reaching over the fabric, he takes his time to lift it from under and urge you to move it over your head. Mark watches intently, almost studying the movements while he refrains from reaching down for his pulsating cock.

Dare he even touch himself to the sight as he may be punished by not just you, but also Jeno.

“Not gonna do anything?” Jeno faces Mark with a smirk.

Mark stammers as he finds his words to ask permission. “Dude—uhm, can I?”

You laugh at how his hands hesitate to touch you, eager to even get ahold of your bra but still too scared.

“Please?”

All you do is smile with a nod. Jeno gives him way, pointing at the hook of the bra.

He first grabs ahold of your breasts by holding the bra cups, only to slide his hands to the sides of the undergarment, tracing your upper body until he's made his way backward; his fingertips find the hooks, unclasping them with only a bit of struggle — he knows what he's doing, he just gets nervous as your boobs flow out of the loosened bra.

It takes him a moment to even acknowledge that the beautiful view of your boobs inches away from his chest is all his doing. Jeno lets out a light snort, swinging his arm over Mark's red shoulders. He's blushing all over, flustered to high heavens.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Damn right,” Mark agrees. “You’re fucking lucky, dude.”

Jeno pecks Mark’s heated cheek. “So don’t bring her in the next bets, yeah?”

The things that they say ring through your ears loudly. You’re living for Jeno’s protectiveness, Mark’s shocked expression, and the fact that they both proceed to work their way on your lower half.

They urge you out of your pants, the two men helping your legs out, kissing your skin as they expose themselves. You can't help but chuckle, moan a little bit, and even grab onto their skilled yet calloused hands. The two are unexpectedly gentle, working surprisingly in tandem to even just get you out of your clothes, all until you're naked.

All until they’re yours.

Jeno ends up kneeling down in front of you like a patient dog. Mark stands by your side, waiting.

As adorable as they are, you’re growing desperate for some more action, so you grab ahold of Mark’s cock and whisper in his ear.

“Be a dear and tell my baby to kiss me there.”

Mark gulps, tongue caught in a twist as he musters the courage to relay it to Jeno.

“Uhh, sh-she said…lick—no, kiss her.”

Jeno looks up at you in confirmation. You pet his head with your other hand. There are hearts in his eyes.

Without another word, Jeno doesn’t waste a second as he dives his head down.

Fiddling between your legs, he holds you by the backs of your inner thighs and does as he’s told. He nudges his nose around the area to get himself closer and closer to your heat. He kisses you, puckering his lips and smacking your clit ever so sweetly. He gets a light taste of your sweetness dripping wild from watching the two men act desperately earlier. You hum in content, stroking Mark's cock—still in your hand—ever so slightly.

Mark dips his head onto your neck. He attempts to kiss you in the same way Jeno does, warm and loving. Jeno himself digs his head further between your thighs, licking wide stripes with his tongue tapering up to the tip as he gets back on your clit. You shiver with a lustful smile.

Jeno continues to swirl his tongue from your clit back down to your entrance, allowing your slick to mix in with his drool. Mark refuses to even look you in the eye from all of the sinful sounds he’s hearing — you remedy that by pecking a kiss on his cheek mole.

“If you weren’t so cute, you’d be dead by now.”

Mark’s cock stiffens at that. It throbs, a long vein pulsing against your palm from your words alone. A part of him hates to admit that he’s glad he took up the bet if it led him here.

You grab a fistful of your boyfriend’s hair out of nowhere, pulling slightly at his scalp to signal him up. He misreads this at first, instead nodding his head back into your cunt, but you let out a light grunt and a hiss.

“Mmph—Sorry,” Jeno says, hands wobbling awkwardly at the backs of your thighs for support. “Needed me, baby?”

You raise an eyebrow. “I wanted you to only kiss me there, but…”

Jeno dips his head to apologize. He mutters on and on about how good you tasted, how sweet it felt, how lovely and velvety the skin around your clit was while he licked it. Mark’s face heats up impossibly more at the descriptions and subtle praises that Jeno has for your pussy.

“Oh, look who’s the jealous one now.”

Mark’s sweating bullets. “I-I’m not!”

“You can have a turn at it if you’d like.” The suggestion runs off your lips casually. So casual that it leaves him slightly puzzled, cock still aching in your hand.

“How about only ten seconds in my cunt?”

He blinks three times. You’re all down to absurd means of getting each other off and you’re about to fully abandon the circumstances that got you here. That got the both of them here.

He whips his head towards your boyfriend for approval, and Jeno only nods his head in your direction. "Her orders, man."

You laugh and kiss Mark, urging him down on the bed behind him. You push him by his shoulders and the look on his face, wide eyes and all, has you smirking.

“Ten seconds. Just to try it.”

You align your slit to match his red, slimy tip, sliding your cunt from your clit down to your wet entrance. You don’t let him in just yet, instead teasing him with a few slides, letting him feel the velvety friction of your pussy lips before he gets a taste of everything else.

“That feels good,” he breathes out.

“It’s not even in yet.”

“I’m just feeling as much as I can,” Mark smiles nervously. “I only got ten seconds after this—”

Before he could even get cocky, you fully sit down on his cock, slamming your cunt until he’s all the way inside.

He shivers, hitting his head back on the bed in pure pleasure. The wetness of your walls envelops him with a warmth he hasn’t felt anywhere else. Slowly yet surely, he begins to lose his mind to delirium as his cock throbs, almost vibrating inside you.

“Ten,” Jeno counts for you, watching the part where you both connect as he sits politely next to you both.

He refuses to touch himself even as he watches you lift your lower half away from Mark, the slick of your essence and leftover drool from Jeno slipping down the cock.

“Nine,” he continues, breath hitching as you wiggle your hips.

At this point, only Mark's tip is inside you, but before he can even do anything, you slam your hips back down. The smack of your ass on his thighs makes him groan loudly, the sweetness of his voice echoing in your ears.

“Eight.” You repeat your motions, swirling your hips slightly and letting the wetness drip ever so gracefully down your thighs onto his. “Seven.”

Mark rolls his eyes back. His balls hurt at this point. He’s strained and frustrated.

He turns his head. “Holy shit, Jeno, I’ll cum—”

“Hold it, easy now.” Unimpressed, Jeno instead leans forward to talk him down.

“Five,” he whispers, “four…”

All Mark can do is whimper through a bitten lip. Your hands roam around his chest for support, the unforgiving sensations haunting his skin as you touch his most sensitive areas.

“Three…”

Mark hisses. “Won’t you count any fucking slower?”

“Oh, you want me to cut it out?” You say with a stop.

Regret immediately washes over his wide eyes as you lift yourself off his dick.

“So close yet so far. What a pity,” you laugh, turning to your sweet boyfriend and feeling him up instead.

You maneuver your hips and align yourself over Jeno’s cock, teasing him the same way you did with Mark. You don’t enter yet and keep your wetness dripping on him before giving the neglected boy a wink.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t try my ass.”

A shock instantly rushes through his veins, coloring his skin flushed once more. He's been sweating, and it worsened once you suggested it. He tries to say anything about it but falls short of words when you urge him closer with the call of your fingers. Jeno watches in awe, lightly frustrated that his cock is so close to your cunt.

You grab Mark from the back, guiding his hips close to yours. He’s kneeling, holding onto your waist and hips for stability, ready to position his cock by your second entrance. He licks his hand, a generous amount of spit and drool wetting it, just more than enough for him to lube up your hole to take him.

Jeno’s cock throbs cutely from under, so you coo and kiss his tip with the warmth of your clit. He bites back a whimper.

It isn’t long before you invite Mark to enter you, lining up and guiding his cock inside, slowly stretching your tightest hole until the tip is in. Mark’s breathing heavily, sweating buckets as he feels how tight it is, hugging just the tip so hard that he could explode at any given moment.

You push your lower half back, adjusting to his girth and length, taking him inch by inch. You’re panting too, strained little moans escaping your throat as you struggle and succeed to take him all the way to the middle.

Once you’re nearly bottoming him out, you both still in place, allowing yourselves time to adjust.

Jeno still looks pitiful with his cock pushed against nothing but your clit. It only gives you an idea.

“Mark. Be a dear and fuck me hard when we’re good, yeah?”

Confused, he agrees with a nod. You both signal each other when it feels best to move, and with that, Mark fully pulls back before slamming his entire length back into your fit little ass.

The force from his thrust pushes you forward, sinking Jeno’s cock deep into your pussy.

The sudden action leaves Jeno groaning and Mark grunting. Both of their cocks fill you up with no room to breathe, the sensation of the two pulsating and hard lengths making you shake. You feel yourself close but you hold back for their sake.

Another thrust from Mark sends your cunt further down on Jeno’s cock. Your boyfriend even begins moving his hips, emptying your pussy only to fill it back up again. The other doesn’t stop, almost losing himself as he goes faster and faster, bit by bit, ecstasy hitting him soon.

“Mark, baby, you’re doing so good.”

Eyes lighting up, it takes five seconds—and a few moans in between—for Mark to realize that he’s the baby that you’re referring to.

Jeno also catches it late, but instead of the jealousy seeping back into his veins, the opposite manifests. He smiles, somehow proud of Mark for sharing a name that they both earned from you.

“Baby, come on, make me cum.”

You lean back, an arm thrown over to hold onto Mark for support. He keeps going, pushing his cock against your limit with each thrust, all the while Jeno leans forward to reach your clit and tease it.

Being filled and fucked all at once like this has all three of you on edge, but Mark can’t take it — he slips out of your ass and cums all over your back.

You don’t mind, instead falling forward to bounce on Jeno’s cock while he cums inside you next. That doesn’t stop him from flicking your clit with his experienced fingers, and you squirt all over him.

All three of you collapse on the bed, trying to overcome your highs.

“…That was fucking insane, man.”

Mark is the first to sit up, eyeing the both of you fucked out on his own bed. He has to clean up a lot, so much that it’s lightly embarrassing, but none of you seem to mind at all at that moment.

“Yo Jeno.”

Too tired to move his body, he simply raises an eyebrow while looking back at Mark. “What’s up?”

"I swear on my dick I'm not playing with you and Y/N, aight?" He scratches the back of his head, suddenly getting shy. "And, uh, I'm still sorry for the bet."

“Nah, it’s good. Just say you won, get the money, and run.”

Mark realizes that it could’ve just been that easy, that he didn’t have to do any of that. It’s way too late now, but at least he won and got laid.

“...And you can treat us to dinner with that cash,” Jeno adds with a wink.

The boy simply rubs his flushed face in his hands and sighs. Dinner with his newfound fuckmates isn’t so bad after all.

“Well, you’re free to shower, clean up, sleep, do whatever—”

You grab ahold of Mark’s arm and pull him back on the bed. He falls right between you and Jeno’s warm bodies.

Jeno shushes him with a side hug, and you giggle softly. Somehow none of this feels as disgusting as it should be while all three of you are in each other’s arms.

[paddockletters]

we always come back to each other | charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader summary: you thought you’d moved on, but when fate brings you and Charles back together during a race weekend, old feelings resurface. Can you break the cycle, or are some things too broken to fix? author's note as I always say... english is not my first language so sorry me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

The paddock was alive with its usual buzz—mechanics, journalists, fans, and the unmistakable scent of burning rubber in the air. As I walked through it, I couldn’t help but feel out of place. This used to be so familiar, second nature. Now, it felt foreign, like I was walking through a chapter of my life I wasn’t sure belonged to me anymore.

I hadn’t planned on coming back here. The breakup with Charles had been clean in some ways, at least on the surface. We had gone our separate ways, focused on our own lives, as if we hadn’t been each other's world for so long. But Monaco was a small city, and the world of Formula 1 even smaller.

I was here for work. That’s what I told myself. A quick interview with one of the drivers, a feature piece on the lifestyle surrounding the sport. I didn’t have to bump into him. I didn’t have to see him. At least, that’s what I kept repeating in my head.

But it felt inevitable.

The first memory hit me hard as I passed Ferrari’s garage. It was impossible to avoid. I could still remember the late nights standing beside him, just watching him talk to the team, his confidence radiating even after a hard race. The garage was always his sanctuary, but for a while, it had been mine too—until I realized there was no room for both of us.

“Y/N, hey!” A voice broke through my thoughts. I turned to see Carmen, George’s girlfriend, waving at me with a smile. She jogged over, her familiar energy cutting through the heavy emotions clouding my mind.

“Carmen,” I said, forcing a smile. We had bonded back when we were both still relatively new to the F1 scene, both trying to find our place in this chaotic world.

“It’s been ages,” she said, hugging me tightly. “What are you doing here? I didn’t think you’d be back after, you know…”

I winced. The breakup with Charles had been quiet, no major headlines, but the people in this circle knew. They always knew.

“I’m just here for work,” I replied, hoping she wouldn’t push further.

But Carmen had always been perceptive. She glanced over my shoulder, and I followed her gaze—straight to Charles, standing with his back to us, talking to Carlos Sainz and a few team members. My heart lurched in my chest. He looked so… unchanged. Like he had stepped straight out of my memories.

“You going to talk to him?” Carmen asked softly.

I shook my head quickly. “No, it’s… we’re not...”

Carmen gave me a knowing look, her lips curving into a sad smile. “I get it. But you know, we always find our way back to the people who matter, even if it’s painful.”

The flashbacks started coming harder as the day went on. Each familiar sight—a car being wheeled into the garage, a reporter setting up for an interview, the roar of engines—triggered memories I had tried so hard to bury.

One particular memory hit me like a punch in the gut.

We were in Charles’ apartment, lying in bed after a rare weekend off. The curtains fluttered gently in the breeze, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside didn’t exist. I remember tracing the outline of his jaw, feeling the soft stubble beneath my fingers.

"Do you think we'll always come back to each other?" I had asked him, my voice barely a whisper.

Charles had smiled, pulling me closer. "Always."

I had believed him. I believed that no matter what, we would always find a way back to each other, that nothing could break us apart.

But racing had. Racing had broken us apart piece by piece, and neither of us had known how to stop it.

Later that evening, after most of the media duties were done, I found myself lingering near the hospitality area. Carmen had long since left to find George, and I had promised myself I’d leave too. But instead, I sat down at a table with a glass of water, my mind still racing.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice cut through the noise.

The voice, soft yet achingly familiar. It was Charles, standing there with a hesitant look on his face. He seemed just as conflicted as I felt. His Ferrari gear clung to him, the red still as vibrant as I remembered, though the warmth in his eyes seemed a little dimmer.

For a moment, we just stared at each other. A wave of memories rushed through me—late nights in his Monaco apartment, his laughter echoing in my ear, the way he used to pull me close after a bad race. But those good memories were always followed by the bad. The fights, the cold silences, the feeling of being left behind while he sped off to the next track, the next race.

I didn’t know if I wanted to hug him or walk away. Instead, I forced a smile.

"Hey," I managed to say, my voice barely audible over the noise around us.

“Can I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the empty chair across from me.

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. This was the moment I had been dreading, but also the one I couldn’t seem to avoid.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. It was strange, sitting there together after so much time apart. There were so many things I wanted to say, so many questions I wanted to ask, but the words felt stuck in my throat.

His name felt strange on my lips, like I had forgotten how to say it. But it didn’t stop the memories from crashing in. All the times I had called his name—after his wins, his losses, his moments of doubt. But now, it was like we were strangers.

"You look... good," Charles finally said, breaking the silence.

I forced a small smile. "So do you."

He chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s been a while.”

I nodded. “Yeah, it has.”

“How… how have you been?” he asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The confident driver the world saw wasn’t sitting here right now. This was just Charles, the man I had loved, who had broken my heart without even realizing it.

“I’ve been good,” I lied. I couldn’t bring myself to admit how lost I had been without him, how empty my life felt after we ended things. “Busy, you know. Work.”

“Yeah, same,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s good to see you.”

I nodded, even though it hurt. Seeing him wasn’t good. It wasn’t easy. It was like reopening a wound that had barely begun to heal.

“I heard you’ve been doing some great things,” he added, his voice low. “I always knew you would.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep it together. “Thanks.”

The tension between us was thick, almost suffocating.

“I never wanted things to end the way they did,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with regret. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a wave of emotions crash over me. “Then why did you let it happen?”

He looked down at his hands, the silence stretching between us. “I don’t know. I thought I could balance everything—racing, us. But I guess I couldn’t. And by the time I realized it, it was too late.”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Yeah, it was.”

Charles’ eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw the Charles I had fallen in love with—the one who had made me believe we could survive anything. But that Charles had been lost to the world of F1 long ago.

“We always come back to each other,” he said softly, repeating the words we had once whispered in the dark.

I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. “Maybe we do, but it doesn’t mean we should.”

Charles looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he just sat there, staring at me like he was trying to memorize my face all over again.

“I don’t think I can keep coming back,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

Flashbacks of happier times haunted me as I walked away from him. The late nights spent watching movies in his apartment, the way he would wrap his arms around me after a tough race, whispering promises of forever. But those moments felt distant now, like memories from another life.

The silence stretched between us, heavy and awkward. But before I could come up with an excuse to leave, I heard another voice.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

I turned to see Pascale, Charles’ mother, approaching us with a smile. My heart twisted painfully at the sight of her. I hadn’t just lost Charles when we broke up; I’d lost his whole family. Pascale had always treated me like a daughter, inviting me to Sunday dinners and family events. Seeing her now reminded me of what I’d walked away from.

“Hi, Pascale,” I said, forcing another smile.

“It’s been so long,” she said, pulling me into a hug before I had a chance to protest. “How have you been?”

I caught Charles’ gaze over her shoulder and felt my throat tighten. “I’ve been okay. Just, you know, work keeps me busy.”

Pascale smiled warmly, but her eyes flicked between me and Charles, clearly picking up on the tension. “Well, it’s lovely to see you both. I always thought you made such a wonderful team.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Once upon a time, we had been a team. But that was a lifetime ago.

“I should get going,” I said quickly, stepping back from her. “Lots of interviews to do.”

Charles’ face fell slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Pascale gave me a sympathetic smile, squeezing my hand. “It was so nice to see you, ma chérie.”

As I walked away, I could feel their eyes on me, but I didn’t turn back. I didn’t trust myself to. I needed to get out of there, to breathe.

I found myself sitting at dinner with some of the other drivers and their girlfriends. Carmen sat beside me, giving me a reassuring smile. Pierre and Kika were across the table, laughing together, completely in sync. Even Lando sat with his latest girlfriend, radiating joy.

I felt like an outsider.

Midway through dinner, Kika leaned over, her eyes full of sympathy. “You know, Y/N, Charles is still in love with you.”

I blinked, startled by her sudden comment. “I don’t think that’s enough anymore.”

She smiled sadly, nodding in understanding. “Maybe. But sometimes love doesn’t fix what’s already broken.”

Her words lingered in the back of my mind for the rest of the evening.

Later, at my hotel room I scrolled through my messages, landing on one from my best friend, Lisa. She had been there for me through every step of my break-up with Charles, listening to my late-night rants, offering advice I never took.

Me: I saw him.

It took her less than a minute to reply.

Lisa: Oh my God. How was it??

Me: Awkward. His mom was there too.

Lisa: Ouch. Did you talk to him?

Me: Yeah, but it was weird. I don’t know why it still hurts this much.

Lisa: Because you still love him.

I stared at her words, my heart sinking. Did I still love him? Part of me wanted to deny it, to say I had moved on. But the truth was, I hadn’t. I never really had.

Me: He hasn’t changed, has he?

Lisa: Not unless he learned how to balance his life with racing. You know that was always the problem.

I sighed, leaning back against the pillows. Charles had never learned how to make room for me in his world. I had always been second place to racing, and it had worn me down until there was nothing left.

Lisa: What are you going to do?

I stared at my phone, feeling the weight of the decision hanging over me. I knew I had to make a choice, one that would finally let me move on.

The next day, I walked through the paddock again, my mind swirling with everything Lisa had said. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face Charles again, but I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever.

As I passed by the Ferrari garage, I saw him standing there, talking to his team. He looked so at ease in his element, so confident. I remembered all the times I had watched him race, my heart in my throat as I prayed for him to cross the finish line safely.

But now, watching him from a distance, I realized something. Charles had always been a part of me, but I could no longer let him be all of me. I had spent so long loving him, waiting for him, that I had lost sight of who I was outside of our relationship.

I turned away, walking toward the exit. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was making the right choice.

Weeks later, I sat on my balcony, staring out at the sea. Life had moved on, as it always did, but there was still a part of me that clung to the past. I hadn’t spoken to Charles since that night. I hadn’t wanted to. We were always drawn back to each other, but this time, I needed to break the cycle.

Sitting there, watching the sunset, I realized something.

We had always come back to each other because we didn’t know how to let go. We had clung to the idea of what we could be, ignoring the reality of what we were. But now, I knew I had to let him go—for good.

I picked up my phone, scrolling through old photos of us. There were so many happy memories, so many moments that had made me believe we could make it work. But as I looked at them now, I realized that love alone wasn’t enough. We had loved each other fiercely, but we hadn’t known how to hold onto it.

With a deep breath, I deleted the photos. This time, I wasn’t coming back.

That’s how it ends—with me finally realizing that love wasn’t enough to save us. And as I sat there, the sea breeze tugging at my hair, I knew it was time to move forward. To find a new path, one that didn’t lead back to Charles.

Because sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is walk away.

[innerfare]

Angsty Sabo Headcanons 

Summary: A collection of angsty Sabo headcanons

Genre: Angst

CW: None // SFW

———

Sometimes, Sabo can’t stand the sight of his scars, especially the one on his face. It’s actually the reason he has a little skincare routine. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t overcome his early childhood education, which taught him that men like him are such horrible monsters. He thinks he looks like a monster.  

Sometimes when he gets undressed and turns the shower on, he stares in the mirror while he’s waiting for the water to heat up. He ends up focusing on his scars and wondering if he deserves them. A small part of Sabo thinks he does deserve them. Despite fighting to abolish the system that teaches kids they were born wrong and recognizing it is, in fact, the system that is wrong, Sabo just can’t escape the feeling that he was born wrong. 

Sabo didn’t attack Dragon that day because he wanted to take a shot at the strongest guy on the field, he did it because on some level, he sensed something paternal coming from the man, and it made Sabo lash out; he wanted to kill Dragon like Ace wanted to kill Whitebeard.

“I’m sorry he died, but at least he didn’t die in handcuffs.” This is the only thing that Dragon said to Sabo about Ace, and Sabo latched onto it. At least he didn’t die in handcuffs. He repeats the phrase over and over in his head, a mantra he chants internally every day. He keeps hoping it will make him feel better, but it doesn’t. It makes him feel worse to know the best his brother could have hoped for was to die like a man and not a dog; he shouldn’t have died at all. 

Sabo knows Ace died thinking Sabo would be waiting for him on the other side. He tries to comfort himself with the thought that Ace will be waiting for him, but it doesn’t help. It makes him feel selfish to think Ace died first. It should have been me. 

Sabo doesn’t feel good about having cheated death. He feels like a fraud, a phony, a mistake. He feels like he should be dead. And no matter how many battles he fights and wins, no matter how many enemies he defeats, no matter how many adventures he goes on, he can’t escape the feeling he’s wasting his second chance. Ace wouldn’t waste it the way I am, he tells himself. 

Sabo has nightmares about Ace’s death. The worst part about them is that he has no idea if they’re accurate. Is that how it happened? Is that what it looked like? Is that what adult Ace’s voice sounded like? Is that what Luffy’s scream sounded like? He has no fucking clue, and it tears him up inside. 

A doctor gave Sabo some pills to help him sleep dreamlessly through the night, but taking them makes him feel guilty, as if he’s escaping the punishment he rightfully deserves for not saving Ace. 

Sabo hates sleeping alone. He grew so accustomed to sharing with Luffy and Ace, and even after suffering amnesia, never got used to being alone in bed. Sabo will show up at Koala’s door sometimes at two in the morning and ask if he can sleep with her because being alone reinforces the feeling that he somehow abandoned his family.

When he gets his memories back, Sabo starts sending a little bit of money every month to Dadan. He views it as recompense for the pain he’s certain he caused her by not protecting the boy she raised from the cradle. He won’t go visit her because he’s terrified she’ll scorn him for Ace’s death and turn him away from her doorstep. 

Sabo has a page at the back of his journal where he writes down all the jokes he thinks would make Ace laugh, in addition to other things he wishes he could tell his brother.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[saphronethaleph]

Around The Galaxy In Eighty Hours

Rey left the Falcon behind, walking up the steps on the Ahch-To island, and she fought the urge to run.

It had taken all this struggle to get here. All this time. The map BB-8 had carried… so many who’d been lost on the way… and now she was here.

She was going to ask Luke Skywalker for help. The legendary Jedi Master, the one who had defeated the Emperor.

As she climbed, though, a niggling little feeling began to gnaw at her.

Where was he, anyway?

She’d been assuming he was somewhere high up, and the Force wasn’t pointing her anywhere else. But she couldn’t see him, and as she reached the very top of the stairs… there was no sign of him.

“Master Skywalker?” she asked, looking around. “Master Luke?”

“Jee-dhai?” one of the locals asked, in a curious voice.

“Huh?” Rey replied, turning. “I… well, I don’t think… I want to be, but I’m not one yet… do you know where Master Skywalker is?”

The hooded alien shrugged, and pointed to one of the rock huts.

Curious, Rey entered.

It was immediately obvious Master Skywalker wasn’t in the hut. There wasn’t room. There was barely room for Rey… but, after a moment, she spotted something odd.

A folded piece of flimsiplast, with a metal-rimmed piece of crystal on it.

Taking the crystal, Rey was surprised to find that it felt… warm, and tingly. It fizzed with an unidentifiable but oddly familiar energy, and she turned it over before opening the flimsiplast.

It held only one sentence.

Use the Force on the crystal.

“...is this going to be a riddle?” Rey asked. “Or a trial of some sort?”

Silence answered her, and she took a deep breath before closing her eyes and focusing.

It was still… difficult, to call on the Force at will, but she could do it.

As she did, the crystal glowed, then filaments of light streamed out of it to form a face.

Master Skywalker’s face. She was sure of it.

“To whoever has found this,” he began. “Firstly, if this is Ben… well done for coming back to the light. And if not… I’m glad there are others besides myself who can use the Force without being tainted by the Dark Side. This crystal has been constructed using the techniques of the ancient Holocrons, which would shatter if they were forced open by the Dark Side.

He paused. “The Caretakers have a few of them, in case they need to replace one. Anyway… if you came here, then either the Force guided you here to Ahch-To or you came following the map. And if you came following the map, you came looking for me.”

Master Skywalker’s expression turned rueful. “So I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m not here. I left. I grew up on a desert planet, and this place just… unsettles me. It gives me the creeps to see all that water. Hurricanes should be illegal, and this planet has some really nasty ones… anyway, I’ve moved somewhere where I don’t need to worry about that. You’ll find me in the Bespin system, on Cloud City…

Rey’s eye twitched, as the blue illusion of Master Skywalker’s face listed off an address.

The crystal fizzed slightly, and she dropped it before she could break it somehow, then crouched down and picked it up again – not accessing it with the Force, this time.

“Right,” she said, her voice tight, and turned to go right back down the slope again.

“You’re back early,” Chewbacca said, concern in his voice.

“Luke’s not here,” Rey replied, hitting the switch to raise the Falcon’s ramp. “Do you know where Bespin is?”

Chewie blinked.

“What?” he asked. “Yes, I know where Bespin is… you’re saying he’s on Bespin?”

“Apparently,” Rey replied. “Though I suppose the map is a map to where he went, not where he is. It’s not like he was updating it…”

Cloud City was an amazing sight, though it had begun to pall slightly for Rey when it took them half an hour to get a landing permit.

Eventually Chewbacca called in a favour from someone called Lobot, and ten minutes after that Rey rang the door chime on the address Luke had given her.

Then she stood outside, waiting.

It was strange to be in a completely built environment. Even the ground under her feet ultimately had nothing beneath it but air… and yet all this was kept in the air by technology.

If Rey hadn’t known quite so much about how solidly built repulsorlift units were, she might have been unsettled.

The door hissed open, and a woman looked out. “Yes?”

“I’m looking for Luke Skywalker?” Rey asked, awkwardly.

“Oh!” the woman said. “You know, he didn’t leave a forwarding address, but he did ask that something be given to anyone who came looking for him… hold on a moment, please.”

The door hissed closed again, and Rey leaned on her staff and groaned.

“I’m guessing we’re leaving?” Chewbacca asked.

“We’re leaving,” Rey confirmed. “For somewhere called the Dagobah system.”

She held up the crystal she’d been given. “If you’ve never heard of it, this should help, at least. It’s got a planetary map, as well… and a long, long complaint about vertigo.”

“He did once fall out the bottom of Cloud City,” Chewbacca volunteered. “That would give anyone vertigo… here, anyway.”

“So after spending a month here, I realized what training with Master Yoda had let me forget until then,” the pseudo-visible Jedi Master explained, as Rey focused – not without some annoyance – on the crystal she’d found in a hut. “Which is that Dagobah is damp. I can’t walk very far without sinking into the swamp, the only food available is moss soup… Master Yoda stayed here for decades, and I can see the argument that a Jedi should be inured to physical discomfort, but I just can’t take it any more. I’m going to Ajan Kloss.”

“Really?” Rey asked. “Really?”

She focused, drawing out her anger, and expelled it with a sigh.

Where on Ajan Kloss was she supposed to be looking, anyway?

The holocron-alike crystal shimmered, showing an Ajan Kloss planetary map, and Rey committed it to memory before closing her hand around the delicate-seeming crystal.

“All right,” she said. “Ajan Kloss, then! And there had better be a Jedi Master there.”

There was not.

“So it’s been the rainy season…” the next crystal declared. “And it’s not as swampy as Dagobah or as rainy as Ahch-To, but it’s a lot warmer and the combination is absolute hell. I thought it was the rainy season when I was here before, but it turns out that it was actually the dry season. This is the rainy season, and it never gets dry. Nothing gets dry. The humidity is absolutely one hundred percent constantly. The floor’s covered with millipedes and our robes are growing fungus on them.”

Rey shuddered involuntarily.

It did sound bad.

They were fortunately in the dry season again, or at least she assumed so since the rain coming down outside was only moderately heavy and the geography hadn’t been entirely covered by cloud.

“What’s worse, the plants here even grow at night,” Luke complained. “So that’s it. I’m done with this place. We’re moving somewhere where there’s no need to worry about plant life at all…”

“Are you sure this is necessary?” Rey asked, two hours later.

“Yes,” Chewbacca replied, giving her another parka, and Rey put it on somewhat awkwardly. “You’re from a desert world. You know how Dagobah was cold and wet?”

“I’m having trouble forgetting,” Rey replied.

“Well, that’s about fifteen degrees,” Chewbacca explained. “Hoth is minus forty. I was cold there.”

Rey stared.

“...do you have any more warm clothes?” she asked.

Eventually, with some difficulty, Rey struggled into the ruins of the Rebellion’s Echo Base.

It was below freezing cold, and intensely annoying, and what was worse was that there wasn’t even a Jedi Master there. Instead, there was another crystal.

It mostly contained Luke complaining about how kriffing freezing it was, and that he’d spent three days here before electing to move to the Forest Moon of Endor.

“What is this?” Rey asked, after extracting herself from the parkas and as the Falcon sped towards the Endor system. “Is it some kind of sick joke?”

“I’ll give this for Endor, it’s warmer than Hoth,” Chewbacca contributed.

The Endor map led to an Ewok village, where they treated Chewbacca like an old friend and sniffed at Rey with great suspicion before Chewbacca managed to make himself understood enough to explain that she was a friend.

Then an Ewok shaman said… something… and Rey found herself involved in some kind of blessing ceremony. It was surprisingly useful, in that it actually involved the Force, but Rey was struggling to concentrate by the second hour… and it wasn’t until the fifth that she actually managed to convey the question she had.

The Ewoks discussed amongst themselves, then finally realized what she meant, and led her to a large treetop hut.

An empty hut, with nothing but some folded flimsiplast on the table, and a crystal on top of it.

Rey wanted to scream, but she didn’t want her hosts to take it the wrong way.

“If you’ve ever met Ewoks, you’ll know they’re brave warriors and good people,” Luke said, as Rey slumped over the Dejarik table on the Falcon.

Both she and Chewbacca were watching Luke’s latest message, and part of Rey hoped that wherever it was going to be was far away enough that she could get some rest.

The rest of her was wondering if they could just give up looking.

“But they’re also… a bit much,” Luke went on. “It took a month or two, but ultimately it got to be too much for us, so we decided to move on. This time we’re going to somewhere where we should be able to be alone, and as a bonus we can be out of the rain as well… it’s a lot like a homecoming, in some ways. We’re going to the Great Temple on Yavin Four.”

Chewbacca muttered something, and went to set the autopilot.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I have actually got bored of green,” Rey said, as they flew low over the jungles of Yavin Four. “I didn’t think it was possible to get bored of something that quickly.”

Chewbacca shrugged.

“Are we picking anything up?” he asked.

“Not on the long range,” Rey replied, sitting down and checking the scanners. “Nothing on passive… that’s just because Luke wants to hide, right?”

She detected a note of desperation in her voice. “It’s not because he’s moved on again, right?”

Chewbacca didn’t say anything, but he did raise an eyebrow at her.

Searching the Great Temple took about an hour, and they didn’t find a Jedi Master.

They did, however, find one of the now all-too-familiar crystals, and Rey stared balefully at it before clasping her hands and letting out her anger.

Again.

Then she snatched it up, wanting to know where they were going to have to go this time.

“You know…” Rey said, as they broke orbit. “I actually almost sympathize with that one.”

“You do?” Chewbacca asked.

“Yeah,” Rey agreed. “Knowing that the temples here were literally built by slaves who were members of the original Sith species… it’s a Sith Temple. I imagine any Jedi would be uncomfortable with that.”

She looked down at the crystal. “I really wish he’d put one of these on Ahch-To, though.”

“No argument there,” Chewie mumbled. “At least Naboo is an easy one…”

“I don’t know much about the place,” Rey said. “Only that it was involved with the Clone Wars, somehow. Or maybe something before the Clone Wars.”

The crystal pointed them to a very fine town house in Theed, which did not have Master Luke in it.

Instead, it had a droid, who beeped and whistled at them.

“We’re looking for Master Skywalker,” Rey said. “Please tell me you know where he went.”

The droid beeped again.

“...Master Amidala?” Rey repeated. “But Master Skywalker said to come here…”

“Same person, it’s just his mother’s surname instead of his father’s,” Chewbacca provided. “Show the droid one of the crystals?”

“It can’t hurt,” Rey conceded. “Is this some kind of ancestral home, then?”

She activated one of the crystals, and the droid whistled gleefully before opening an internal compartment and depositing another crystal in her palm.

“Right,” Rey said, rubbing her forehead with her free hand. “It’s a good thing the Falcon is so fast. We must have done a lap of the galaxy by now.”

“We’ve mostly been going through the middle, but yes,” Chewie agreed. “Where now?”

“That’s always the question,” Rey conceded, focusing.

If there was one thing this was good for, it was learning to master her anger.

“I know, I know, I said we’d be here for good,” Luke apologized. “But I ran into a Palpatine on the street yesterday, and it freaked me out.”

He shook his head. “I know, they’re from a different branch of the family, not everyone called Palpatine is evil… but it really unsettled me and I can’t feel comfortable here any more. Not after I heard from Binks about how Palpatine exploited both my parents… and him.”

The Jedi Master let out a long sigh. “But being somewhere I inherited… it helped, really. It reminded me of the other place that I inherited. We’re going back home. Beggar’s Canyon and the Lars homestead. Ben, if you’re the one hearing this… I’m sorry that we couldn’t give you the childhood that my aunt and uncle gave me.”

The force hologram disappeared, and Rey closed her eyes.

“That didn’t even give us a planet,” she said.

“No problem,” Chewbacca replied. “I know where we’re going. I know where Luke grew up.”

He nodded to the droid. “Thanks for your help.”

The droid whistled, waving a probe cheerfully.

Naboo to Tatooine. Mos Eisley to the Jundland Wastes to the Lars homestead, and from there on to Beggar’s Canyon.

Rey could feel the tension building in the air. Like the signs of a sandstorm, but more positive.

Signs of… something. Maybe signs of hope.

“Found something,” Chewbacca said. “Zeroing in on it now.”

The Falcon banked, slowing, and Rey went to the ramp as it opened. Around her, the light transport hovered on repulsorlifts, and she held on to a stanchion as she leaned out into the hot, dry air.

“I can see something!” she reported, through her comlink. “Bring us down another four metres… all right… I’m getting out here, land as near as you can.”

“Got it,” Chewbacca replied, and Rey slipped out of the door.

She landed with a roll, and shaded her eyes to look closely at what she’d spotted.

There was no mistaking it. It was a hangar bay. Built into the side of Beggar’s Canyon, concealed from above except at exactly the right angle, and big enough to service plenty of ships at once.

There were ships there, in fact. Two transport shuttles, a light and utilitarian variety, and a heavier and heavily modified yacht. But there was space for several more, and Rey frowned as she approached.

This didn’t feel empty in the way the other places had been, a difference that only made sense now she’d felt both sides of it.

It felt… lived in.

Then three young adults – a strange four-legged two-armed half-equine, a more familiar Bothan, and a human – came out of a doorway, all looking at her warily.

“Who are you?” the bothan asked. “Why are you here?”

“I’m looking for Master Luke Skywalker,” Rey explained.

“...oh, well, you just missed him,” the half-equine replied. “He’ll be back-”

“Lusa!” the Bothan protested. “Operational security!”

“Right, right,” the now-identified Lusa said. “Why do you want to speak to him?”

“Because we need him,” Rey said, simply. “To fight the First Order. I… brought his old lightsaber?”

She held it out.

“Whoa,” all three youngsters said, at once.

Then the Falcon came flying back over, still looking for a landing spot, and the human gasped.

“Is that the Millennium Falcon?” he asked. “Did you come here with Han Solo and Chewbacca? Does that mean Ben-”

“No,” Rey replied. “Han’s dead. He… Ben killed him.”

That put a damper on the mood.

“...so, where is Master Luke?” Rey asked, after a few seconds. “Who are you? What are you doing here? I’ve been following his messages for more than a day!”

“Well…” Lusa began. “We’re… trainees?”

“The old word was padawans,” the Bothan supplied. “Master Luke decided that… uh… he said that he remembered what Master Yoda said, and that the only thing that mattered was the spirit. That you had to learn to avoid the Darkness, and that everything else you could learn at your own pace, however fast or slow that was.”

“And all the teachers left about two hours ago in their X-Wings,” the human contributed. “So we’re the ones defending the Academy!”

“I am going to need some time to process this,” Rey said. “...wait, in X-Wings?”

“We had a fleet,” Poe said. “Now we’re down to one ship, and you’ve told us nothing!”

He waved his hands, for emphasis. “Tell us that we have a plan! That there is hope!”

Admiral Holdo stared back.

“There is a plan,” she said. “But I don’t have to tell you what-”

“Admiral!” someone interrupted. “Hyperspace signatures! It looks like… they’re snub fighters, twelve of them!”

Holdo’s shoulders slumped.

“And there it is,” she declared, as the tension left, and she sat back into her seat. “Turn the ship! Prepare for close engagement!”

The radio crackled.

“All wings report in,” came a voice, Luke Skywalker’s voice, and it was so unexpected that Poe staggered back a pace.

“Katarn standing by,” one of the fighters reported.

“Horn, standing by,” another voice added.

The reports came, one by one. Jade, Dracos, Solusar, Durron, Ikrit, Binks, Desann, Korr, Penin. Then they broke for an attack run, and Poe could only stare.

He knew he was a good pilot. One of the best.

But even he had to admit that he couldn’t outdo that squadron.

[apostaterevolutionary]

I am so sorry, apparently it’s 2024 and I’m arguing about dragon age again lmao. How did I get here! Why is this happening!! Time is a flat circle!!!

Anyway. People can feel how they want about the past games not mattering in this game. If you’re cool with it, I’m happy for you. But there’s one particular argument in defence of this choice that is really, really bothering me and I have to rant

The thing I keep seeing is “well all this other stuff has nothing to do with the main plot or Rook, so it should be cut” and that’s. Not a good way to tell stories in my opinion. Because here’s the thing: it’s not about the Big Overall Plot. It’s about the characters that live in this world, big and small

I’m going to use the example of Varric and Hawke cause I think it��s the easiest to explain quickly. Varric is a storyteller. That’s the defining trait of his character. He tells stories, and sometimes they’re true and sometimes they’re not and sometimes it’s something in between. In DA2 he tells you about his brother. In inquisition, he talks about hawke and there’s banter about several of the companions. Most of these are just little one liners that don’t “serve the overall plot” but they serve Varric’s character

And that matters

So if we take this character known for telling stories about people that have been in his life, well, he largely can’t do that now. How can he talk about Hawke, someone who can be a very close friend of his, without even their gender being a choice you can select? Or whether Varric should be saying ‘is’ or ‘was’ about them? How can he talk about the companions in DA2 or inquisition when a lot of them don’t have to be recruited or can die? Will he limit himself to only characters that are guaranteed to be a part of it and alive? Or is it that he and Rook will have such a shallow relationship that Varric, of all characters, never talks about his life and past exploits?

Or has Varric as a character changed so much that he doesn’t even want to tell stories anymore? That Hawke living or dying means nothing to him? That the friendships he built with people in 2 games mean nothing to him? That he’s become literally unrecognizable?

This is where the problem is. Sure, Rook maybe doesn’t care about these people they’ve never met. But do they care about Varric? What about if a companion mentions an old friend of theirs, talks about an experience they had that made them who they are - is that only okay if that experience isn’t from a previous game? Or are all the characters so flat that we never learn anything about their connections to others outside of Rook? Is this story SO focused on this player character and this plot that NOTHING else matters, even within the world, and there’s no depth to be found in any of the characters that feature in it?

Writing characters so that they only ever talk about things that “directly serve the plot” is how you get flat, unremarkable, boring, forgettable characters. And that’s not something I would have accused bioware of doing even if some instalments are stronger in this area than others. But it sounds like that’s what they’re doing here, at least with the past characters. Cause sure, maybe Morrigan is so closed off she’ll never mention her son and partner. That’s believable, even if iffy given that they’ve said she’s going to be more involved than we think. But Varric? VARRIC??? Never mentioning ANY of the people he used to spend time with and care about except Solas and maybe some of the inquisition characters that can’t die or not be recruited but also carefully skirting around what happened to them in the game? That’s literally not the same character

And I would expand this to like. A letter mentioning this or a codex mentioning that, or ambient dialogue about so and so - that makes the world feel deep and those random, unimportant NPCs feel richer by connecting them to the larger world. It’s not about “serving the plot”, it’s about making your world and characters deep enough that they feel real, lived in, and like something we can actually care about

[shy-writer-999]

Hi I saw your post about Law’s happy trail!! I was wondering if you would write something based off of that? Like if the reader really likes it they would always tell Law how hot it is during sex then he would get shy and not believe them and it would end up messing up his performance🤭🤭

oh my wordddd please. yes i will write something about this of course… that man has been on my mind an ungodly amount. i just word vomited this onto the page, apologies if it's messy!

Law's happy trail 🥴

Law was fucking you in missionary when he realized you were staring at it. His happy trail. You couldn’t help it.

The black hair crept from its thick ring around the base of his cock, travelling up his lower abdomen, where it thinned out and disappeared at his belly button. There was something so masculine about the wiry strands playing up his body, manly whisps that accented and emphasized how toned and sleek he was. His happy trail rolled and grinded into you along with his hips and cock—it was mesmerizing.

You always thought it was hot. I mean, he’s just hot in general so of course it was hot. But in that moment some fascination struck you. You were laser focused on it.

“Fuck, Law,” you panted his name between moans. “Your happy trail is so fucking hot.”

It took a moment for him to register what you said. He froze. “What?”

“I said your happy trail is fucking hot.”

Your eyes flashed up from his abdomen to his eyes. Law was bright red, poised over you. He didn’t know what to say back—were you making fun of him? What did you mean?

Law resumed rocking his hips into you and your eyes went back to watching his happy trail, abs, and cock grind into you. Sweet sounds kept falling from your lips and Law fucked you a moment more, but then he froze again.

He pulled out and collapsed on the bed next to you, looking up at the ceiling. He was blushing so hard you thought he’d explode.

“Are you okay, Law? What happened?”

“Your comment about my… happy trail.”

“What about it? It’s hot, Law.”

More blood rushed to his cheeks. “Are you sure?”

“What? Of course I’m sure. You’re gorgeous, Law. I was just admiring the view.”

He turned to you. His eyes looked distraught, he was crimson, and his brows were bent at the middle.

“I just got a bit insecure.” Law averted his eyes again.

“Babbbyyyy, please believe me.” You got on top of him and peppered his face with kisses. “I’m not lying to you. You’re just so sexy I can’t take my eyes off you.” When you smiled sweetly like this, his heart melted.

He groaned. “Alright sweetheart, I believe you. C’mere.” Law brought his hands up to cup your cheeks and kissed you tenderly. He rutted his erection up, sliding it through your wet and inflamed folds.

You smiled and snuck a hand down, passing over Law’s happy trail with your hand and then grasping his shaft. You stroked him for a second and he let a whine out in your mouth as you exchanged sloppy kisses.

“I need you, sweetheart.” He groaned again and you positioned his cock at your entrance, slowly sliding down on him with a whine. You braced your palms on his abdomen and rode him until he came inside you.

When you cuddled after sex, you passed your hand over his happy trail a couple more times and he blushed every time. “It tickles a little bit,” he said gruffly. “But if you like it, I like it.”

---

(*ﾉ∀`*)

guys i think you are all witnessing my thigh fetish in real life. idk where i got this shit. im sorry to subject you to it. but its here. this ^^ happy trail writing falls under the umbrella of the thigh thing, in my mind. that’s what we’re going to call it. the thigh thing. i literally wanna bite and chomp on the happy trail like a rabid dog

[kandlewick]

In the Queendom of Roses, where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist, it is quite a misfortune to be born the eldest of three. Everyone knows you are the one who will fail first, and worst, if the three of you set out to seek your fortunes. gn reader x rook, a howl's moving castle au pt. 2 1

It was quite funny, really. One would think having the great wizard Rook Hunt, hunter and eater of hearts, grace your hat shop would leave more of a splash than it had but nothing had changed much. Not on the outside at least. Inwardly, you were still quite flustered over the meeting and there would be the occasion you would find yourself mindlessly sewing this to that only to find out your thread had slipped from your fingers. 

Your special guest only gave you a quick glance before a well manicured hand reached out, a thin trail of magic leaving his fingertips. The thread you had dropped whisked its way back into the air and around your needle and with a quick flick of his finger, it looped itself back into the eye and pulled itself through. 

“It’s not like you to get so distracted,” your blonde guest gave you a look from underneath his lashes, his lilac eyes meeting your own tired ones, “must I find a new milliner?”

You flustered and felt yourself shrinking under his gaze, nearly dropping both the needle and thread. “My apologies, Mr. Schoenheit. I won’t get distracted again.”

The man’s once stern expression melted into a soft smile before turning away, “Good, because there’s not anyone in the Queendom of Roses with half of your skill.” He rested his cheek on his knuckles and looked out your window from his seat next to your own, his own specially crafted tea having been poured into one of your nicer teacups. You paid no notice to his compliment, much too distracted by the nervous shaking of your hands and instead got back to work, eyes entirely focused on the project. Vil noticed your lack of response with a raised brow and sighed before bringing his teacup to his lips to take a sip. You always were a fickle artist. 

“Why you still come to my shop, I’ll never know.” You laughed bitterly, ”I’m sure there are plenty of other hatters who would jump at the chance of working for you.” It was true after all. While working for an esteemed actor like Vil was a blessing, he was not a normal client. You couldn’t afford the latest fashions as you were locally sourced and while your techniques were admittedly unique and fashionable, surely he could have found a better and fancier place to get his head wear. You weren’t anything special after all. You couldn’t even use magic to do something as simple as threading a needle. Your competitors definitely offered so much more.

“You know, there’s nothing I detest more than undeserved humility.” He spoke over his cup before taking another slow sip. “When one is a master of their craft, the artist should take pride in their work.”

“Yes, Mr. Schoenheit, it’s why I think there are much more fitting locations for someone as talented as you… not that I don’t appreciate your commissions just… ”

Vil very nearly rolled his eyes in exasperation at your inability to accept a compliment but was quick to catch himself. With a soft click of porcelain, he sat his drink down and tutted at you like a disappointed teacher. “Do you really believe I would keep coming to your shop out of pity?” His glare was nearly frosty as you shrunk back in your seat, the hat you were crafting laying long forgotten on your work desk. His tall frame nearly shadowed your own as his icy lilac eyes kept yours in place. You could hardly think under his gaze, let alone move even as your body screamed at you to run. If he truly was upset with your work, you wish he would just leave!

“I’m sorry if I offended you!” You squeaked out, your eyes quickly shutting from your nerves. You had barely managed to find your voice before the man in front of you leaned forward, his hand darting out faster than your body could act, and swiftly taking your chin in between his thumb and forefinger. You let out a squeak of surprise before you could catch yourself. His stare was firm, eyebrows pulled down darkening his beautiful face. You could feel your eyes wandering against your will, darting to stare at his lips, so pretty and perfect, before quickly looking back up. With burning ears, you tried to pull back from his touch but he was firm with his grip, only pulling you tighter. 

“What will it take for my words to finally reach you?” He wondered aloud, tilting your head this way and that. You followed him like a rag doll. Vil never gave off the vibe that he was incredibly strong but the firm grip he had you under was enough to make you want to reconsider and while his touch kept you under his thumb, it never felt painful. Uncomfortable, sure. Having one of the biggest stars in the Queendom of Roses grace your shop was always an uncomfortable experience, it was hardly ever bad. 

You were so wrapped up in your own thoughts that you could barely catch the soft sigh leaving Vil’s lips, “— and so oblivious too.”

You blinked awake as soon as Vil let you go, the only proof he had ever been so close was the soft throbbing on your chin, “Vil…”

He abruptly got up and reached over to your side of the table and picked up your forgotten cup, the tea bag still seeping. “Let me get you another.” Vil’s voice was light as he walked back into your kitchenette, making himself comfortable. You sat back in your chair and stared at the wall, her palms sweaty. What was that about? You rubbed your chin absentmindedly while you waited. 

“Here,” Vil slid you a fresh cup. You thanked him quietly with a bob of your head and quickly raised it to your lips. It smelled different then what you had poured. More… flowery? You peeked over the rim of your cup to spy his expression only to see Vil was watching as you drank. Noticing your gaze, he smiled. “I added a little something to it — magic — to help you.”

“Oh,” You breathed into your cup, “Thank you.” another sip. The flavor was slowly growing on you. It didn’t take long for you to drink the entire cup even with Vil watching you like a hawk to make sure you finished it. 

“I should get going,” Vil glanced down at his watch. It was something fancy and sleek, a pretty little thing that you couldn’t even afford with a year’s worth of savings. “As much as I enjoy bothering one of my favorite artists, I must go.” 

“Of course!” You immediately picked yourself up and ran to the coat rack nestled close to the entrance with Vil close behind. Nodding his head in thanks, you reached back and helped him slide it on, quietly admiring how well it was tailored to him. He really looked quite dashing in it. Well, he looked dashing in anything, probably even a paper bag, but there was just something about this article of clothing.

“It’s a lovely thing, isn't it?” You get close and admire the seams at his sleeves, idly brushing your fingers against the stitching. Vil, deciding to humor your seamstress side, tilted his hand over for you to get a better look. “It fits you perfectly. You really look very dashing in it. They say a suit makes the man but I think it’s the other way around, you make it look even more beautiful.”

Vil stared down at you with widened eyes before very nearly preening. In fact, the suit did feel more fitted, like a lovely — hm? What an off sensation. Something DID feel strange about the suit…

Ah, so it’s like that, hmm?

“Take care, Mr. Schoenheit!” You waved him off as he departed and you closed the door behind you. Back to your quiet little shop, in your quiet little corner, with your quiet little hats. You sat back down, your knees and lower back immediately aching in a new and strange way. You let out a hiss as you scrambled in your chair, trying to find a comfortable position but nothing seemed to help and the more you tried, the more your body seemed to be fighting back. Everything felt like it was taking up so much more energy than it use to before and as much as you tried to ignore it, nothing seemed to be working. In a fit of anger, you threw your unfinished project to the side and stomped your way back up the stairs. The floors creaked with every thump, thump, thump of your worn out boots and you shed your clothes with every step, throwing your top and bottoms behind you in your eagerness to just have the day end with your rested snugly in bed and under the covers.

With a cheer, you slipped your night clothes on (with much protest from your body! What gives! Why did it feel like you got run over by a carriage?) and dove into bed. Your body still ached but at least now you weren’t doing anything. You sniffed. Hopefully you weren’t getting sick. Vil would be so mad at you if you got him ill. He was an actor and actors couldn't afford to get sick, after all.

[specialagentlokitty]

11th doctor x reader - the things of Halloween

Hi hope you're doing good. Could I request an 11th Doctor x reader with this prompt from your Halloween prompt list "Where’s its head?" "You can’t just ask the headless horseman where his head is!"? - Anon💜

15: “Where’s its head?” “You can’t just ask the headless horseman where his head his!”

The doctor knew of your love for Halloween and everything spooky. He had watched you buy and set up loads of Halloween decorations, make sure you had enough sweets, you had even made him watch horror films with you.

He didn’t exactly like the horror films but he liked that it was a good excuse for him to cuddle up next to you and spend some time with you just laying at your side.

He watch you carve pumpkins and even attempted to carve a few on his own, and he tried a corn maze with you, as well as a haunted house.

You adored Halloween and everything that came with it, so he brought you to a place where Halloween was real.

All the stories.

The myths.

The legends.

The creatures.

They were all real here, and to see the amazement in your eyes as you slowly walked around was all he ever hoped for.

There was vampires and ghosts, werewolves and ghouls, moving pumpkins and zombies and mummies all around.

“Woah…” you whispered.

A few of the Halloween creatures gave you a curious look, to them you were strange, a pure human with no supernatural abilities.

“They’re fascinated by you…” the doctor whispered.

You flick your gaze back to the doctor who stands near you a little protectively knowing these beings could be a little unpredictable.

“They’ve never seen a human.”

“Really?”

The doctor nods his head, looping your arm with his as you both begin to walk again.

“Yup! There did used to be humans on this planet, but as these beings grew in numbers humans vanished. They believe earth is where they left for.”

You nod your head along as the doctor speaks, still scanning all the creatures in amazement, smiling at the small children who stop to stare at you as if you were make believe.

As you continued to look around your gazed focused on one specific creature.

The one everybody had the same question for, so without thinking as it slowly passed you spoke.

“Where’s its head?”

The doctor clamped his hand over your mouth looking panicked.

“You can’t just ask the headless horseman where his head his!”

The doctor quickly looked up at the headless horseman with a sheepish expression.

“I’m sorry! We mean no disrespect!”

The headless horseman seemed to pause, if it had its head you could be sure it was definitely looking at you.

Its shoulders bowed slightly before it rode away.

The doctor looked at you with a little grin and you gave one back.

“He wants us to follow him.”

The doctor dragged you after him as you both followed the black horse.

“Where are we going?”

“To help him find his head!” The doctor cheered