#so there could always be something I’m missing

[gobeyondthesky]

I almost trip in shock.

The prince? Here? With a cake?

I must have lost my mind… maybe smelled one too many Dusklilies and I’m hallucinating. The image of a prince in his pristine outfit, complete with his little hat, standing in the middle of my living room/room/kitchen, with a dirt floor and an old Merlin’s Magical Goods tarp for a ceiling, was one I never thought I’d see.

Some remaining sane part of me screams “Say something!”, but shock is a funny thing. I’m stiff like late King Corvious’ statue and my mouth as dry as the Hasar Desert.

“Uh— is she dumb?” His Majesty asks.

That brings me back.

“Of course not!” I yelp. Quickly remembering I could lose my head for being rude, I add begrudgingly, “Erm, Your Majesty”.

I can’t remember when was the last time Prince Ellias left the palace. Rumor has it he’s been preparing for his ascension to the throne day and night, working to master his talents — mysterious powers no one knows about. I’ve always thought he’s just a stuck up bitch baby that won’t get his pretty little silk slippers dirty.

Sure, he is beautiful. Gray-blue eyes, sculpted face, silky black hair falling on his face gracefully… but nice? The stories seem to tell otherwise, and I’m confirming that live.

“You don’t seem like a flower girl at all”, the baby says, a sneer on his face. He looks me up and down, pointedly stopping at my empty hands.

The bastard. Like I wanted to do this. Stealing flowers and selling them is easier than stealing and selling anything else. Hells, there’s a house in Puckard Street owned by a blind lady that has a huge garden with all sorts of plants and it’s not like she will notice them missing.

The prince looks back at his advisor, confusion mixed with disdain. The advisor shrugs back, hands trembling a little over some papers.

“She’s the only flower lady in the realm that’s in her 20s and has a birthday today, Your Majesty,” the advisor tries to whisper, nervousness lacing his voice.

To me he says, mustering courage, “the Prince wishes to celebrate your birthday, as a sign of thanks for your service to the realm”.

I don’t buy it. So I stare at him point blank.

The Prince sighs, clearly debating something with himself, his body hunched as if in defeat.

The part of me that cares not for her head blurts out, “What.”

And suddenly, he’s on me.

His lips are trying to find mine and my two brain cells can’t decide between stabbing him with my hidden knife or kissing him and seeing where this is going, hopefully leading to some money. I’m tired of living in this alley makeshift house my mother left me in.

I decide to push him. Instinct I guess.

“You— what the hells is going on?!” I scream pushing with all my strength and the two loafs of bread I’ve had to eat today.

He stumbles back, his advisor catching him. His eyes lock with mine as he says “I will not continue to live with this curse, stop making this harder on yourself”.

The fuck?

Why can’t I have nice things? I mean, it’s my birthday for god’s sake! Where do these people get these ideas from? How can I, a mere flower girl that hasn’t two pennies to rub together, break a curse?

“What in the Hells are you saying?!” I stare back and hard. I will not stand for this.

“It’s your birthday is it not? The prophecy states I must share a love kiss with a ‘girl touched by flowers on the date of her 25th year or the darkness will persist’” he exclaims as if I had to have knowledge of this, because of course, who wouldn’t.

I can only stare in disbelief.

That damned mother of mine. She truly was a witch. And she truly meant it when she said she’d give me “the realm and the world to lead”. I thought she was on something. Balckcapped mushrooms perhaps.

And I, naturally, break out laughing.

The cake is a nice touch, but this is a game I can play too.

“Oh, Prince, I would most definitely kiss you, but this will cost you”, I purr.

The advisor bites his lip and closes his eyes, as the prince squints his eyes and shakes his head. I can hear him mutter to himself, “flower girl alright”.

I smile and mentally start to prepare for the rest of my life.

You are a poor girl selling flowers. Today is your birthday but no one knows. When you return home you find the prince of the kingdom waiting for you with a birthday cake. "Are you sure this is the one?" He whispers to his advisor.

[keferon]

“We’ll see Earth again.” Swerve says it not because he knows for certain, but because he has to believe it.

———————————————

“You don’t have to, you know…”. Jazz gestures vaguely at Swerve’s holoform as he takes a seat next to Jazz on the edge of the bar.

“I know. But it just feels natural, sometimes.” Swerve doesn’t know how to explain it. That he knows his holoform better than his own frame some days. And if he just walked around like this on the ship, he’d get stares. But with Jazz….

“I know what you mean.” Jazz laughs. “Piloting my mech always felt natural. And then I ended up living out of it for a while after my trip through space. Spent so long inside that wiring and metal and electrical signals felt more like me than flesh and blood. Once Prowl found out…took me a while to remember how to be human outside my mech. I still miss it sometimes.”

Jazz is gazes off at a projection against the far wall. Swerve looks closer and recognizes it as a star map of the galaxies. And he wonders if Jazz is just talking about mechs anymore.

“Hard to believe Earth is just one of those tiny dots,” Jazz says softly. “It’s hard to believe any of it still sometimes. That I’m actually out here, on an actual spaceship, with aliens that aren’t just trying to kill us all. With Prowl. With you. I mean, what are the chances?”

What are the chances indeed, Swerve thinks. That of all the ships he just happened to end up on the same one as Jazz and Prowl. But he’s glad in a way. Because otherwise — otherwise he might never have realized that his dreams, his fantasies were anything more than that.

“I’m actually glad, in a way,” Jazz says, echoing Swerve’s own thoughts. “Glad to know we’re not alone in this. Glad to get to know you — the whole you. Glad to have met Prowl. But — I miss Earth, miss home.”

“I miss Earth too,” Swerve says. “A lot. Sometimes…sometimes when I think about the life I lived there it feels more alive, more like I was living then anything I can remember before my accident.”

Swerve had friends, had a job, had hobbies. Had people, including Jazz, — people who were a part of his life and whose lives he was a part of. People who would notice his absence, who would miss his presence. (People who did notice him go missing. Swerve’s seen the status next to his own name in mecha logs. Him and Jazz.)

“We’ll see Earth again.” Swerve says it not because he knows for certain, but because he has to believe it. He needs to see it. Needs to get back.

Because he knows what he’s not telling Jazz. That things back on Earth are not nearly as good as they are here. That things are falling apart. But he has to believe that it’s not too late. That they can still help, if only they can get there. If only they can do something.

“You think so?” Jazz looks directly at Swerve, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“I do,” Swerve says. “Because while you were doing whatever pilot training it is that they have you do to go into space, you know what we were doing? There was a whole team of us behind you — mechanics and engineers — training to support the mission. What to do if things went right. What to do if they went wrong. How to make sure we brought you home. We looked everywhere for you.”

Computations of oxygen supplies, food, water, potential mech damage. All to try and determine the likely survival windows in space. The long days and longer nights and dwindling hopes as the search had stretched on. The memory gives Swerve pause for the briefest moment. But none of their computations could ever have accounted for all the complexities of reality.

“And I found you,” Swerve says, brightening slightly.

“We found Earth.” He points vaguely at the projection. “That’s already two thirds of the way there!”

Swerve grins broadly.

“I can’t tell you how good it is to have a friend like you here.” Jazz throws an arm over Swerves shoulder as he says it. “Next stop, Earth.”

HELP the fact that they both miss Earth despite Jazz being a human and Swerve being an alien is kind of poetic and I’m SO here for it

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> smut, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> yunho ( centric ) x reader warning(s) -> smut, mdni. 18+ words -> 2.4k

abstract -> collateral damage is inevitable for lifetime karma...

y/n’s perspective

Mingi fit in perfectly… but he missed his lifelong friend.

He admits he does and often has his mind wander with a sad look of reminiscence when reminded of Yunho… but he acknowledged that he wouldn’t change anything as long as he was here again.

“You’re doing quite well with the book right?” Chenle asked, taking me away from my thoughts while I nodded. 

“I'm halfway done, but I’m thinking of adding one more character to the main six,” I said. They nodded as Jising read my outline and Chenle skimmed through it.

“I still can’t believe how many hybrids you have now,” Chenle said and I smiled softly.

“But at the same time it makes sense,” Jisung said and we laughed. “To think you have Eunchae to thank for that,” Chenle said and he was right.

She pushed me into going to an adoption center where I met San and that was history. 

“I say we’re gonna have to start putting a cap on how many hybrids you have” Chenle released and I laughed. “Hmm… eight?” Jisung suggested and I rolled my eyes. 

“y/n, he’s all good to go!” I heard as I saw Kun and Mingi. 

“The sweet life changed him a lot you know,” Chenle said and I was confused and so was Mingi. “He looks way happier and healthier than when he came. Besides, he looks good in designer” Chenle and Jisung teased. 

“Her hybrids have a better life than me and Haechan,” Jisung said and I sighed. I turned to Mingi who seemed to be happy by their comments. His tail wagging behind him as he grinned at me. 

“Ready to go?” I asked and he nodded as we left the pair outside of the kennel. “You seem happy after your session,” I said and he nodded. “The doctor said I've improved so much I might be finishing my sessions soon!” he grinned and did the same. 

“We should celebrate!” I said and he looped his arm with mine as we walked to the cafe. I always took him too. As we made it there we waited for a bit to get seated like normal but noticed Mingi tensed up. “Mingi!” I heard as I saw two little kids run up to us. He seemed scared…

“What did I tell you two about running off!” I heard and I sighed… she-devil. “Oh, you… I see you actually adopted the mutt” she said and I rolled my eyes. I noticed behind her carrying leftovers, coats, and her purse was Yunho. 

He seemed wide-eyed seeing Mingi again… I even saw a soft smile appear on his face. 

“You’re quite the hybrid collector, aren't you… runts darling aren’t valuable to anyone though” she said and I scoffed. “Am I supposed to take advice from you?” I asked and she glared. 

“You’re such an immature brat” she muttered and I smirked. “I guess… hey how’s bankr–” “Shut up!” she yelled and left with Yunho sighing and bowing to me before leaving. 

“Are you okay?” I asked and Mingi nodded sadly… “What’s wrong?” I asked and he sighed. “It's strange… seeing Yunho on the opposite side of things. I bet she treats him with the bare minimum unlike how she treated me but… I also never thought I was worthy of being treated better” he confessed and I smiled and held his hand. 

“You're with me now,” I said and he smiled and nodded. “Yeah… thank you,” he said and I chuckled. “You never have to thank me for that. And Mingi? This is the bare minimum… not what she does” I said and he nodded. 

“It’s fine… I was thinking we could order something different today?”

mingi’s perspective

Seeing Yunho confused me… it was a mix of emotions. 

I finally accepted that y/n wanted me. Me of all hybrids. Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Yeosang, Wooyoung, and even San wanted me there. Not Yunho… not him. Never have they ever asked about him either. 

Never have I had something that was solely mine away from Yunho and I was happy. 

I missed him… I did. But when I think about how much I missed him, I realize I would have to share this with him. Share them with him. Share her with him. 

It made me feel sick otherwise. 

Sure she has five other hybrids. I shared her with them… more like they shared her with me. But… the thought of Yunho stepping in would destroy me… even makes me feel bitter feelings towards him. 

“You’ve been stuck staring at the ceiling since you came back… do I need to tell y/n you’re acting up again?” Hongjoong asked and I shook my head. “I’m fine…” I said and he huffed as if he didn’t believe me. 

“I am… honest. We saw Yunho at the cafe we go to after my sessions, I just have mixed feelings” I said and he looked at me as if he was analyzing me. “You’ve talked less about Mingi recently… you’ve been here for two months and I haven’t heard you talk about Yunho since… probably a few weeks ago,” he said and I nodded. 

“He’s my best friend… there will never be anything to doubt that but, im content with the life I have now without him” 

y/n’s perspective

For some reason… She requested that our hybrids not be present at all, which worried me. I felt like she was planning something and I didn’t know what.

It was also strange cause Hongjoong was the one who always came with me and now to be alone was worrisome. “You’re here early” I heard as I saw Jaehyun. “Want this over with,” I said and he chuckled.

“I get what you mean, sorry by the way about no hybrids today,” he said and I shook my head. It’s not his fault…

I was just anxious about what she had planned. 

She was an unprofessional woman!

I was currently sitting on a bench trying to cool down and not cry over her comments. She had her kids run around and even spilled water on me several times… not even just once and the girl kept on grabbing my bag plus even put spilled juice on it so now it was sticky. 

The boy also tried to put gum in my hair… I wasn’t having a good day... 

“I’m sorry!” I heard as I saw… Yunho? “I remember you! You’re the hybrid who stole from people! You stole five hundred dollars from me!” a man yelled at the hybrid. Why was he… out and without a collar? 

Yunho couldn’t do anything but let the man scold him. I sighed and took out five bills and tapped the man’s shoulder. “Huh? Who are you?” he asked and I saw Yunho look at me shocked… “Just take it and stop yelling” I said and he seemed embarrassed but took the money and ran away. 

“You didn’t have to do that… I deserved it” he said and I sighed. “Come on Yunho,” I said and he looked confused… but besides that still followed me. We walked in silence until we made it to the hybrid center.

“y/n! What brings… why are you wet?” Haechan asked and I sighed.

“Long story… is Kun or Doyoung busy?” I asked and he shook his head before leading me to Kun’s office while Yunho followed me closely. 

“What are you doing here? And why are you a mess?” he asked and Yunho came inside with me. “Yunho?” he said, confused. “He was on the street alone, with no collar,” I said and he nodded while telling me he’ll be a minute. “Why are you helping me?” he asked and I gave him a soft smile.

“Cause you don’t seem like a bad hybrid… and you’re also important to Mingi,” I said and he nodded. “Is he here then? Last time I saw him, he said you were only fostering him for a week” he said and he looked desperate to see his friend. 

“I actually ended up adopting him,” I said and he grinned. He seemed happy at the sudden news.

“Is he okay then? Happier?” he said and I saw how his tail wagged at the thought of his friend being happy. I smiled and nodded. “He fits in well with everyone,” I said and I saw how his eyes lit up. 

“I’m glad…” he smiled to himself. 

“I’m sorry by the way what she did… she was getting the twins ready to misbehave today and I'm assuming they did,” he said and I sighed. “You can say that,” I said and he looked apologetic. “But it shouldn’t be you apologizing, you did nothing wrong,g” I said and he shook his head. 

“I did… I robbed you and I caused you trouble, so much trouble, and I–" "Yunho, I forgive you. Mingi explained it… you did it cause you needed to. I understand” I say and he sighs. 

“Yunho?!” I heard as I saw the she-devil herself. “How dare you! I’ll sue for stealing my hybrid!” she yelled and I sighed. Was this her plan? “Yunho, can you explain why you were alone in the street?” Kun asked and he looked at me nervously. Was he also in on this? 

“She left me alone in the middle of Seoul… she told me to find y/n and make sure I went with her but I didn’t want to, I promise! She was gonna lie and try to make this a civil affair, I'm sorry!” he apologized and she scoffed. “He’s lying… he must’ve learned that from the filthy wolf hybrid,” she said and I scoffed. 

“I’m sorry, miss but this is going to become a hybrid mistreatment case”

 I finally made it home where I was greeted by Wooyoung’s excited yell welcoming me back. He was rambling as he led me to the kitchen saying they already ate since it was late but how he was gonna prepare a plate for me. 

“Why are you… sticky?” I heard as I saw Yeosang as he touched the stain on my coat. “Little kids will be kids especially if their parents are as immature as them,” I said and he sighed, seeming to know what I meant. 

“Where’s Mingi?” I asked and he hummed. “Why… did something happen?” he asked, looking right through me and I sighed. “I found Yunho in the middle of the street being berated as the thief and… apparently she planned to sue me for stealing her hybrid but he confessed to her tricks,” I said and he looked surprised. 

“She’d go that far? What happened to the giant dog anyway?” he asked and I sighed… “Hybrid Mistreatment Case is now open… I doubt he’ll be under her care anymore but he’ll officially be up for adoption” I said and he nodded. 

“And you want to talk about it with Mingi,” he said and I nodded. “I just… I don't know. He seems to have mixed feelings about him especially when seeing him around with me” I muttered and he nodded. 

“He did say he always had to share things with Yunho… never felt superior to him so it makes sense” he muttered. “Still… I know he misses him. I want him to at least talk to his old friend” I said and he stared. 

“They're bonded aren’t they?” he asked and I nodded. 

“Wooyoung bonded himself to me while San and him are also bonded. The tigers to each other as well… separating a bonded pair can be damaging to the hybrid’s mental health” he explained. “If… you were to one day decide you didn’t want us or… me I’d feel lost too. Like nothing will be the same again” he confessed. 

“Are you bonded to me?” I asked and he smiled. “You’re my mate, angel. Of course, I'm bound to you… even though I could function… other hybrids of yours wouldn’t. Senghwa and I are probably the only ones…” he said and I knew what he meant. 

Like how Wooyoung’s depressive episodes can get and how San lost some of his memories due to the trauma… Hongjoong though as of recently put his life purpose to protect me.

“Don’t dwell on it too much” he said and I nodded. 

“Oh! I wanted to make sure that you didn’t want to go anywhere? I can still make reservations for you–" "And while I appreciate the offer, no thanks… I would rather not leave if I can avoid it and besides with Wooyoung cooking meat for Mingi these last two months I'd rather just order a bunch of fried chicken and eat it here with some cake” he said and I smiled. 

“Ok… but if you change your mind–” he smiled softly and shook his head while I talked “–the offer stands I'll make it work I promise!” I said and he chuckled. “Thank you, angel”

I can’t believe it sometimes…

It's been a fast year with San and Wooyoung but Yeosang as well… next month will mark a year. 

yunho’s perspective

Everything I did… was to make Mingi happy. It made his life a little easier but I think in the end I always did the opposite. I’m the reason he was so down… so bad with his own self-esteem. The reason he thinks he doesn’t deserve the world. 

And yet… I still hope that she changes that. Even if he hates me now.

Every time I’ve seen her with him… he’d look at me with a look of uncertainty… envy, or simply just annoyance…

I deserved what fate brought upon me. In a cage… with nothing else in here but my thoughts. They said I'd surely get adopted again… but it would never be the same. Mingi wouldn’t be with me.

“Yunho, in an hour you’ll be in touch with a social worker in charge of hybrid cases and a lawyer so we need to get you ready” I heard and I nodded. They were now putting on a collar and any procedures they needed for me to talk about her verbal abuse and neglect…

Everything… since I was a kid. And everything that I witnessed Mingi goes through… every punishment he had and the punishment I took in his place to lessen his pain. 

Every physical altercation… any humiliating thing she made us perform. 

Everything I… had to go through in this miserable lifetime… was just me paying for the collateral.

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

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[honeyncherry]

secret of us II - joe burrow

summary joe’s world is unraveling, and without you, he’s learning that holding on is harder than he ever imagined; but losing you isn’t an option

content angst, swearing, slowburn

part one

I can’t keep wondering where I stand in your world.

The house was too quiet, emptier than ever.

Joe sat in the dim light of his living room, the muted TV casting flickering shadows on the walls. He was supposed to be studying old game footage, but the glow of the screen barely registered. It couldn’t drown out the echo of your voice.

It replayed in his mind, over and over, like a record stuck on a loop, refusing to fade.

I can’t keep wondering where I stand in your world.

The line haunted him, cutting deeper with every repetition. You weren’t wrong. You deserved more. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier to fix, didn’t tell him how to bridge the growing distance he’d let spiral between you.

He drug a hand through his hair, his eyes drifting to his phone on the coffee table. Your name was still pinned at the top of his messages, sitting alongside his mom’s. The sight made something sharp twist in his gut. He reached for it instinctively, but his fingers froze just above the screen.

It wasn’t the first time tonight. He’d done this before; reached, hesitated, then pulled back, like the phone might scald him. Each time, his mind raced with half-formed messages, things he couldn’t bring himself to say.

I’m sorry? It felt hollow.

I miss you? Too selfish.

I love you? Too late.

​​With a sigh, he picked up the phone anyway, his thumb hovering over your name. For a moment, he considered unpinning the conversation, as if removing it from the top of his screen might lessen the weight in his chest. But his thumb faltered, trembling, before he dropped the phone back onto the table with a muted thud.

He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let go. But he couldn’t reach out, either.

The silence in the room pressed heavier against him, suffocating. The faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen buzzed in his ears, and the occasional rumble of passing cars outside only reminded him how still everything inside felt. His thoughts raced, looping back to memories he wished he could escape.

Your laugh came first, bright and unguarded, the kind of sound that could lift even his heaviest days. He could picture it clearly: the way you’d throw your head back slightly, your eyes crinkling at the corners as your whole body gave into the moment. He remembered how it felt to make you laugh, the warmth that bloomed in him, the way it silenced every doubt.

Then there was the way you always noticed him. Not Joe Burrow, star NFL quarterback. Just Joe. You’d catch the tension in his shoulders after a bad game, the quiet in his voice when something wasn’t right. “You’re off today,” you’d say, your tone gentle but firm, like you wouldn’t let him brush it off. You always saw through him, and he’d let you, because it felt safe.

But he’d squandered that now. Pushed you away so thoroughly that even those memories felt like shards of glass pressing into his skin.

And still, your voice echoed in his mind, broken and tired: I can’t keep wondering where I stand in your world.

Do I even mean something to him?

The silence was unbearable.

You sat cross-legged on your bed, your phone resting beside you like a taunt. The weight of Joe’s absence clung to you, heavy and unrelenting. You told yourself you shouldn’t care this much, that you’d done the right thing by walking away. But the questions still clawed at the edges of your mind.

Do I even mean something to him?

The thought alone sent a pang through your chest. You tried to rationalize it, to tell yourself that he’d been distant because of something unrelated to you.

But the late-night doubts crept in, twisting the truth into something darker.

What if he never cared? The question whispered through your thoughts, insidious and relentless. What if I’ve been holding onto something that was never there?

Your phone buzzed once, a notification breaking the stillness. Your heart leapt, but the moment you saw it wasn’t from him, disappointment settled like a stone in your stomach. You shoved the phone away, letting it slide across the bed.

Glancing toward the mirror across the room, you caught your reflection in the dim light. For a moment, you stared, searching your own eyes for answers you couldn’t find.

What was it about him that made you hold on, even when he gave you every reason to let go?

The fear crept in, sharp and undeniable. What if I’ve invested in someone who doesn’t see me the way I see him?

The thought curled around you, smothering. You blinked hard, shaking your head as if the motion could dislodge it.

But it lingered, a truth you didn’t want to face.

So, when a friend invited you to a housewarming party, you said yes without hesitation. The idea of noise, of motion, of anything other than this unbearable quiet felt like a lifeline.

You didn’t overthink it. You didn’t let yourself. It was something to do, something to occupy your mind, something to drown out the ache that wouldn’t leave.

The house was already buzzing when you arrived, laughter and music spilling out onto the lawn. Strings of lights twinkled in the trees, their soft glow casting a warm haze over the scene.

The energy was electric, alive, a stark contrast to the silent chaos you’d been drowning in at home.

You wove through clusters of people, their voices and laughter blending into a steady hum. The scent of grilled food and spilled beer hung in the air, grounding you in the present. It was easier to focus on the movement, the sound, the colors around you.

Eventually, familiar faces came into view, Mia and Drew, the couple hosting the party. Drew’s arm was slung casually over Mia’s shoulder as they chatted with another guest, their ease a reminder of everything you used to feel when things in your life weren’t so complicated.

“Hey, you made it!” Mia beamed when she spotted you, breaking away from the conversation to pull you into a warm hug.

“Of course,” you said, forcing a smile that you hoped looked genuine. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Drink?” Drew offered, holding up a freshly cracked beer. His signature grin was just as lopsided and teasing as you remembered. “Or are you still pretending to be a wine connoisseur?”

You snorted, grateful for the distraction. “Still pretending, but I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

He handed you the beer with a laugh. “Classic.”

Mia nudged him playfully before turning back to you, her expression softening. “Seriously, though, thanks for coming. It means a lot. I wasn’t sure if you’d be up for it.”

You hesitated, shrugging as you shifted the bottle between your hands. “Figured it was better than staying home.”

“Well, we’re glad you’re here,” Mia said, squeezing your arm lightly. “And I think you’ll be glad, too. Lots of familiar faces tonight.”

“Joe’s here,” Drew said casually, tipping his beer toward the living room.

Your stomach dropped. The name hit you like a sharp gust of wind, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your grip on the bottle tightened instinctively, the flood of questions almost immediate: Did you want to see him? Could you even handle it?

The questions collided with the sinking realization that you’d somehow forgotten — how had you forgotten?

Joe was the one who’d introduced you to Mia and Drew all those years ago.

Mia’s sharp jab to Drew’s ribs made him wince, her expression darkening as she shot him a glare that could have melted steel.

She turned back to you, her eyes softening as they scanned your face, noting the way your shoulders had tensed.

“I’m so sorry,” Mia blurted, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t even think to mention it. There are so many people here, I figured you two wouldn’t even cross paths. If you want to leave, I completely understand.”

Her voice carried a mix of panic and guilt, as though she wasn’t sure which would hurt you more, staying or going. You fought to keep your expression neutral, swallowing down the dread twisting in your stomach.

“Don’t worry,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt, though the tightness in your chest betrayed you. “It’s fine. Really.”

The words tasted harsh, like a lie, but you forced them out anyway. You ignored the tightening in your grip on the drink Drew had handed you, the way the cool glass pressed against your palm like it might anchor you.

“I’ll just… stay out of his way,” you added, the shrug you offered feeling as hollow as the calm you were trying to project.

Mia searched your face, her uncertainty plain. Her lips pressed together like she wanted to argue, but she relented, nodding slowly. “Okay. Just let me know if you need anything, alright?”

You nodded back, clutching the drink as the hum of the party blurred into white noise.

Your breath came shallow and uneven as you fought the instinct to glance behind them, in the direction Drew had pointed.

You told yourself you wouldn’t look, wouldn’t let yourself go there. 

But then, as if fate itself had a cruel sense of humor, your eyes caught his across the room.

Joe.

He stood near the edge of the living room, mid-conversation, but his focus had shifted.

His gaze locked on yours, and for a fleeting moment, something unguarded flickered in his expression, surprise, maybe even guilt, before it vanished, quickly replaced by that maddeningly unreadable mask he always wore so well.

An invisible force seemed to squeeze the air from your lungs, your breath hitching before you could stop it. And God, he looked good. Too good.

It wasn’t just the sharp cut of his jaw or the way his fitted shirt clung to his shoulders like it had been made for him. It was the ease in his posture, the quiet confidence in the way he stood, unaware of how effortlessly he drew attention.

The shadow of stubble along his jaw that you used to tease him about, all of it stirred something in you, something you wished would stay buried.

Your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck. It wasn’t fair, how he could still look like that. How he could stand there, completely oblivious to the effect he had on you, even now.

It wasn’t fair that, despite everything, some small, traitorous part of you still wanted to cross the room and close the space between you.

For a moment, the world around you blurred. The noise, the people, it all dissolved. Just you and him, caught in the weight of everything unsaid.

But it was you who blinked first, tearing your gaze away. The hollow pain grew heavier, and you took a long sip of your drink, desperate for something to distract you from the rising heat in your cheeks.

Beside you, Mia glanced between the two of you, her brows drawing together in concern. Her hand brushed your arm lightly. “Hey,” she said softly, her tone careful, deliberate. “Come with me. I’ve been dying to show off the kitchen.”

You hesitated, trying to steady your breath. “I’m fine,” you started, the lie weak even to your own ears.

But Mia didn’t wait for your protest. Her grip tightened gently, steering you toward the hallway. “Just trust me,” she murmured, her voice warm but insistent. “You’ll love it.”

You followed her, grateful for the escape, even if your mind still felt heavy. The bursts of laughter grew louder as she led you into the open kitchen.

Mia’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts as she gestured toward the expansive marble countertops. “Can you believe this? Drew’s been talking about this kitchen for months. The island alone is bigger than my first apartment.”

You nodded absently, trying to focus on her words, but the lingering tension in you made it hard to hear anything beyond the pounding of your own heart.

“And look at this,” Mia continued, pulling you toward the double ovens. Her tone was a touch too enthusiastic, like she was trying to fill the silence between you. “They’re state-of-the-art. Apparently, you can control them with your phone. Like, who even needs that?”

You managed a small laugh, the sound hollow but enough to make her smile in relief. She pointed out every detail: the sleek cabinets, the farmhouse sink, the oversized wine fridge. Her voice was light, easy, but you could see the subtle glances she cast in your direction, checking on you without saying it aloud.

But then she froze mid-sentence, her fingers curling around the edge of the countertop. Her eyes widened slightly, darting toward something, or someone, over your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

A wave of dread washed over you, the knot in your stomach tightening before you even turned around. You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Hi,” Joe said.

The single word was quiet, but it hit like a thunderclap. Slowly, you turned, your grip tightening on the beer bottle as you faced him.

He stood just a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets, his expression carefully guarded. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The hum of the party dulled to white noise, the edges of the room blurring until it felt like it was only the two of you.

“Hey,” you said finally, your voice clipped but trembling with the hurt you couldn’t hide.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Yeah, well,” you replied, folding your arms across you like a shield. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

His shoulders stiffened, and for the faintest second, something flickered in his eyes — regret, maybe. Or guilt. He dragged a hand through his hair, the motion as familiar as it was frustrating. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

The words hung heavy between you, the air thick with everything unsaid. His gaze dropped to the floor, his voice softer now. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Funny,” you bit out, your voice shaking despite your best effort. “Because from where I’m standing, that’s exactly what you did.”

“I was scared,” he admitted, his voice cracking as the words escaped. “Scared of ruining everything. Of losing you.”

Your breath hitched, a knot twisting painfully in your chest. Heat surged behind your eyes, anger and sorrow colliding like waves in a storm.

“Well, congratulations,” you said, the words trembling as they left your lips. “You managed to do it anyway.”

The words struck him like a blow. For a moment, he just stood there, shoulders sagging under the weight of your anger and his own guilt.

You turned to leave, but before you could take more than a step, Joe’s hand closed around your arm, not harsh, but enough to stop you in your tracks.

“Wait,” he said, his voice sharper now, tinged with frustration.

You froze, slowly turning back to him. His face was taut, his jaw clenched, and his eyes — those stupid, stupid eyes, were filled with something you couldn’t quite name. Guilt? Embarrassment? Anger? Maybe all three.

“Let me explain,” he muttered, his grip loosening but not releasing. “Just… Can you stop and listen for once?”

A bitter laugh escaped you, sharp and cutting. “Stop and listen?” you repeated, your voice low, laced with disbelief. “That’s rich coming from you, Joe.”

His face reddened slightly, and for a moment, you saw something like shame cross his features before it was replaced with exasperation. “I’m trying, okay?” he snapped. “Can you just give me a second?”

“A second?!” You wrenched your arm free, your voice low but razor-sharp. “Joe, I gave you months. I gave you every second I had trying to be the friend you clearly didn’t want. And this—” you gestured between you, the tension spilling over. “This is what I get in return?”

His frustration bubbled over. “Fine. Maybe I messed up,” he muttered, his voice tight. “But can you just stop acting like—”

“Like what?” you interrupted, stepping closer, your voice a low hiss. “Like I don’t have a right to be upset? Like you don’t deserve every ounce of guilt you feel?”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his chest heaving, but you didn’t give him a chance to respond.

“You’re not half the man you think you are, Joe,” you whispered coldly. “And I’m done waiting for you to prove otherwise.”

You turned on your heel, setting the drink down and walking away without looking back. You heard him curse under his breath, low and frustrated, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not anymore.

When you left, the party carried on around Joe, but he barely noticed.

The laughter grated against his ears, hollow and distant, like static in a bad signal. The drink in his hand had long since gone flat, and each sip tasted like ash.

He lingered near the edge of the room, his gaze skimming the crowd half-heartedly, but his mind was miles away.

He’d never seen you that angry before. Never been the target of your wrath. Your voice, usually warm and steady, had cracked with an edge so sharp it cut through him like a blade.

It wasn’t just the anger in your eyes that haunted him. It was the hurt, raw and undeniable, that twisted the knife deeper.

He kept replaying the moment in his head, over and over. The way you’d stood there, unflinching, hurling the truth at him like stones.

Each one had hit its mark. Sharp. Deserved. Impossible to ignore.

And for the first time ever, Joe had no defense. No excuse. No shield to hide behind.

It wasn’t like he didn’t already know how much he’d screwed up, he’d been carrying that guilt for weeks. But hearing it from you, seeing it etched into every line of your face, watching your shoulders sag under the weight of his mistakes, it was unbearable.

And yet, even as you’d turned and walked away, he hadn’t moved. He’d stood there frozen, paralyzed by the very thing he wanted so desperately to fix.

By the time he got back home, the silence in his house was deafening. He dropped his keys on the counter, the metallic clang echoing in the empty space. Collapsing onto the edge of the couch, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring blankly at the phone in his hands.

His thumb hovered over the screen, his breath shallow as he opened your contact. For what felt like the hundredth time, he started typing, rehearsing the words he’d been cycling through his mind all night.

Joe: Can we talk? Please.

His finger hesitated above the send button, doubt twisting in his gut.

What if you didn’t respond? Or worse, what if you did, and it was already too late? The thought clenched around him like a vice.

Before he could stop himself, he pressed send, his heart lurching as the message flew out into the void.

Seconds stretched into agonizing hours in his mind as he waited, the silence amplifying every fear. When his phone buzzed in his hand, his heart jumped, his pulse racing as he read your reply.

You: When?

The single word sent a wave of cautious hope through him, sharp and overwhelming. Without hesitation, he typed back, his fingers moving faster than his thoughts.

Joe: Tonight. Please. I’ll come to you.

As soon as he hit send, his breath hitched. He stared at the screen, nerves twisting into knots as he braced himself for your reply.

When it finally came, two simple letters that carried the weight of the world, his grip on the phone tightened.

You: Ok.

Joe exhaled sharply, the tension in his chest loosening just enough to let him breathe. It wasn’t much, but it was everything.

Fragile. Fleeting. A chance to make things right, and he couldn’t screw it up.

He pushed off the couch, pacing around his living room, his mind racing.

What could he say to fix this?

How could he even begin to mend the cracks he’d caused in something so precious?

Every possible scenario played out in his head, each one ending the same way — your hurt eyes staring back at him, colder than he’d ever thought possible.

Stopping mid-step, he dragged a hand over his face, frustration clawing through him.

He hated himself for every misstep, for every silence that pushed you further away. Now, he wasn’t sure words could ever be enough. But he had to try. He owed you that much.

The drive to your apartment had been a blur of glowing streetlights and the persistent drumbeat of his own heartbeat. The radio drummed through the air, but it was nothing more than static to his ears, drowned out by the endless thoughts in his head.

When he pulled up outside your building, he stayed in the car for a moment, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles ached.

From where he sat, he could see the faint glow of your window, and the sight made his hands sweat

With a deep breath, he grabbed his phone and typed a message, his fingers trembling with a mix of nerves and desperation.

Joe: I’m here.

The three dots appeared almost instantly, his breath catching as he waited. When your reply came, his heart skipped a beat.

You: Door’s unlocked.

The burden in him grew heavier with every step toward your door, and when he stepped inside, the air felt thick, charged with the tension of everything left unsaid.

The scent of your apartment hit him first. Warm, familiar, and grounding in a way that only twisted the knot in his stomach tighter.

His eyes found you immediately. You were sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the dark TV screen, your posture rigid and guarded.

The soft glow from the lamp next to you highlighted your face, but it didn’t hide the exhaustion in your eyes or the way your lips pressed into a thin line.

You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. But your expression said more than words ever could.

It was an unspoken challenge, a demand for answers he wasn’t sure he could give.

Joe swallowed hard, every carefully rehearsed words evaporating in the silence. His voice caught before he finally spoke, “Thanks… for letting me come.”

The words felt insignificant, but they were all he could manage.

Your head snapped over to him, jaw tightened, your eyes narrowing just enough for him to see the storm brewing behind them. “You said you wanted to talk,” you said finally, your tone sharp and clipped. “So talk.”

Joe’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t move. The tension in the room was suffocating, and every ounce of hurt in your voice twisted something deep inside him. He took a hesitant step forward, his voice trembling slightly when he spoke. 

“I should’ve handled this better,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I shouldn’t have ignored you. You didn’t deserve that.”

The words stumbled out, weighed down by the guilt pressing deep into him. “I got in my own head, and I let it get the better of me. I thought… I thought that keeping my distance would make it easier, but all I did was hurt you. And I hate myself for it.”

You blinked, your jaw tightening as the meaning behind his words settled over you, heavy and unclear. Keeping his distance? Easier for who? Why?

The questions swirled silently in your mind, but, before you could think better of it, you stood abruptly, the motion sharp and filled with tension, your arms folding tightly across your chest.

“You were scared,” you referred back to earlier, bitterness creeping into your tone. “And what about me, Joe? Do you think this was easy for me? Do you think walking away didn’t hurt like hell?”

He flinched, your words hitting him like a slap. He had no rebuttal, no defense.

Because you were right.

He’d been selfish, so consumed by his own fear that he hadn’t stopped to think about what it was costing you.

“I know I don’t deserve another chance,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But I need you to know that I care about you. More than anything. And I’m sorry I didn’t show you that when it mattered.”

The tremor in his voice made you pause. Your arms dropped slightly, and you exhaled a shaky breath. “Joe,” you started, softer this time, but the hurt in your eyes was still there, unmoving. “I just… I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I don’t know if I can keep waiting for you to figure out what you want.”

“I know,” he said quickly, the words rushing out like a plea. “I know I screwed up. But please—” He stepped closer, his voice breaking. “Please let me fix this. Let me prove to you that I can be better.”

You didn’t respond right away, and the silence was deafening. But when you finally met his gaze, he saw the war in your eyes, the part of you that wanted to protect yourself battling with the part that still wanted to believe him.

For the first time, he realized just how much he’d put at risk. If he lost you now, he knew he wouldn’t recover.

Your lips parted, and he braced himself, every muscle in his body taut as if preparing for a blow. “This… this is your last chance. Don’t waste it.”

The weight of your words hit him like a tsunami. Brutal. Final. But in the wreckage, there was a sliver of hope, fragile and flickering, and he clung to it with everything he had left.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice steady in a way that felt almost foreign after weeks of chaos. “I won’t waste it.”

You nodded, but the gesture was stark, emotionless. There was no smile, no warmth. Only quiet resolve, sharp-edged and cutting. “You better not,” you said softly, the faintest quiver in your tone betraying the exhaustion beneath your anger. “Because I don’t think I can do this again.”

You turned sharply, your movement punctuating your words like a final period. But just as you began to step away, his voice broke through the tension, low and deliberate. “Me either, sweetheart.”

The word stopped you cold.

Your breath hitched, the sound catching in your throat like a snare. Sweetheart. He’d never called you that before, and hearing it now felt like a quiet declaration, unspoken but heavy with meaning.

It was unfamiliar on his lips, but it wrapped around you like a hesitant embrace; soft, tentative, undeniable.

Slowly, you drew in a deep, measured breath, letting the weight of his words settle in your brain, rippling outward in waves you couldn’t yet name.

When you finally exhaled, it was as though a fraction of the tension released with it. Quietly, you moved back to the couch, sinking into the corner as if it might anchor you.

The tension in the room lingered, a silent witness to everything left unsaid, but it no longer suffocated you.

Behind you, his footsteps were soft, hesitating for the briefest moment before coming closer. When he sat beside you, the space between you felt impossibly vast, a canyon carved by weeks of silence and hurt.

You risked a glance at him, your heart thrumming in your chest. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor, his fingers clasped tightly as if bracing for a blow.

But his presence was steady, quiet, grounding in a way that sent a flicker of warmth through the cold ache in your chest.

You hated how much you’d missed it. Hated how some small, fragile part of you still leaned into that warmth, despite everything.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, something unfamiliar flickered in your chest. It wasn’t relief, not yet.

But it was softer than anger. Warmer than indifference.

A fragile ember that stirred in the quiet, daring you to believe that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end.

[serapharua]

HYBRID enhypen reaction to smelling someone else's scent on you . . !

enhypen OT7 — GENRE : imagines headcanon suggestiveish fluff hybrid au — PAIRING : gn.reader — WARNING : they are pretty possessive — REQUESTED : yes <3

HEESEUNG (deer hybrid) :

Heeseung had always been sensitive to scents—his heightened senses often caught the faintest whiff of things others might miss. But today, something felt… off. He was sitting next to you, his gaze flicking between your face and the surrounding room, when the subtle, unfamiliar scent hit him. It wasn’t overpowering, but it was enough for his ears to twitch in subtle annoyance.

You hadn’t noticed at first, but Heeseung had already leaned in, his sharp nose brushing against your neck as he inhaled deeply. The scent was foreign, not yours.

His gaze flicked up to meet yours, the warmth in his eyes replaced by something else—a flicker of jealousy he couldn’t hide. His voice, usually calm and composed, was edged with tension. “Who was that?”

You blinked, taken aback by the question. “What do you mean?”

Heeseung’s eyes narrowed as his hand gently cupped your chin, guiding your face toward him so he could get a better whiff. “That scent… it’s not yours.”

A slight panic rose in your chest, but you tried to keep your composure. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But Heeseung wasn’t convinced. His hand lingered on your chin, the grip soft but firm, as if grounding you in place. “I can smell it. I can smell them on you. Who’ve you been around?” His voice was calm, but the undertone was possessive.

His deer-like ears twitched again, and his eyes softened as he exhaled through his nose. “You’re mine.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement, one that left no room for doubt. His tail flicked behind him in a quiet, almost frustrated motion. “No one else gets to leave their scent on you.”

You could feel the change in his demeanor—he wasn’t mad, but there was a clear shift in his protective instincts. He was jealous, and it wasn’t something he often displayed so openly. Heeseung pulled you closer, his face burying into your neck in an attempt to cleanse the lingering foreign scent, marking you with his own.

“I’m the only one who gets to be close to you,” he murmured, his tone softening as he held you tighter, content once he felt the familiar scent of his own mixing with yours.

JAY (hawk hybrid) :

Jay’s sharp eyes immediately caught the subtle shift in your scent. It was faint, but unmistakable. His gaze flicked to your neck as he leaned closer, his nose instinctively twitching. It wasn’t your usual scent. The realization hit him hard.

He raised an eyebrow, his voice lower than usual. “Who was that?”

You froze, sensing the tension in his tone. “What do you mean?” you asked, trying to brush it off, but there was no hiding the unease in your voice.

Jay moved closer, his presence more intense now. “I know it’s not yours.” He gently cupped your chin, tilting your head slightly so he could get a better whiff. His eyes were sharp, his expression unreadable, but you could see the possessive glint in his gaze.

His grip on your chin tightened slightly, pulling you closer. “I can smell it on you.” His voice had a deeper edge now, calm but with a clear possessiveness that made your stomach flip.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, though it was obvious from the way Jay was acting that you hadn’t convinced him.

He sighed, frustration creeping into his voice. “Next time, don’t let anyone get that close.” His tone was firm, almost protective, and it wasn’t up for debate.

Jay’s fingers gently brushed against your skin as he lingered, unwilling to pull away just yet. “You’re mine,” he murmured, as if reaffirming the truth. There was no doubt in his voice, no room for questioning. He wanted you to know, and he wasn’t going to let anyone else come too close again.

JAKE (wolf hybrid) :

Jake didn’t even have to try hard to notice the change. As soon as you walked into the room, the scent hit him—your friends’ scent lingering faintly on your clothes, your hair, your skin. His ears twitched, and his gaze immediately zeroed in on you.

His lips curled up slightly in an amused, almost mischievous smirk, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more possessive. “So, you’ve been with them, huh?” he teased, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. His tone was playful but there was an unmistakable undertone of challenge.

You glanced at him, trying to act casual. “What? It’s just my friends. We hung out for a bit.”

Jake pushed off the doorframe, slowly making his way toward you, his footsteps deliberate and quiet like a predator closing in. As he got closer, you could feel the heat of his presence, and his scent—woodsy and grounded—surrounding you.

He stopped just in front of you, his nose trailing along your neck as he took a deep breath. The familiar, comforting smell of your friends was still there, and Jake’s eyes darkened for a moment, his gaze sharpening.

“You smell like them,” he muttered, voice low. There wasn’t anger, but there was a certain level of possessiveness in the way he said it. “Don’t let them get too close next time, alright?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Jake was quicker. With a playful, yet slightly assertive push, he pulled you into a tight hug. “I’m the only one who’s supposed to mark you, not them.” His words were teasing, but there was an edge of sincerity in his grip.

You could feel his body relax just a little as his scent began to mingle with yours. His nose brushed against your ear, and for a moment, he was quiet, taking in your scent and the remnants of your friends’ presence.

With a soft growl of satisfaction, he pulled back and gave you a lazy smile. “That’s better.” He ran a hand through your hair, making sure the lingering scent of anyone else was buried under his. “Just remember, you’re mine, okay?”

The possessive spark in his eyes had faded to a contented glow, and you knew that, for Jake, it wasn’t about controlling you—it was about making sure that no one else could lay claim to what was his.

SUNGHOON (snow leopard hybrid) :

Sunghoon noticed it immediately. As you stepped into the room, his sharp eyes caught the subtle change in the air—the faint scent of someone else, something unfamiliar and not his. His feline instincts kicked in almost instantly, his body tensing with an alertness that wasn’t typical for him.

You, unaware of the shift in his demeanor, walked casually to the couch. But Sunghoon was already moving, his eyes narrowing slightly as he followed you, his every step silent, precise, like a predator tracking its prey.

When you sat down, he slid into the spot next to you, his hand brushing against yours, though his touch was a little more deliberate than usual. His nose twitched as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the side of your neck as he inhaled. “You smell different,” he murmured, his voice unusually low, like a soft growl that vibrated in his chest.

You blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer immediately, instead reaching out to brush his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle but lingering. “You’ve been with someone,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of irritation, though it was still calm. “I can smell it. Who was it?”

The possessiveness in his tone wasn’t lost on you, but his expression was controlled, cool—Sunghoon’s way of masking his more primal instincts. His feline nature, though, didn’t allow him to fully hide the subtle signs of jealousy in the way his tail flicked behind him.

“I was with some friends earlier,” you explained, trying to stay lighthearted.

Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed slightly, his hand now resting on your waist, a little firmer than usual. “Next time,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, “don’t let them get too close.”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure whether he was joking, but the serious glint in his eyes told you otherwise. His possessiveness wasn’t about controlling you—it was about protecting what was his. He wasn’t going to let anyone else leave their mark on you.

He leaned in again, this time pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent more deeply. He was quiet for a few moments, before pulling back and offering you a small, contented smile.

“Better,” he murmured, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. There was something almost comforting in the way he relaxed against you, as if he’d claimed his territory once more, his pride satisfied.

SUNOO (fox hybrid) :

Sunoo’s nose twitched as soon as you walked into the room, the familiar scent of your perfume mixing with something else—something he didn’t recognize. He didn’t even need to look at you to know something was off. His senses were heightened, and that sharp, fox-like awareness picked up the subtle shift in the air.

As you made your way over to him, he could feel the tension building in his chest. The scent wasn’t overwhelmingly strong, but it was enough to make his instincts flare. A flash of annoyance flickered in his eyes, but he quickly masked it with his usual cheerful demeanor.

“Hey,” he greeted you, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was trying to act normal, but the mix of jealousy and curiosity was hard to shake.

You took a seat next to him, oblivious to the effect your scent was having on him. He leaned in just a little too close, his nose subtly brushing against your neck as he inhaled deeply. The gentle scent of your friends lingered on your skin, a trace of their presence still clinging to you.

Sunoo pulled back just slightly, looking you over with a teasing grin. “Someone’s been having fun without me, huh?” His voice had that playful edge, but there was a slight sharpness underneath, as if he was trying to keep his more possessive feelings in check.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to stay casual. “It’s nothing. Just hanging out with some friends earlier.”

He raised an eyebrow too, clearly not convinced. “Hmm… I think I like the smell of you better when it’s just mine.” There was a flicker of mischief in his eyes, but the underlying possessiveness was clear. He didn’t like someone else’s scent lingering on you—not when you were his.

Before you could respond, Sunoo leaned forward, his nose brushing against the side of your neck again, inhaling deeply as if trying to erase the trace of others. “Much better,” he murmured, his voice soft and content, as though he was satisfied with reclaiming his mark.

His arm subtly draped around your shoulders, pulling you a bit closer as if to keep you safely within his reach. His playful, teasing smile returned, but you could still see the possessiveness behind it. “Next time, maybe you should save all your attention for me, yeah?”

He didn’t give you much of a chance to respond before he was already nuzzling against you, his tail giving a slight flick as he settled beside you with a contented sigh. You could almost feel the soft warmth of his satisfaction, the fox in him at ease once more.

JUNGWON (panther hybrid) :

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed as he watched you enter the room, his sharp senses immediately picking up on something he didn’t quite like. The air around you seemed different, and it wasn’t just the faint trace of perfume you usually wore. There was something more—another scent mingling with yours. A familiar scent, but not his.

He didn’t let it show, though. He kept his cool, walking up to you with his usual calm composure. But there was an unmistakable tension in the way he moved, his instincts telling him that something was off. He wasn’t the type to openly show jealousy, but his heightened senses could not be ignored.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low but gentle, trying to act casual as he closed the space between the two of you. He reached up to adjust the collar of your jacket, his fingers brushing against your neck as he leaned in slightly, taking a deeper sniff. His expression faltered just for a second. There it was again—the lingering scent of someone else.

His eyes briefly flickered with a mix of annoyance and curiosity, and it didn’t go unnoticed by you. “You’ve been around someone else, haven’t you?” Jungwon asked, his tone cool but sharp, as though he already knew the answer.

You smiled, trying to play it off. “I was just with some friends earlier. Nothing serious.”

But Jungwon wasn’t convinced. His panther instincts were too sharp to let such a thing go unnoticed. His eyes followed the trace of the scent, lingering on you with a possessive intensity that he usually kept hidden.

He didn’t wait for a response before he took a step closer, his presence almost suffocating in its intensity. He placed a hand lightly on your arm, his fingers trailing up to your shoulder as if marking his territory. “I don’t like the smell of them on you,” he murmured, the words almost a growl. His voice was quieter now, almost too calm, but you could sense the undercurrent of possessiveness.

Jungwon’s nose hovered near your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he took another deep breath. His panther-like instincts were raging beneath the surface, the need to mark you, to reclaim that scent, urging him forward.

“I think it’s time to remind you who’s yours,” he murmured with a smirk, his lips brushing against the side of your neck as his hand shifted to pull you closer. His gaze was intense, eyes locking onto yours with a possessiveness that made it clear he wasn’t about to let anyone else get too close to you. Not when he could sense your connection, feel your scent marking you as his.

His tail swayed lightly behind him, flicking with a hint of agitation as he continued to lean into you, his body pressing slightly against yours. The jealousy he felt wasn’t loud or obvious, but it was there—sharp and focused, the panther in him protective and possessive.

“You’re mine,” he repeated softly, more to himself than to you, his voice low and firm, as if he needed the reassurance.

NIKI (tiger hybrid) :

Niki’s sharp senses immediately caught the unfamiliar scent the moment you walked into the room. His tiger-like instincts flared, and the deep, intense aroma wasn’t one he recognized as yours. It was something else—someone else. His heart rate increased, and despite trying to appear nonchalant, his focus remained on the lingering scent that clung to you.

He took a step toward you, his eyes narrowing in concentration, studying the way you moved, trying to ignore the faint growl building deep in his chest. Niki was usually the type to remain calm, but his tiger instincts were stronger than ever in moments like this.

“Did you… just spend time with someone else?” he asked, his tone more controlled than he felt. The question was casual, but his body language was anything but. His posture was more rigid, his chest slightly puffed out, an almost territorial energy radiating from him.

You glanced at him, a hint of confusion in your eyes as you answered. “Oh, I was just with some friends earlier. Nothing to worry about.”

But Niki wasn’t convinced. He could feel the tension in his muscles as his gaze followed you, his senses still sharp on the unfamiliar scent. His tiger instincts were telling him that something wasn’t right, even if his mind tried to reason otherwise. He took another step closer, his eyes locking onto yours as he gently placed his hand on your arm.

“You sure about that?” Niki’s voice was smooth but carried an underlying edge of possessiveness. His grip on your arm tightened just slightly, as if marking his territory. “I can smell someone else on you…”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your neck as he breathed in deeply, his nose brushing lightly against your skin. A low, almost primal growl rumbled deep in his chest at the scent of someone else lingering on you. It wasn’t just a casual trace. It felt… intimate.

His tiger instincts kicked into overdrive, and his hand slid to your waist, pulling you just a little closer. His muscles were tense, his tiger-like aura pressing in on you as he whispered, “I don’t like the way they’ve left their scent on you.”

Niki’s intense gaze locked onto yours, a flicker of possessiveness in his eyes as he moved to stand in front of you. “You belong to me,” he murmured, his voice low and firm, but there was an undeniable trace of hunger beneath the words.

His tail flicked behind him, agitated and restless, a telltale sign of his inner turmoil. His instincts wanted to protect you, to claim you in a way that left no question about who you were with. He wasn’t one to show weakness, but with you, that protective side was hard to control.

“I’m not sharing,” he added, his hand resting possessively on your shoulder, gently but firmly guiding you toward him as he held you close. He wasn’t letting go anytime soon—not until he felt like the lingering traces of another’s presence faded completely.

Word count : 2916 | serapharua, 2025.

[ditzydoe444]

MDNI 18+

brat⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ⌗ .ᐟ

jason todd smut

size difference! jason x bratty! reader

jason was known for his size. his tall, imposing frame and muscular build made it obvious. the difference in size between the two of you was hard to miss, and jason definitely used that to his advantage.

you had acted out earlier, whining because he was always out on patrol and never spent enough time with you. though jason never tolerated your bratty behaviour, he immediately shut you up, throwing you onto the couch before he had his own way with you.

“you better shut that pretty little mouth of yours sweetheart, or i’ll do it myself,” he grumbled, immediately removing his pants and belt. obviously, you didn’t listen, you never did. there was something about getting on his nerves that turned you own. god you were soaked.

you shook your head, “you don’t know how neglected i feel when you are gone in the middle of the night jay,” you grumbled with a pout. it was a half lie, jason would always come back early in the morning, preparing your breakfast and cuddling with you. he shook his head before he roughly tugged off your tiny poor excuse of shorts. “i always come back early when i can, make the stupid little coffee that gives you a toothache and cuddle before i even sleep. and you are complaining about that sweetheart? god, you really are a brat.”

“i’m not a brat, i just have basic needs,” you protested with a pout. you loved getting on his nerves, and god if you got good sex out of it, what’s there to complain?

jason knew you never really meant the comments you said, purposely trying to get a rise out of him so he could take it out on you instead. “you really like playing this game sweet thing huh? making me all mad so i can fuck you like a fleshlight?” he grumbled as he saw how soaked you were. small tiny damp spots on your panties. he let out a low chuckle, “all this for me? you must be feeling generous.”

you weren’t in the mood for dirty talk. you were in the mood to have his fat cock shoved up your cunt, and clearly he was having fun toying with you. “you are all bark no bite,” you retorted, wanting a slap on your clit from his fat cock. “fucking you is one thing, letting you come is another. so play your cards right.” he narrowed his eyes.

it wasn’t long before he was balls deep, fucking you like a toy made for his release. the grip he had on your waist was tight, so tight you were sure it was going to leave marks. he always treated you like a rag doll during sex, his larger and stronger frame allowed him to use you as he pleased. “such a cute little thing,” he cooed in between thrusts, your sharp tongue was held back by how hard his thrusts were, drilling deep into your cunt. the only words you could even say were unintelligible moans and whines. “ya know sweet thing, if you were this silent and obedient, it’ll make my whole life a lot more easier.”

but where was the fun in that?

he rubbed your clit, making you whine and kick your feet. “c-close” you moaned though it was muffled by your hand, you were so loud. “i know you are sweet thing, you are making a mess on his couch.” he squeezed your lower stomach, “you feel me there? i’m so deep in you.” god of course you felt him, he was huge.

“such a cute thing, your tight cunt struggling to take my cock,” he teased, his thrusts were getting harder and harder. the couch basically moved to the other side of the room. “think you can hold out for a little more longer?” no. god no.

“l-let me come,” you whined. you were so close, and you weren’t going to let him take that away from you. “well you better of watched your mouth before you started being a brat,” he said simply, not breaking a sweat. “please jay,” his hand that was rubbing your clit went back to your waist, forcing you to take every inch of him. as a way to get off, you slid one of your hand to your clit, rubbing it, but he quickly swatted it away. “if you want to make yourself come, do it. but i won’t be fucking a desperate brat who can’t come on my dick.”

“p-please jay,” you whined. tears were rolling down your cheeks and saliva dribbled down the edges of your mouth. “promise you won’t be a little whiny brat?” you nodded, so desperate for a release.

not long jason has you pinned down in a mating press, his fat cock bullying your tight cunt. you were pretty damn sure you needed to replace your couch after this.

[suguru-getos]

Genshin Impact Men on New Years:

Characters Included: Kinich, Ororon, Capitano <3

-> oh whooo is she? 👀 yes yes it’s me. I just wanna write on the new genshin babies and i’m so looking forward to it after finishing the Natlan archon quest. Genre: Fluff

-> Kinich:

Normally, the saurian hunter wasn’t someone you’d ever see as your boyfriend. But surprisingly so, Kinish rose up the ranks in your heart. Even Ajaw is… less mean to you. You know that because whenever you visit the Scions of the canopy, you’re greeted fairly by Ajaw & it shocks the others. It’s been a few months since you & Kinich have been together. Today, on the New years eve, he doesn’t want to miss the golden chance of spending more time with you.

Be prepared with a table full of delicious feast, prepared by him & his friends. He takes you out in a special spot where the stars are a little more visible & where you can hear how his heart soars when he sees you. “I wanted to tell you something.” He hums, watching your face glisten under the moonlight sun. “Kinich, it’s almost New Years, you sure we should’ve left everyone else and come here?” You chuckle, eyes beaming in joy. He loves you so much. He is always the sensible one, why then, when its you, that his heart loses. Unfair.

“I wanted to share our New Years kiss in peace.” He hums, pulling you close by the waist, wrapping his hands around your body & brushing his lips with yours. The feeling sends jolts and tingles down your spine. The sound of his heart racing quickly masked with the cheers of people in a distance. “Oh— would you look at that. I kissed you for an entire year.” He winked. Dork. :3 you love him so bad <3

-> Ororon:

Honestly, you never knew that someone as emo-looking as Ororon would ever become your boyfriend. You were new in Natlan & Citlali was one of the few people you were friendly to, Ororon calling her, Grand ma was hilarious. Until you knew why. Eventually, you noticed he brings his fresh produce for everyone who he’s fond of. Until, one of these days it was you. A stock of cabbages, freshly grown by Ororon, a beaming grin on his face as he hums, “Y/N, I have brought something for you.” He smiles. You often wonder why you’re so drawn to his child-like, almost innocent smile & the way he just wants to please you all the time. “You know that’s way too many cabbages for a single person, right?” You chuckle, snorting as he pouts cutely. “Well, yeah, but I just wanted to dedicate this produce to my crush & eventually, hopefully, er- my future girlfriend.”

Oh smooth. He did make you feel a tingle in your heart & he did make you feel like you were seen and heard after a long while. After Natlan was saved by the Archon, you & Ororon decided to take a trip to your homeland, to Sumeru. You settled in Puspa cafe with him, countdowning for the New Years together. “I am glad you decided to come to Sumeru with me.” You purred as he kisses your forehead. “I am glad that you brought me with you.” You chuckled, holding his hand and count downing together.

“Three, two…” and when the clock changed, you kissed Ororon, and he smiled. He has been wanting to say this to you but waited for this exact same moment. “I love you, Y/N.” He hums, catching you by surprise. “What?” Before you could smile and reply, he leaned in and kissed your neck briefly. “I really love you.” He smiled, kissing your forehead. You chuckled, how cute- “I love you too, Ororon.”

-> Capitano:

The embrace of Capitano, big & warm despite the pain & grief he continuously carried. “I missed you, my love.” He brushes against your hair, kissing below your neck. He loved cuddles with you, loved the way your body nudged against him. His body, being the perfect big plushie for you to hug. “I missed you too.” You purred, when you first saw this man, he was the Fatui Harbinger that made Everyone cower. He was famous for being as strong as Archons themselves. For a man of that stature to bring you a bouquet of roses everyday after work as long as you’re in Snezhnaya? Unreal.

“I have formulated some new years plans, my love.” He suggests, taking you by a pleasant surprise. “Hmm, what? You are always couped up by work, and I am often not in Snezhnaya; when else would we spend time?” He croons, the big, dangerous & sexy man famous in all of the Nations in Tevyat is planning a date. Hehe, how adorable, you think.

“What is the date plan?” You turn to straddle his lap instead, nuzzling against his chest. He smells different, smells like rugged leather & rum. You can’t quite put a finger on it, but you love it.

And he does make extravagant date plans, but your New Year’s Eve together is a little different. Capitano decided to cook for you. He made all the Snezhnayan dishes, some very own of his, belonging to Khan’ria. You were delighted that he can be so domesticated and so kind. Enjoying a fulfilling dinner on his lap, hearing stories that you’re sure makes his heart bloom… it’s enchantingly relaxing.

And when the clock strucks into the next year, you can’t help but be happily indulged in the process of falling in love with him, all over again. Dancing with him & kissing him lovingly. Tenderly.

[2amriize]

.ᐟ RIIZE scenario : drunk calling ex!riize ༉‧₊˚.

req: hello sorry for another rq but what about ex!riize and you're drunk call him.. can i be 🪐 anon too pls

note: sure! thank you for your request ♥

pairing: ex!riize x reader— masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

“y/n? Why are you calling me?”

“I just… I saw this otter plushie on my way home, and it reminded me so much of you.”

After dinner with your friends, you drank a bit too much, and seeing that plushie made you think of your ex, Shotaro. You couldn’t help but call him, missing him deeply. Though you had separated due to the distance, both of you still harbored feelings for each other. Surprised by your call, he answered immediately, letting out a small laugh when he realized you were drunk.

“Are you walking home alone? Don’t hang up, I’ll talk to you until you get there… So, tell me, what was the otter like?”

⭑.ᐟ eunseok

“Why are you calling me now, y/n?”

“Do you ever think about me, Eunseok?”

Eunseok didn’t expect your call late at night, much less for your first words in months to be that. He stayed silent for a few moments before letting out a sigh.

“Have you been drinking, y/n?”

“Just… answer my question…” From the tone of your voice, he knew you were drunk.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, y/n. We’re not talking about this if you won’t even remember it when you wake up.”

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

“Huh? Sungchan? Why did you call me?”

“You’re the one who called me, yn…”

After your office dinner, you had a little too much to drink and accidentally called Sungchan. When he answered and heard your voice, he couldn’t help but laugh at how confused you sounded.

“It was me…? Sorry, I meant to call a taxi…” you said, about to hang up before he spoke again.

“Where are you, y/n? Have you been drinking?”

Even though it had been months since you broke up, Sungchan still cared for you deeply. He decided to stay on the phone to make sure you got home safely.

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

“Mgh…?”

Wonbin was already asleep when you called, his voice groggy as he answered. You had just gotten home from a party, but for some reason, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Memories of all the sweet moments you shared flooded your mind.

“I miss coming home and sleeping next to you…”

“Huh, y/n? Why are you calling so late?”

“I miss you, Wonbin… Don’t you miss me? Don’t you miss anything about me?”

“Ah… you’re drunk, aren’t you? I do miss you, y/n, but… this isn’t the time to talk about it.”

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

“y/n? Is something wrong?”

After drinking with your friends at a bar, memories of how things ended with Seunghan overwhelmed you. You hadn’t been able to say a proper goodbye, and it still haunted you. Seeing your call, he answered, concerned, it wasn’t like you to call so late. But hearing your voice, he quickly realized what was going on.

“I’m so sorry, Seunghan… I’m sorry for leaving like that, for how I treated you, and… I hope someday you can forgive me, you know? I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or what, but I miss you so much right now…”

“You don’t need to apologize, y/n… Are you okay? Are you with anyone? I can come pick you up…”

⭑.ᐟ sohee

“Do you know how much I sacrificed for you? And you haven’t even apologized yet…”

The last thing Sohee expected that day was a call from you, let alone a drunken, angry one. Although he didn’t like the way you were speaking to him, he also didn’t want to argue with you in that state.

“I’m not going to talk to you about this right now, y/n. I already explained why we broke up… Are you home? Please go to bed. If you want, I’ll call you tomorrow, but don’t do this now.”

⭑.ᐟ anton

“y/n, what…?”

“Anton? I didn’t know who else to call… I’ve been drinking, and I started feeling sick on my way home… I think I’m near your place, but I don’t know…”

You thought you could get home without a taxi after a party, but you started feeling dizzy and lost along the way. Even though Anton was your ex, you knew he’d always answer, so you called him for help. Hearing your voice, Anton immediately grew nervous, worrying about you and getting ready to find you. He didn’t hold any grudges against you, if anything, he still hadn’t completely gotten over you. Without hesitation, he went out to help.

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies @ramyeonzprincess @yuzuksi

[strang3lov3]

The First Taste

Roman offers you money if you just let him put the tip in. Just the tip, that's all (it's not all).

Tags - smut, loss of virginity, virgin!reader, virginity kink, big dick roman roy, dare i call that cock gargantuan, ludicrously capacious, even? Unprotected piv, fingering, blow jobs, cunnilingus, hand jobs, nipple stim, just the tip (it’s never just the tip) dubcon, manipulation, deception, coercion, betrayal, Roman solicits sex from reader and is also insensitive about stds, pay him no mind. I made myself soaking wet every day while writing this so. Do what you will with that information. 5.8k words. A/N - This is just...smut. Beginning to end. I’m gonna be working on stepdaddy after this, probably write a stepdaddy sick fic cuz I feel kinda like shit. Kisses to all yall sluts 😘

Finally, some fucking quiet. For now. 

The couple in the hotel room next to yours has been going at it all night, a marathon of fucking. Endless moans, rhythmic squeaking of the bed becoming louder and faster, then quieter and slower. This couple makes you wonder if their room is the honeymoon suite or something, the way they’re fucking like a couple of newly-wed bunnies. You rest against the plush headboard, closing your stinging eyes momentarily. 

You dipped from the wedding an hour or so ago, maybe closer to two hours at this point. It’s about midnight now. You’re alone in your room, crinkling the once neatly made bedding as you play a dumb little game on your phone. Your mind wanders as you mindlessly tap the screen, thinking about what the couple next door is doing. What he’s doing to her, what she’s doing to him. How good it all feels, probably. You wonder what it’s like. 

Knock. Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock–

Roman. You don’t even have to look through the peephole to know it’s him. Nobody else knocks like that, and nobody else would show up at your door at this particular hour. You sigh as you get out of bed, taking heavy steps toward the door before opening it. 

“Evening, sexpot. You have something of mine and I’d like it back, please and thank you.” 

Roman’s still wearing the outfit he wore during the wedding, though missing his suit jacket and tie. The sleeves of his white button down shirt are rolled above his elbows, there’s an extra button undone. Once neatly slicked back, his hair is now disheveled, a few loose strands falling over his eyebrows. His eyes are half-lidded, lips curled into that smug, casual, infuriatingly handsome smirk he always wears. He looks gorgeous. 

“I do?” you ask, thinking before remembering quickly. “Oh, shit. Yeah, I do.” You open the door wider and make space to allow him to follow behind you, Roman first closing the door. You unplug his charger from the wall outlet and wrap the cord in a figure-eight around your fingers, some habit you’re not sure where or when you picked up. Roman holds out his hand and you place the charger in his palm. “So is the wedding finally over?”

“Mhm. You vanished on me, though, Cinderella. I thought I’d get at least a dance out of you but you stood me up, you heartbreaker, you. Felt like a virgin on prom night,” Roman laments with a dramatic flair, no real hurt in his tone. “But I’ll live. Me and some bridesmaid-chick totally dry humped on the dance floor, so it all worked out.”

You know he’s teasing, probably lying. Embellishing the truth. But it makes you squirm just the same, and you’re not totally sure why. You could be a little jealous, maybe. But there’s another reason, too.

“Anyway, uh. Thanks. I’ll leave you to it,” Roman says, toying with the charger cord. 

“No, thank you. Came in hand–” 

“Oh, fuck, like that. Just like that, harder, harder, fuck, ohhhh!” 

You’re interrupted by the sounds of your temporary neighbor’s moans that you’ve become very well-acquainted with. “Oh my god,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. 

Roman’s lips curl into an even wider smile, his eyes lighting up as he raises his eyebrows. “Oh, nice!” he says, giggling, “Man. That’s awesome. Lucky you, with your front row seat to the show. Maybe there’s a hole in the wall behind this mirror or something. You should see if you can watch.”

“They’ve been going at it for hours,” you deadpan. 

Roman nods in approval, that big, stupid smile still on his lips. “Awh, fuck yeah. Good for them. You should ask to join. We both could, actually. Let’s go knock.”

Your cheeks heat up at the idea, even knowing Roman’s not serious. Probably not serious, at least. Roman notices this, takes mental notes of your flustered expression, how you look anywhere but at him. The shifting of your feet, the unnecessary movements your body makes as you squirm. “Ahh, too shy. I get it,” Roman says. “So you’re just - you’re…what, jerking off to it in here, all by your lonesome? Fuck, did I interrupt? How rude, let me get out–”

“No!”

“No? You want me to stay?”

“No - you - I–” you huff, closing your eyes as you inhale and exhale a deep breath. “I meant that I’m not…you know. Doing that.”

Roman’s eyes sparkle. “It’s okay, you can admit it. I know you ladies are more, you know - audio than visual.” He wiggles his fingers by his ears as he paces slowly around the room, inspecting the slice of cake you brought back with you from the wedding, swiping a bit of frosting off the plate with his finger before sucking on it.

“Stop it, Roman.”

“I think I’m gonna stay a while, if you don’t mind. Listen to the music.”

“Whatever, knock yourself out. I’m not sleeping as long as they’re still doing it.” 

True to his word, Roman listens intently to the sounds of the couple fucking. You wouldn’t expect anything else from him. He makes little faces of intrigue or surprise at the noises, the extra loud moans or the occasional smack. You regret allowing him to stay. This is so fucking awkward, so you distract yourself by tidying up your already-pristine hotel room. Rearranging some glasses that haven’t been touched, then pouring yourself another glass of water even though you’re not actually thirsty. Roman notices all of this, too. At some point his attention shifts from the muffled noises coming from the other side of the wall to you, how you nervously flit around the room. He decides to up the tension, to make it all worse for you.

“We should fuck,” he says plainly. “You know, louder than them. Establish our dominance. There’s a bed right there.” 

It takes you a second to reply. “Funny,” is all you say, your voice coming out quietly and not very confident. Fuck. 

“You’re very shy about it, you know that?”

“Shy about what?”

“Oh, fucking - c’mon. You know what,” he deadpans. “Sex! Coitus. Fornicating. Love mak–”

“No, yeah. I got it–”

“Fucking,” Roman interrupts. “So why are you all shy about it?”

“I’m not - I’m not shy,” you stutter.

“But you are. Because you don’t talk about it, ever. You like, clam up, get all fuckin’ weird and quiet,” Roman says, gesturing to you. “And like right now, you won’t even look at me. It’s almost like you’re nervous or something. Are you?” he pauses, “Nervous, that is?”

You’re feeling defensive now, cornered, as Roman’s wedged himself deep under your skin. “No, I just - what does it matter, Roman?” you snap. Sighing, you sit on the edge of the bed and cross your arms. 

“I just wanna know, that’s all. Just curious,” he replies, tempering his tone to be much less pointed, less mocking. “You know me. No judgement here.”

“I just…don’t feel the need to talk about it, I guess.”

“You can’t even say it,” Roman digs, crossing his arms. “Are you a prude? Is that it?”

“No, Roman, I’m not a prude. It’s just a very personal thing for some people.”

“Naturally.”

“Not that you’d understand,” you bite.

Roman presses a hand against his chest, pretending you’ve just shot him. “Ouch. But yeah, no, I get it.” Roman pauses, then joins you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. “Is it herpes?” he whispers. “It’s herpes, isn’t it? You know, there’s no shame in it. I’ve actually created new strains of STDs myself in the course of all of my sexcapades. And look at me, I’m not ashamed,” he smiles, stifling a giggle at his own joke.

“If that’s true, Roman, you really should be. And don’t be facetious. That’s not something to laugh about.”

“No, you’re right, I’m sorry,” he concedes, the apology devoid of any sincerity at all. “So are you saving it for marriage, then? Gonna give Mr. Right your most precious gift?”

You freeze then. Roman’s getting warmer, burning hot. It’s not the truth, but it’s not…not…the truth. An inch away from uncovering your big secret, that you’re a virgin. Never had sex, not once. 

It must be written all over your face in big, bolded letters or something, because Roman’s face twists in realization. His eyes are sparkling, jaw dropped in an open, wry smile. “Holy fuck,” he scoffs. “You’re shitting me. Virgin?! You’re a virgin? Oh my god, gross. Ew,” he laughs, turning your cheek to force you to look at him. 

It makes you feel bad inside. Insecure. Your bottom lip quivers a little as tears well up in your eyes, that awful feeling of embarrassment taking over every one of your senses. Face hot, ears pounding, the walls closing in. “Roman,” you whisper, tilting your chin down to hide yourself.

“Hey - heyyy. Don’t fuckin’...don’t be like that,” he says, tilting your face back up. Roman laughs, then makes a sympathetic expression as he pulls you close, wrapping his strong arms around you in a tight hug. Some of your tears soak the collar of his shirt as he presses your face into his shoulder. “I’m very sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I took it too far, that’s on me. I’m sorry. Hey–” Roman nuzzles your hair, “I mean it. I’m sorry.” 

You don’t say anything. You’re too pissed to speak but even if you weren’t, you’re not sure that you could conjure up any sort of response to…whatever the fuck just happened.

“It’s not so terrible, being a virgin.” Roman offers, rubbing your back soothingly as he kisses the top of your head. “There’s worse things to be.” 

“Yeah? Like what?�� you ask, voice muffled as you mumble into his shirt. 

“Like…fuckin’ dead, I guess.” Roman thinks for a second, “Or ugly. And you’re not that, so…”

“Thanks, Rome,” you reply flatly. 

“And guys like virgins,” he adds. “Like, do you know how much some creeps would pay to fuck virgin pussy?”

“Uhh…”

“Millions. They’d pay millions,” Roman says, taking note of how your ears perk up at the statement, the incredulous look you give him. “Yeah, now that’s interesting to you, isn’t it? Shit, I’d pay you for it. Let’s skip the middleman, huh?”

“What? No.” You pull away from Roman’s arms. 

“Yes. Why not?”

Why not? Just the littlest amount of pushback from Roman and you’re already questioning the lines you’ve drawn in the sand for yourself. For a moment, you contemplate the idea of having sex with Roman, and you’re tempted - his naked body on yours, pleasuring you in a way you’ve never felt at the hands of someone else before, his attention all on you. His perfect, soft lips on yours as he swallows your moans, loving you the way you deserve. But ultimately you decide no, it’s not happening. It can’t happen. Not like how he’s suggesting. He doesn’t have the capacity to handle something like this with any amount of respect or tact.

“I don’t know, Roman. I guess that I always envisioned my first time having sex being with someone that I love. Or trust, at the very least.” 

“And you don’t trust me?”

You scoff “Fuck, no.”

“Yeah, that’s smart,” Roman nods. “Okay, fine. I won’t pressure you. You save that special little gift of yours for someone who deserves it.” 

You nod as you look down at the floor, tracing the pattern in the carpet with your eyes, gasping when you feel Roman touch your bare knee. “Or…” he murmurs.

“Or?”

Roman’s had the idea of screwing you in his head for a while now, and by his own admission, is especially turned on at the prospect of being the first one to fuck you. It fills him with a primal sort of feeling, knowing that at least for a moment, you’d be his. Your first lover’s name you’d moan would be his, your first orgasm at the hands of another will belong to him only, forever. There’s something about taking your virginity that fills him with a sickening, all-consuming sort of need. He’ll do it, too. By any means necessary.    

“Just the tip,” he whispers, his warm hand sliding up your thigh to toy with the edge of your pajama shorts. He wriggles them even higher, not stopping even when you hold your breath and grab his wrist to keep him from traveling further. “Chill. I’m not doing anything,” Roman mumbles, sliding his hand out from under yours to take your hand and put it flat on the bed. He holds your thigh again and speaks slowly, quietly, “You just let me put the tip in and I’ll pay you the same. Whatever - whatever fuckin’ number you want, alright? Put however many zeroes at the end, and it’s yours…if you just let me put the tip in. Sounds easy enough, right?”

“Just the tip,” you repeat quietly, thinking…thinking that it sounds like bullshit, and yet, you’re kind of falling for it anyway. He makes you feel stupid, even when he’s not insulting you.

Roman speaks again before you can talk yourself out of it. “Just the tip,” he lies. “So long as I don’t - you know, fully penetrate you - technically, you’d still be a virgin by the end of our little thing.”

“You’re saying it wouldn’t count?” 

Roman nods his head. “Wouldn’t count at all. It’s…a loophole of sorts,” he says, tracing his fingertips up and down your thigh, inching closer and closer to where he wants to feel you the most. “Virginity stays intact. C’mon,” he urges.

You’re fighting yourself. Roman can see the temptation and the self-preservation fighting each other in your mind, and he can’t let the smarter, safer side of you win this. 

“You’ve got nothing to lose,” he adds. And he’d get to satisfy a curiosity, but that’s not something he needs to tell you. 

“I don’t know, Rome. It - something about it makes me nervous.”

“I know. But I’ll be gentle with you, alright? I’ll take it nice and fuckin’ slow, walk you through the whole thing. No surprises.” Roman shifts a little and reaches into his pocket for his wallet, then pulls out a stack of bills, all hundreds, and places them on your nightstand. “There. Call it a fuckin’...deposit or whatever, I don’t know. Now do we have a deal or not, virgin?”

You bite your lip as you think - or do something resembling thinking, rather. You can’t think clearly, not with Roman’s hands now on your waist. He doesn’t have to touch you anywhere private or sensitive - just his hands on your body is enough to make your brain fucking melt, you poor thing. Don’t even know how badly you need it, need him. Roman will make it all better. Fix you. 

“C’mon, baby,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling your ear. He presses a couple of kisses against the side of your neck, feeling your pulse beneath his tongue as he licks you there. You let out a broken moan in response, nodding urgently. Roman smiles against your skin in satisfaction. “Attagirl,” he murmurs, then pulls away from you. Your pupils are blown wide, lips parted. Perfect. 

He dims the lamps around the room and turns off the overhead lights, casting the room in a warm, orange glow before joining you on the bed again. “Let’s fuckin’ do this thing. You ready?”

“I don’t - I don’t -”

Roman calms you down before you spiral. “Shh, relax. Relax. We’re going slow, like I said,” he reminds you. “God, you’re so fuckin’...c’mere.” 

Roman puts both of his strong hands on your face, thumbs on your jaw, the rest of his fingers firmly pressing into your neck. He pulls you close and kisses you, and his lips feel even better than they look. You let out a little noise that Roman doesn’t acknowledge; he only continues to move his lips tenderly against yours, deepening the kiss when you begin to reciprocate. 

He’s an excellent kisser. The way he uses his tongue makes you feel dizzy and sets your whole body on fire, and you feel his hands everywhere. Your face, your neck, your waist, digging his fingers into you and squeezing you like he loves you. “Gimme these.” Roman takes your hands in his own and puts them on his own shoulders, his silent way of showing you how it all should be done as he inches closer to you. 

He’s warm, warmer than you imagined. Warm in a comforting way. He smells so…him. Slightly sweaty, but not in a bad way, with his cologne worn down to its base notes. He tastes good, but you couldn’t even begin to describe. You’d be content with just this tonight, really. 

Roman deepens the kiss and lays you down gently, caging you in with his body. You’re still feeling out of your depth, unsure of where or how or if you should even touch him, though Roman doesn’t seem to mind. Of course he doesn’t mind. He’s got only one thing on his brain, and that’s ruining you. Touch him however you like or don’t touch him, he doesn’t give a fuck. 

His fingers crawl beneath your shirt, climbing up your body until he’s squeezing gently at the flesh of your breasts. You gasp when he rubs his thumb in circles over your nipple, feeling it harden with his touch. “Rome-” you breathe, clutching his bicep. 

“It’s okay,” he tells you, repeating the action with your other nipple, causing you to writhe beneath him. “I gotta get you ready for it, sweetheart.”

Roman pushes your shirt up as high as it’ll go, and kisses your neck, dragging his tongue down your skin. He uses the muscle to tease one of your nipples, putting to use his lips and teeth as well. His hands travel down your body, fingers passing over the neat little bow at the front of your pajama bottoms as they slide down towards your center.

You gasp when you feel him touch you there, just over the fabric. Roman groans as he rubs his fingers, feeling how you’ve soaked yourself. “Yeah, you weren’t fuckin’ lying, were you? Made a goddamn mess down here,” he mumbles, pressing little kisses against your neck. 

“Lying about what?” you breathe.

Roman has to stifle his laugh so as not to embarrass you, but you are such a cliche, absolutely drenched from a bit of kissing. Too easy. “Shh, nothing,” he says. “Nothing. You’re fine.” Roman pulls your panties and shorts to the side, exposing your cunt to himself. “Has anyone ever touched you here before?”

You shake your head. “Mm-mm.”

Roman only nods as pulls your thighs apart, and your heart pounds hard. He traces your lips only momentarily before diving between your folds, feeling the pool of arousal he’s caused. 

“Fuck,” you moan, eyes squeezing shut as you arch into his touch. “R-Roman, Roman…”

“Ohh, man, you’re sensitive,” Roman laughs quietly, rubbing lazy circles over your clit. “Holy fuck. That feel good? Huh, virgin?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, squeezing his forearm and bicep with your hands as if to anchor yourself or something. You feel like you’re gonna break. Everything feels heightened, but sort of sharp and fuzzy at the same time. Your head spins, and you can’t keep track of your thoughts. 

You whine when Roman pushes his middle and ring fingers into your pussy, pumping them in and out slowly. “How does that feel?” he asks.

“Good, kinda - uh…kind - kind of hurts.”

“You gotta relax,” he tells you, “ It’s okay.”  

Roman shifts a little and smiles at you before curling his fingers, stroking that special, sensitive little place deep inside your cunt you’ve probably never found on your own before. By the way your eyes roll back into your head and how you squeeze your legs shut around his arm, Roman guesses he’s right. “Oh my - fuck, Rome, that - you–” Your voice comes out in broken, breathy moans and you don’t bother finishing your sentence. All you can do is bury your face into his neck and try not to shatter into a million pieces. 

Roman fingers you like that for a minute or two longer, listening to those wet noises your cunt makes for him, then slows down his movements before pulling away. “You’re ready for it,” he tells you.

“I am?”

“Absolutely.” 

Roman leans back and sits you up, then pulls off your shirt without saying so much as a single word. He does the same to your shorts and panties, tossing them into a crumpled pile on the carpet. The way you squirm and hide yourself makes Roman smile. “Don’t be shy. I need to be able to see what I’m working with, right?”

“Yeah, no. That makes sense.”

“Hold on.” Roman unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off, pulling off his undershirt too. His bulge is sizable in his black slacks, and when he unbuckles his belt and pulls the rest of his clothes off, his hard cock slapping against his tummy, your eyes widen. His dick is massive. The tip reaches his belly button, and it’s curved beautifully, slightly to the right. Roman wraps his fingers around it and squeezes, knuckles whitening a little.

“Y-you’re fucking huge,” you stutter.

“I know, right? It’s Roman Roy’s best kept secret.” He smiles wide, pleased with himself as he winks at you. “Alright. Spread those legs and let’s fuckin’ party.” Roman reaches for your ankles and pulls them apart, eyebrows raising when you fight to keep them closed. 

“No! No, don’t.”

“...No?” Roman drops your ankles and sits back, eyeing you. “Scared?”

“Very.” 

He chuckles. “You’ve never even felt a cock before, have you?” Roman asks, stroking his cock slowly. You shake your head and he nods in understanding. “Wow, it really is all new to you. That’s my bad, sweetheart.” 

Roman lays down next to you again, this time flat on his back. He shifts a little and grabs your wrist, guiding your hand to his cock. “Get to know it a little. Just touch it, however you want,” he instructs. Roman waits for you to touch him, but you’re frozen. He raises an eyebrow, “It’s not gonna bite you.”

“I know, I just don’t know…don’t know what to do.”

Roman says nothing, only presses your fingertips against the large, blunt head of his cock. “Like this,” he says, dragging your fingers down his shaft. He wraps your fingers around his length, then lets you go. Your turn.

You slide your palm up and down his dick, just…taking it all in. His cock feels heavy in your hand which doesn’t surprise you, but you’re struck by his warmth, the heat radiating from him. You trace his veins, then squeeze him slightly in your fist, feeling him throb a little. 

Roman patiently lets you explore, despite it being an excruciating tease, groaning softly as he tilts his head back. “Now when you do this for real, with your Mr. Right or whoever,” Roman says, “Don’t just tease him like this. You’ll piss him off,” he warns.

“I will?”

“Oh yeah. No, you’re even pissing me off a little bit. Like, if this weren’t a teaching moment, I’d fuck you in two for this shit.” Roman words scare you a bit, and you stop touching him. “Relax, will you? It’s not gonna happen. You’re in good hands.” 

“Okay.”

“Let me show you what to do instead.” Roman takes your hand again, this time spitting in it. “You grab it like you mean it,” he says, wrapping your fingers tightly around his cock, tighter than you would have done yourself. “And–” Roman slides your palm up and down his length, helping you to maintain that firm pressure, “You go all the way up, all the way down. Like - fuck - yeah, like that. You’re a fuckin’ natural, virgin, look at you.”

Roman lets you work him on your own, simply enjoying the feel of your hand on his cock. He thinks it’s cute when you circle his tip with your fingers - it’s not something he taught you to do, but he doesn’t mind it. 

“Does this feel like, good?”

“Feels awesome. But,” Roman purrs, “You know what’d feel even better?”

“What?”

“You gotta be brave, sweetheart. Do you want to be brave for me?”

You’re not feeling very brave or adventurous but you nod a little anyway, and Roman jumps at the opportunity. He moves you down the bed, sitting you down between his thighs that are spread wide. “You’re gonna suck my dick,” he tells you, grabbing your face with one of his hands. “Don’t freak out, okay? You’re gonna be fine. Open your mouth.” 

Roman holds his thick cock between his thumb, middle, and forefingers. He taps the head against your bottom lip, encouraging you to open wider. When you open your mouth more, Roman lowers your head and fits himself between your lips, simply letting you get used to the feeling of him there. It takes a lot of patience on his part, to not fuck your mouth here and now. 

You’re not sure what to do, and Roman knows this. Tangling his fingers in your hair, he bounces your head just a little on his cock, your tongue sliding over his weeping slit. The taste of his precome surprises you - it’s a salty, warm, masculine sort of flavor that you don’t really mind. You’re pleased by how soft his skin feels, how he smells. Gaining confidence, you take him deeper into your mouth.

If Roman were a better man, he’d stop you - he’d warn you that you’re going to choke on his cock, that it’s gonna be too much too quickly. But that’s not Roman, not by a long shot. He inches you further down his cock with each bob of your head, grinning at the way you gurgle and sputter a little. “Little more,” he says. “Keep going.”

Cock in mouth, drool dripping down your chin, you look at Roman, searching for some sort of approval or encouragement. “You got it. And use your tongue, sweetheart. You can make a mess on me. You should, actually.”

You move your tongue in inconsistent patterns, swirling it around his length as Roman moves your head. “Breathe through your nose,” he instructs. “You’re doing so well.”

 He lets out soft little groans and his eyes shut for a moment, lips parted. Saliva is running down his cock and your jaw is beginning to ache from his girth, but Roman ignores your noises of discomfort and the tears in your eyes. He fucks himself deeply into your mouth, pushing you far past the point he should. Then suddenly, you gag and cough harshly, pulling yourself off of him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck,” you spit.

Roman rubs your back and stretches across the bed, reaching for your glass of water. “You’re good, you’re alright,” he says, pressing the glass against your lips. “Have some water. You’re not supposed to take me all at once, virgin. That’s how you choke,” he taunts.  

After finishing the water, Roman takes your glass and sets it back on the nightstand. “Alright. Back to you, sweetheart. Lie back and spread your legs for me.” 

You tremble a little as you lie down, parting your legs only a little. You feel the bed shift with Roman’s moving weight and close your eyes, nervously anticipating the inevitable. 

Roman pushes your knees toward your chest and lowers himself, smirking at how tense you look with your short breaths, your fingers fidgeting with the comforter. He could warn you of what’s to come with a couple of kisses pressed against your inner thighs, but it’ll be more fun to surprise you. 

He licks your sex from bottom to top with a flat tongue, dragging it slowly through your folds. “Roman,” you gasp, hands darting for his head. You tangle your fingers in the sleek strands of his hair, tugging on them tightly. “You - you’re–”

“Shh,” he interrupts. His stubble scratches your inner thighs as he teases you, tongue circling your clit. Roman buries himself in that softest and most private place on your body, rubbing the tip of his perfect nose against your clit as he tastes you. He circles your entrance a couple of times before dipping inside, tasting your arousal right from the hole it trickles from. 

You’re babbling incoherently, whimpering his name as he then drags his tongue up and down your folds. He circles your clit once, then twice, then pulls the hood back and laves over the sensitive bud repeatedly, forcing you to lie still with a strong hand holding you down. He savors you like this, how you shudder and shake, muscles tensing as you fight to close your legs, not used to a feeling so intense. Roman fucks you with his tongue, guiding you through the first orgasm you’ve ever shared with another as you gush into his mouth, clit throbbing under his tongue. 

When Roman pulls away, you feel like you could cry. You bite your bottom lip to keep it from wobbling and try to will away that pressure building behind your eyes, but it’s hard. You wonder if Roman notices. 

“Now you’re really fuckin’ ready,” he tells you. 

“Okay,” you breathe, voice shaking. “Just the tip?”

“Mhm. Just the tip,” Roman confirms. He hovers over you and reaches between your legs to gather your arousal on his fingertips, then coats his cock in your slick. When he presses the thick head of his dick against your pussy, your heart races. You can’t conjure the words to tell him what you need, and urgently take his free hand in yours. 

“You wanna hold my hand?” Roman smirks and laces his fingers between yours, pinning your hand against the bed. “We can hold hands, sweetheart.” And then, in one swift, brutal motion, Roman fully buries his cock fully inside you. 

It sends you reeling. He’s so huge, it feels like he’s splitting you in two. You feel betrayed and try to squirm away, but Roman forces you to stay down with a hand on your ribcage. Forces you to take it, to feel it all. “Shhh, shh. You’re - hey - you’re fine.” Roman catches the free hand you use to try and shove him backwards and pins it to the bed with the other. 

“Y-you–” you sob, unable to form a sentence. 

“Ohhh, I know, I know, I know,” Roman coos mockingly. “I played a dirty trick on you, huh? Wasn’t very nice of me, was it?”

You look at Roman and cry, tears falling down your temples and into your hair. With his hand still clutching yours, he uses your own knuckles to wipe some tears away. “Poor thing. You’ll get used to it.” 

“But you said–”

“I know what I said,” Roman interrupts. “It’s never just the tip, baby, you know that. Or–” Roman pauses, thrusting into you deeply, “Maybe you really don’t know that. But this is real life, sweetheart. It’s a cruel fuckin’ world out there.” 

Roman sets a pace then, drawing in and out of you. Not particularly harshly or quickly, because the penetration alone hurts enough. He rocks his hips, pulling out of you and filling you up all the way with every stroke. 

“Roman, stop–”

“No. Fucking take it.”   

Roman ignores your sounds of discomfort, going so far as to cover your mouth instead. Your sobs are muffled under his palm, skin dampening with tears and saliva. Roman builds the tempo, lips curled into that awful, lopsided smile. “Listen to yourself. You’re fuckin’ soaked, do you hear that?” he taunts through a strained breath. 

The pain is utterly blinding, until it isn’t. You almost resent the way the hurt is replaced with pleasure now, because the betrayal is still there. Betrayal by Roman, and now by your own body. This…this isn’t what you were promised. You trusted Roman and he exploited that, but you’re fucking enjoying it.

Roman’s palm tastes salty over your mouth. When he removes it, a moan slips past your lips, and Roman grins. “Yeah, there it is. Not so terrible, huh, baby?”

You free your hands from his grip and wrap your arms around his shoulders, which is the only thing that feels right. You don’t entirely know why, you just know that you need him close. Roman pulls back a little to watch you, his greenish, hazel eyes darkened with something primal as he pulls out of you and pushes into you, again and again and again. You bury your face in his neck as he fucks you, and one of his hands slide up your torso to grope your breast and tease your nipple.

“Your pussy feels so fuckin’ good,” Roman grunts, rutting his hips into you. He’s in love with all of this, in truth. Addicted. How soft your body is for him, for his hands to squeeze and his fingers to dig into. He could fucking eat you. 

He fits his hand between your bodies, the heel of his palm pressing into your pubic bone. He rubs your clit in circles, thrusting into you harder, faster, deeper. “Look at me. Right here” he pants, using his free hand to hold your face. “Come on my cock. Come for me, sweetheart.”

He pulls your orgasm from you effortlessly. Roman’s name spills from your lips in choking sobs as you come on his cock, feeling impossibly full as your cunt pulses around him. It’s the heaviest, most overwhelming feeling, washing over you in waves, muscles spasming and twitching. Roman’s thrusts turn frenzied and frantic, and there it is - he’s coming too. Milking himself inside you, spurting thick, hot ropes of his come, and you take all of it. 

Roman pulls out of you then, and uses two fingers to push his escaped spend back inside your poor, raw, throbbing cunt. This time, you do cry. “Ohh, come here,” Roman says softly. He scoops you up into his arms and holds you tightly, stroking your hair. “You okay?”

“No,” you sniffle. 

“No?” Roman repeats, momentarily moving you to lean over the bed. He reaches for his pants and grabs his phone out of the pocket, then takes his place next to you again, pulling you into his side tightly. “You’ll get over it. Watch,” he murmurs, unlocking his phone and opening Venmo. He pulls up your profile and shows you the screen, the little blue cursor blinking. You type in a number, then give the phone back to Roman, who adds an extra zero before tapping Pay.

If you enjoyed, please lmk ♡ i love when you reblog and send me asks. It means the world to me ♡

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[occamstfs]

Conjuration: The Call

Ozzie begrudgingly plays a thinly disguised trading card game and finds some fun teaching his meathead friend a lesson.

Something between a role reversal and devolution! Jock -> Twink and Nerd -> Brute! Hope you enjoy this tale of a wishful role-player growing to dominate a try hard, Best! -Occam

Ozzie absolutely hated trading card games, he missed the boat and loathed being made to feel stupid like they always end up doing. Perhaps some self-reflection could see him giving Conjuration: the Call a fair shake, when a game of CTC was thrust on him instead of the DND session he was coming to play, the man was in not so charitable a mood.

Prepped to play his Druid all night, Ozzie is sulking in the kitchen when his friend Lily, patient zero of getting their group playing CTC again, brings over a proxy deck she made for him. “Heyyy babe~ Sorry about the bait and switch, I thought we were going to play DND too but apparently Mark’s sick and Alex thought this would be a great chance for you to learn how to play!”

His scowl quickly shifts between Lily, her half-hearted olive branch, and their friend group’s surly Adonis, Alex, who winks before returning to set up the table for their game. Ozzie sighs, not wanting to make a scene, he reaches out to inspect the printed deck in her hands. She perks up, “perfect! You’re gonna love it I swear!

The hitherto hater sighs, “ughh. You guys are just going to steamroll me like always! Is the deck too complicated to learn on the fly?” Her eyes glimmer as she slyly makes sure Alex can’t hear, “Not at all! I’ll be right there if you need any help and-“ 

Before she can explain, the man at the table interrupts, “you ladies done yet?” In their running campaign the impatient Alex plays a barbarian which mimics both his stature and nature out of game quite well, in Conjuration however he’s emerged as quite the rival to Lucy. Which Ozzie knows as she begins to explain, now at a whisper, “okay so it’s actually a deck to counter Alex’s.”

She immediately goes to defend her ulterior motives as Ozzie’s scowl returns with a vengeance, “oh c’mooon Ozz, I made this whole deck for you! I found the commander in the bulk bin and thought it sounded like your thing!” Shuffling through the box he checks it out, Loggan the Brain, nice and holographic. He pauses to appreciate how it feels in his hands, heavier than expected and almost warm to the touch. After a moment he looks up to find Lily has already gone to join the rest of the party at the table.

Finishing up his huffing, Ozzie sits opposite Alex who performatively flexes as he shuffles his deck, “Ready to get schooled by the man?” They’re friends at the end of the day so Ozzie doesn’t try to hide his irritation as he responds, “oh I’m sure there’s nothing you love more than beating newbies huh”

Alex takes a few seconds trying to think of some clever reply but after a few playful jibes from Lily and Tim, their fourth player, he decides to save any further taunts for the game. It’s not Ozzie’s first time playing Conjuration, how else would he hold it in such blatant disregard. Resolutely he refuses a tutorial from Alex and Lily. The pair make eye contact as they try to push down the urge to take candy from the new player and instead scheme how they can both use his inexperience to their advantage.

The first couple rounds go by in a flash, the other three begin setting up decks they are clearly incredibly familiar with while Ozzie races to read the little cheat sheet Lily made for the deck before performing a decent opening few rounds himself. Ozzie figures Alex must be running some kind of counterspell deck as Lily’s notes make it very clear that this proxy is a counter-counterspell deck, as it were. 

Lily would never be able to play this deck as it relies on someone counterspelling the Loggan the Brain without checking the specifics, and Alex would never do so to someone with as firm a grasp as her. When Ozzie goes to summon his commander though there's a glimmer in the jock’s eyes as his fingers go to counter the summon before Ozzie even announces, and in doing so he falls into the trap of the deck. 

Alex reaches over to push Loggan back off the board only to be stopped by Lily, almost shaking from excitement as she bursts out into laughter and explains the situation. She points to the ability text Drain: Start of the round gains one “Devolution” spell card. When “Devolution” is used to counter an offensive spell on yourself, put a token on Loggan the Brain. After ten tokens are placed on Loggan the Brain, replace him with Ogg the Brawn.

Hearing his opponent groan from an easily averted own goal he finishes his turn to see Alex scratching his chest and complaining, “I’ve never seen these stupid cards before, are you sure these are legal?” His eyes narrow at Lily who shrugs and tries to taunt him into casting a spell at Ozzie, “Who knows man, maybe it’s not even that good? You should cast a spell at him to see what it does!” With a wry grin she meets Alex’s scowl. For now he stills his hand as they prepare to deal with the quiet Tim as he quickly becomes the biggest threat on the board.

When it comes back to Ozzie’s turn the fun begins at last, launching a spell at Alex who has no choice but to counter, which is of course met with the new player’s own “Devolution” counter. Ozzie and Alex both open their mouths to complain, about the game being convoluted and unfair respectively. Before they can lash out however both men see a token appear on Loggan the Brain without anyone reaching to put it there. 

Only Alex and Ozzie seem to notice the board changing without any human aid, before they can react however they are both filled with an alien warmth. Alex’s hands shoot to his crotch and his face flares with embarrassment. All eyes fall to him as he almost squeaks as his meaty hands struggle to hide the fact that he’s getting obscenely hard at the CTC table, “GrheEEK! AH- hEM” the macho man tries to hide the voice crack from the table, failing to do so they all incredulously stare.

“Psh jeez- can’t a dude sneeze? Fuck!” Knowing they have most of a game still ahead of them no one goes in too hard on Alex, even as his complaints sound decidedly whinier to their ears. Were they to look even a smidge closer at the sscowling man’s face they’d surely see its hard edges begin to soften as his scratchy perma-stubble starts thinning. Alex flips through his bulky hand wondering how he’s going to overcome the pair of opponents, ignorant as his arms are slowly drained of the strength he has honed for over a decade at the gym.

oes Ozzie fail to see how he too begins to shift over the next round. When all hands go to counter a spell cast once more the situation ends once more with Alex being rebuffed by a Devolution card Ozzie drew. Thin fingers go to cover his mouth as he tries to quiet his laughter at Alex’s lips pulling into a pout, looking plumper than usual. Ozzie ignores the flitter at finding that exciting to instead taunt the man looking mousier but is distracted as he scratches his cheek, “Ah c’mon there Aluh- hm.” 

Ozzie pauses as he hears his fingers scratching at, well it sounds like stubble? After a few more strokes he speaks up again, “Uhh guys did I need to shave when I came in?” The party is focussed on his question so they take no heed of his voice sagging deeper with every word. Instead they narrow their eyes at his jawline. It takes him quite a while to grow any kind of facial hair so it’s not like it just sprouted up all of a sudden? Right? Alex laughs and rubs his own face, “Ah Hah! Followin’ the lead of your favorite role model huh! Heehee! Er-”

All laugh as Alex giggles uncharacteristically, cuing him up to go all out and defend his fragile masculinity. Ozzie sits back and watches as him and Lily tag team their fourth player into an early knock-out. All the while though he begins to feel odd? His palms are sweaty, upon closer inspection he realizes his whole form is sweaty. 

Eyes off him he airs out his chest and yelps as he accidentally grabs a tuft of chest hair. He looks down his shirt, slightly obscured by a stubbly little mustache poking out of his upper lip and barely quiets a gasp from shock as he sees a few curls sticking out the center of his bony chest. His inspection then falls onto the hand still grasping at his tee, almost imperceptible blond hairs that have humbly decorated his wrist have lengthened, darkened, and spread into a truly thick jungle on his forearms.

Needing to draw a few more cards to get his target out, Alex can’t help but shoot a couple more spells out at Lily who then redirects them to Ozz. Returning his focus to the board he grunts and prepares to take the hit before checking his hand to find two more copies of Devolution in his hand. He tosses them clumsily on the table and guffaws and shouts in his gruffer voice, “Hah! When’re you gonna learn to not target the man, fucker!” Ozzie reclines once more as Alex ignores his taunts and continues to take his turn.

Half-way to switching out his commander for a card he hasn’t read yet he tugs down his shirt as he feels a breeze on his exposed midriff. There seems to be a volley of new curls stretching above his waistline, briefly making sure no one’s watching he scratches at the pubes slowly inching into a dense treasure trail and almost moans at the distracting pleasure. With each quivering new sensation the blonde curls he has long been proud of darken and recede to something choppy and brown, shrinking back as from every inch of his form curls of the same pervasive brown race to assert his primal masculinity.

With each drag into the growing garden of hair on his waist the urge to vocalize his pleasure grows more difficult to ignore. The stubble on his face continues to thicken, growing into something more than five o’clock shadow that would put Alex’s to shame at its best. Speaking of, as his usual ungroomed stubble continues to fade and shrink into a face shifting as smooth as porcelain he can’t help but stare at Ozzie’s face with jealousy, his cock pulsing once more in his gym shorts and he grits his teeth, forcing himself to focus on the game and not on how Ozzie’s sleeves almost seem to be hugging his arms.

Ozzie similarly doesn’t see as his eyes are closed to be almost obscenely lost in the fulfillment of scratching his itch. Though he feels it. His arms slowly edging larger, straining his sleeves almost to tearing with each meagre movement. He feels stubble slowly growing up past his neckline, giving him a few stray curls that would need a turtleneck to hide as his chest begins to amass new weight and muscle itself.

In his death throes Tim follows Lily’s lead and forces Alex to toss a few more spells that will hopefully be blocked at Ozzie. Still lost in the reverie of his changing form, Ozzie doesn’t even check his cards as his hand quickly shoots up from his crotch and tosses two cards onto the table. Without looking two more tokens appear on Loggan the Brain and both Alex and Ozz clench the table as they are struck with another wave of changes. 

The other two players at the table are suddenly engrossed in checking their hands, as if compelled to not notice as Alex is suddenly swimming in clothes that he chose explicitly to highlight how built he was looking today, his neckline droops low enough that it should expose his burly-hair covered chest. The only thing it shows now however are two spray-tanned pecs that seem to be shrinking.

Alex doesn’t notice as his shoes almost fall off of his feet as they drop a few sizes, no instead he bites his lip and stares hungrily at the man who was supposed to be his quarry. His cock feels wanting his balls blue, more than that though for the first time in his life his ass almost feels empty, in need of something- or someone. He doesn’t put two and two together as he continues to stare at Ozzie growing hairier. 

The once mousy man finally fills his nerdy tee enough that it begins to fray and tear. Similarly do the slacks he threw on for game day find themselves more than filled with meaty thighs and a package that has blossomed into an absolute veiny beast. His eyes widen in wonder as he takes it in for the first time. His thicker, rougher hands reach downward and with the slightest touch his hips buck and his zipper blows out as his cock strains it to the breaking point. Barely contained in his briefs Ozzie has to ignore the wet patch of pre staining through them and put all his energy towards not cumming then and there in front of his friends as the game remains ongoing.

While the two were distracted by their changing tastes and bodies, Tim was officially knocked out of the game leaving everyone worse for wear. Though after another couple rounds it becomes clear that Alex is very much off his game. His white teeth continue to chew at his plumper lips as he’s lost in thought. 

Ozzie similarly chews his lip, champing at the bit as he stares at the shrinking man. Fuuuck, he’s real cute when he works himself up. His inner monologue sinks deeper in tone to match his new voice as his thoughts grow rougher, simpler. Under the table his hand can’t help but go to his crotch as images of some massive beast of a man dominating the twink push to the front of his mind. Drool dripping from teeth bared onto Alex’s back as he arches up into heavy pecs, as if he were made to be under the man, if he were made to be under Ozz- Fuck.

Alex shivers as the table shakes from Ozzie rutting into it, gasping as his own ass fills out. He’d never really spent dedicated time crafting the perfect butt, or no- is that true? His phone suddenly fills with nudes taken of his sculpted, smooth butt and sent to- Ozzie’s bearded face forces itself to the front of his mind. Alex can almost feel his sweaty muscular chest against his own, his fingers curling around hair that inches up from his ass and down from his shoulders. He can almost feel the phantom cock he’s bouncing on before across the table the only player not lost to their lusts clears her throat.

“What is up with you guys?” There’s forced confidence but something is clearly throwing her off her game. Something’s not right. Is it? Oggie- Er, Ozzie? He’s always been a tank, it’s why he’s been so against playing right? And Alex, well shoot that twink is obsessed with Conjuration since it’s the only game or sport that he can beat his- She clenches at her head as she’s seized by a migraine. Perhaps that’s how she falls into the trap that Alex has been setting since turn one.

“Ah HA! Finally biitch! You played right into my hands!” His voice cracks higher, something in the back of her mind swears she’d never let Alex call her a bitch but as she looks at the twink she can’t imagine why. The cocky sneer remains on Alex's face as his hair lengthens into a floppy garden of dirty blonde curls, after looking at the board it fades a little as he struggles to recall how exactly he’s supposed to finish her, “Uhm?”

He scratches at his head and the sleeve hanging on his thin bicep slides back, revealing his pit as the last few hairs remaining of his once proud tuft fall away, leaving behind a fruity scent that will never quite fade instead of the heady musk that could never be quenched. Ozzie didn’t realize he was staring at the twinks pits as they finished smoothing. Looking to his own pit stains on a shirt that seems moments from bursting off his form, he grins toothily and figures he produces well enough stink for the both of them. His canines almost feel larger in his mouth.

 After the song and dance of Lily walking Alex through her own defeat, accompanied by a fair share of giggles from a man who wouldn’t be caught dead speaking even vaguely ‘like a chick’ before the game, Lily heads off with Tim to go grab pizza before the next game. Leaving behind Alex and Ozzie as the game nears its close. Both men struggle to decide on their next moves, or rather if they care enough to even make them, as the other players depart. Ozzie scratches the back of his head like an ape, apathetic to his arm finally bursting free from its sleeve and exposing a hairy pit that Alex eyes hungrily. 

Drooling and wanting to be done with the game as soon as possible the once jock eyes his hand filled with spells and wonders why he has so many? Was there a reason he wasn’t using them? He hesitantly throws one down and is immediately met by a counter. Ozzie grunts as his form bulges larger, brow jutting slightly over blue eyes that don’t quite look so bright any more. He tears off his shirt with one meaty fist before moving to scratch at the carpet of hair covering his torso as if it were a shirt itself.

Ozzie’s own eyes glaze over as he drops his cards on the table, he want game over. His underwear is filled to breaking and he grimaces before going to tear them off just like his shirt. Grunting he punches the table in shock as the elastic band snaps back against him. Veins bulge everywhere across his form as rage fills him enough to rival his hunger for the twink sitting across from him. Struggling to control his breathing as he sits stewing in lust and anger he speaks in a gravely town as his stomach begins to bloat, “Your turn,”

Alex similarly is lacking the focus to continue the game, tossing his hand down his eyes flash as the remaining tokens stack onto Ozzie’s card. Neither man notices as a final line of text appears at the end of the dense paragraph, “If you lack a copy of Ogg the Brawn in your deck, become one.” He doesn’t read the card of course, nor will he chase the urge to read much of anything anymore, but as the ability is activated OzzOgg obeys the instructions to a tee.

Spit drips between gnashing teeth as Ogg stands to his new height. Waist filling out as he pounds onto the table and he grows into a true brute. The elastic band digging into his waist acts like a flank belt as he glowers at Alex and bucks into the table, making a mess of the organized decks as he feels his mind unable to focus on any pursuit other than chasing his hunger.

Alex stands and his pants fall to the floor, unable to remain on his thinned waist, “O-Ogg?” he squeaks out, what was was a tight muscle tee now hangs off a shoulder, perfectly framing a hard nipple and hiding the noticeably smaller bulge where his dick must be. Ogg knocks the table over and tackles the twink with power he never imagined or desired to have. 

Grunting, Ogg can’t control his hips as they continue to rock and thrust as he struggles to position his twitching cock over Alex who endeavors to roll over and present his perky ass. Ogg forces his face down into the nape of Alex’s neck, breathing in his scent, magically alluring and the diametric opposed to the bestial musk that steams off the man whose eyes dull to a dark brown as his stomach bulges into a massive muscle gut.

Underneath, the twink’s mental faculties grow similarly vacant as he feels the hairy stomach scratching against his back, as Ogg’s massive cock finds purchase and fills him with far more powerful pleasure than what Alex has inflicted on many a partner throughout the years. His moans fill the air, rivalling Ogg’s grunts as the pair leave sweat and cum stains on the cold tile. 

The air of the apartment is filled with Ogg’s primal, almost proto-human musk which only makes Alex hungrier for the man he is evermore to be obsessed with. When his face is shoved into Ogg’s jungle of pit hair he wonders how he lived before now as his cock is pressed up against Ogg’s bulky, curl-covered torso.

Eventually their preternatural lusts absolve themselves and in a brief refractory period Alex rushes to clean up the worst of their mess before the other two return with pizza. Ogg of course is no help as he throws on a pair of boxers Alex would’ve sworn were his own and goes to sit on the couch, arm behind his head to air out his steaming pit and continue to rile Alex up. After righting the table and wiping away all the stains he could see the twink indeed goes to nestle up alongside the man on the couch as he throws on some nature documentary.

Alex doesn’t notice as his head finds itself almost immediately in the man’s crotch as his cock starts to poke out the leg of his boxers. Well, when in Rome- Before they can get up to too much fun, they hear the door being jostled. Alex jolts up and swallows the pool of pre-cum filling his mouth before doing a poor job of hiding the rock hard rod in Ogg’s boxers. The brute grunts in irritation and grasps at his needy balls, apathetic to the return of the other platers.

Setting down the pizzas Tim looks over at the clearly worked up pair and rolls his eyes as if this is normal, “Well are you two horndogs up for another game?” Eying both Alex and Tim something besides the Id in Ogg rears up, still seems like there’s a lot left he can drain from the two men. Bulge already inching larger, he stands and goes to pick up Loggan from the floor. Time for round two-

[portraitsofguilt]

SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN jinx au/powder

content warnings.          18+ MDNI, suggestive/angsty content, gn! reader, hinted jock/masc reader, use of y/n (once), mentions of vi/caitlyn/caitvi, making out, kissing, seven minutes in heaven game | wc: 1,05k

author's note.   so if you ever saw grey’s anatomy and the part where derek tells mark to not touch lexie? yeah that mixed with 7 minutes in heaven because I’m in a mood lmao- hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

lose yourself sometimes…

that’s what vi always told her shortly before the incident. powder knew she meant well, that she wanted powder to be a little more reckless, a little bit freer than she was when vi started going to the academy, that she wanted her sister to make some mistakes and not regret them. that’s why she accepted the invitation to a party that was just before the first day of academy.

“powder and… y/n!” claggor said before taking another sip of his red cup. powder looked up from the bottle, eyes locking on your form as you down your drink and jump up after a couple of back pats from a friend.

you were an old friend of vi’s, started at the academy at the same year and the two of you went to the same gym and sports team all of your years up until… before everything happened, vi had you over more than a couple of times and powder has stared at you from her window more times than she wanted to admit, watching as her sister and you did your silly games and competitions. but how couldn’t she? you noticed her in ways no one did, she wasn’t just vi’s sister to you, she was powder every time you talked or mentioned her.

…and don’t miss out on the things I did.

the closet wasn’t a piece of furniture, it was a walk-in closet, the small room’s wall filled with expensive shoes and dresses that probably belonged to your friend’s mother.

“it’s rude to stare you know…” you trailed off, looking over your shoulder to find free space so you can lean against the wall. powder’s cheeks heat up, burying her face in her shoulder but still trying to steal some glances towards your way. your shirt was a lower cut than usual, your black jeans much tighter, perfectly capturing the curves and toning of your body.

“I never knew you noticed- you could have mentioned if it was making you uncomfortable!” powder muttered, sort of teasingly, taking a step to the other side of the closet. embarrassment washed over her face and how unfortunate that this room was so small there was no way you didn’t see her blush.

you chuckled, reaching out to take her hand and pulling her closer to you. “why are you nervous, powder? it’s just me,” you smiled, interviewing your fingers. you did this time to time, powder told you that it was calming, that the slight warmth of your hand and the smell of your smell.

“I’m nervous ‘cuz it’s you…” powder knew you would force her into anything, and maybe that’s why she was so nervous, because you weren’t. because that meant she has to be the one starting, starting something, she has never done too many times for herself.

‘and I’m nervous about missing out on you…’

so, powder did, leaning in to meet your lips and she was ready to for you to push her off, yell at her for what she was thinking. but the hand on her cheek wasn’t pushing her away, it kept still like it was afraid to move, a tad shaky-

was it because you were pitying her, that you didn’t want to hurt her feelings? and if not, was it okay to be asking for so much from you, it should be alright for you to let her, right? stupid powder… she’s already swept away by desire. the way her lips open when your tongue pushes against them, the way her body flushes against your and both of you tumble in the pile of clothes on the ground, powder falling into your lap.

she follows your lead, letting your tongue dominate her, letting her free hand grab the back of your neck to hold you close. she did her best trying to keep herself up and steady, moving her hand to your shoulder. powder was shivering from excitement, goosebumps exploding on her body every time you brushed your thumb against her cheek, deepening the kiss with little dips.

“more…” she whimpered, unlacing your hands, and moving it up your arms, bunching the fabric of your shirt between her weak fingers. your lips pressed into her neck, hand skillfully slipping to her chin, holding her so you could turn and move her as you pleased. your other hand tugging her shirt out of her pants, slipping a couple of fingers under the cloth and moving them up her side.

she knew what was coming and she couldn’t be more excited, maybe it was the alcohol that got her all excited beside you, maybe it was just that you have finally giving her what she has been waiting for. your out most and undivided attention, only seeing her, thinking about her, and wanting her.

“I think the seven minutes are up.” you murmured into the crook of her neck, placing on last kiss on her delicate skin before pulling away, patting the sides of her thigh to rush her movements, “I don’t… vi wouldn’t…” your voice falters as you help her up, assisting her fixing her shirt and hair. you pushed the door open, taking one last glance over your shoulder.

it felt like a lifetime ago, your promise to vi, to never to touch her sister but to help her find herself in this confusing world and to never let her lose out on things like she did on the girl she met at the academy. caitlyn was her name? you still see her around campus, but she is… not herself anymore.

“my promise to her? I think I just went against it…”

[gracie-eilish]

soft kissing hour

summary: billie comes home in the middle of the night (softly) interrupting your peaceful snooze☁️✨

an: i think i’m liking writing soft/fluffy fics more than spicy or smut but who knows! this is only the beginning lol!

an: i’m in love with this song. it’s perfect. no one can tell me otherwise.

just the feeling of seeing your home in front of her brought an overwhelming sense of peace to billie. she had been on the road for weeks now and couldn’t wait to spend some time off. seeing friends, family, and most importantly, you.

she carefully grabbed her suitcase out of the trunk, locking the car up before heading inside. naturally, her beloved (not so small) puppies greeted her right at the door with kisses, having missed their mama.

“hi guys!” she whispered, giggling in between puppy kisses, “i missed you too.” she peppered both with kisses of their own before standing back up.

“where’s mama?” she asked as the puppies looked up at her with wide eyes before scampering down the hall towards the stairs.

she grabbed her bag and followed the pups, now wagging their tails and running up the stairs. she chuckled softly as they stopped in front of your shared bedroom door, looking at her with pride as if to say “we did it! we found mama!”

billie softly pushed the door open, finding the most peaceful scene. the balcony doors were open a bit letting the ocean air waft in, the sounds of the waves making everything feel dreamy. the little sunset lamp on the dresser casting a soft pink hue across the room, you’d always hated the bright white light of the overhead lamp. but finally, there was you.

tucked under a mountain of blankets, you were fast asleep cuddled up in one of billie hoodies, naturally. you had always been a pretty sleeper, something billie was jokingly envious of. you could fall asleep anywhere and look perfect.

she set her suitcase down by the door and slid off her black boots, before making her way over to the bed. she perched herself on the edge, not wanting to wake you just yet. some may find it creepy but she loved admiring you while you slept. you were so peaceful that she couldn’t help it. the way your hair cascaded over your shoulder and the pillow, you long lashes fluttering over your cheeks, the teensy hidden freckles on the top of your cheeks- only someone looking close could find them. she even chuckled softly at the teardrop marks on you pillowcase. your eyes watered when you yawned making your pillows look like you cried all night. a trait billie had to get used to, reminding herself you weren’t crying, just sleepy. your nose was twinged pink from the january air wafting through the door.

billie softly pushed some hair behind your ear before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your cheeks. she pulled away after a second, noticing a familiar smell. you’d always been partial to eilish no. 1, her first fragrance. the vanilla and chocolate blend suiting you perfectly. but billie smelt something different today. there was no hint of vanilla or even one of your floral perfumes you sometimes sprayed on during the day. you smelled like.. well.. billie. maybe it was billie’s hoodie cradling your body under the sheets, maybe not. billie smiled softly at the realization.

she gave you another kiss on your forehead before she retreated to the connected bathroom, needing to wash off the airport feel.

☁️🌌💤✨

you woke softly to the sound of the running shower and the padding of billie moving around in there. a soft smile broke out on your face as the water shut off signaling billie would be done soon. as she dried off she was humming a soft tune, nothing specific, just a soft rhythm strung together bouncing off the tile, sounding echoey and angelic and regardless.

the door opening caught your attention again, the bright light of the bathroom quickly disappearing as billie shut it back off. noticing you were awake now, she softly made her way to your bed.

“hi love bug” she whispered, peppering kisses to your cheeks again, making you giggle a bit.

“you’re home!” you mumbled sleepily but happy.

“yeah baby, i’m home” she sighed happily, holding your cheek.

“c’mere. i missed you” you whined, grabbing at her hands to pull her into your bed.

the second she flopped onto her side of the bed she couldn’t resist, pulling you in by your waist and finally kissing you. so softly but so passionately, as if to say, “i don’t want to disturb your peace, but i just want to say i love you.”

the two of you giggled in between kisses, just happy to be together again after so long.

as billie pulled away she chuckled, “you taste like peppermint.”

you feigned offense shooting back, “just because christmas is over doesn’t mean peppermint is. in fact peppermint everything is 50% at the store babe so get used to it.” billie just laughed and kissed you again, adoring your little antics.

“this really is just your world that i’m living in isn’t it?” she replied, raising her eyebrows and propping herself up on one elbow. you just nodded cheekily knowing you had billie wrapped around your finger.

she glanced over at the little clock on your nightstand, a bright blue 1:58 blinking back at her. she leaned in to kiss your forehead before whispering, “alright, go back to sleep my love. i’ll be here when you wake up.”

you just nuzzled yourself further into her arms before mumbling a fake groan, “okay. i love you.” and pressing a kiss to her collarbone.

she kissed your cheek before whispering, “i love you. i’m not going anywhere. don’t worry. i’m right here.”

with sleepy smiles and overflowing hearts, the two of you tangled yourselves together, falling asleep in each others arms with the ocean waves and puppies snoring as your soundtrack… and billie humming that silly little tune again before drifting off herself:)

💤☁️🫧

an: i feel like this is kinda similar to my “softness” post but what can i say, im a sucker for soft billie. i hope you like it!! (i hope my easter eggs weren’t hidden too far👀 im trained by miss swift herself on easter eggs so keep your eyes peeled for potentially more easter eggs in stories to come:)

also ik her dogs are far from puppies, i just call all dogs puppies because that’s what they are in my eyes!🐶🥹

and thanks for the followers!🥹 that’s like so sweet of you! anyways, love you so much!! sweet dreams babies☁️❤️

[swappermanent]

Freckles (Part 3 - Grandpa's POV)

Life has changed a lot for me in the past nine months. You don’t realize just how much you miss about being young until you’ve got it back. I thought I had a good handle on things, swapping into Dylan every summer like clockwork. A week here, a week there—it was enough to scratch the itch, to remind me of what it felt like to have a strong back, quick reflexes, and boundless energy. But let me tell you, living in a young body for this long? It’s different. Night and day.

Kai—no, Theo now—was right. I’ll admit it. I was reluctant when he first said it to me, standing there in that smug stance of his, shirtless as always, grinning like he had the world figured out. “You clearly get a kick out of being in Dylan’s body,” he said, his tone dripping with knowing amusement. And damn if he didn’t have a point.

I hesitated back then, but looking at me now? I owe Theo a massive thank-you. Staying in Dylan’s body for longer than a week was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. For one thing, there’s a kind of freedom that comes with being young and I’ve been taking full advantage of it.

I live in Berlin now. Thanks to my little caveat—"Feel free to alter your body in any way you see fit during the year"—it was totally in bounds to do something like this. A new life, a fresh start. Berlin seemed like the obvious choice. The city practically begs you to reinvent yourself, to explore every side of who you are, no matter how deeply it’s been buried.

The real Dylan wasn’t thrilled about the move, but what could he do? We all already had Irish passports anyway, so it wasn’t like there were any logistical hurdles. He’ll get over it, I’m sure. Honestly, though, I think he’s secretly jealous.

Besides, this is the perfect place to explore my sexuality. Everyone here is so open—no judgment, no shame. I’ve had sex in all the clubs, even in the middle of Tempelhof Feld. Men, women—it doesn’t matter. And let me tell you, everyone wants my hog and body, which is in peak form.

But the best night I’ve had was one where I wasn’t taking the active role in the encounter.. I’d been getting into leather lately, exploring the scene and one night, I found myself at a warehouse party. Dim red lights, pounding music, the smell of sweat and leather mingling in the air. I was dressed for the occasion—harness, boots, nothing else.

That’s where I met them. A Swedish guy, tall and broad-shouldered, with blond hair and piercing eyes that pinned me in place. And a Bulgarian guy, muscular, his dark eyes smoldering with a confidence that left no room for argument. They didn’t ask; they just knew I would take it.

And I did.

They worked together like a symphony, positioning me between them with practiced ease. The Bulgarian was the first to push inside, his cock thick and unrelenting. I gasped, clutching at his shoulders as he filled me, stretching me in a way that felt like too much and just enough all at once. And then, the Swedish guy. His cock pressed against me, slick and insistent, until he slid in beside the first, my body opening up to take them both.

I’d never felt anything like it—the fullness, the weight of them moving in tandem, their rhythm so perfectly in sync it felt orchestrated. One of them reached around to stroke my cock, his grip firm and knowing, while the other’s hand moved to my chest, teasing my nipples until I was trembling. The pleasure was overwhelming, building in waves that crashed over me again and again, each one higher than the last.

When I finally came, it was like the entire world blurred out of existence. My cock pulsed in the Swedish guy’s hand, the orgasm tearing through me with a force that left me breathless. My legs nearly gave out, but they held me steady, their movements never faltering as they milked every last drop of pleasure from my body. By the time they finished, I was spent, my skin slick with sweat, my heart pounding like I’d run a marathon.

That night changed something in me. It wasn’t just the sex—it was the surrender, the freedom of letting go completely. Afterward, they helped me clean up, their touches surprisingly gentle, and we shared drinks at the bar, laughing and swapping stories like old friends.

And now? Well I think I’m officially a Berliner.

[juniperskye]

You’re Not Alone In This.

Based on the following ask: @itzvenus04 Hotch is my comfort character, maybe it’s because he takes care of others and I like that especially when I take care of people all the time, I’m like Cinderella in my house like no joke, if I don’t do it, nobody will ever do it. Anyway, I was wondering if you could do like an Aaron x Diabetic reader fic, as I have diabetes and it’s extremely difficult and exhausting and love to maybe see that with a comfort character of mine. Like Aaron does anything and everything he can to understand the reader and the illness, like when the reader sugar is high or maybe low, taking care of doctor’s appointments, medication drop off, just putting effort in I just want to read something that could comfort me in that way because it’s exhausting being a diabetic and having no one bother to care about it or put effort in, I’m alone essentially - I really hope you like this babe! I did my best!

Aaron Hotchner x Diabetic! Fem Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 1709

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, some explicit language, reader has type 1 diabetes, mention of doctors and appointments, mention of medication/insulin management, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description – other than being a diabetic and having an insulin pump (worn tucked into their waistband or pocket) and an administration site located on their leg (there is mention of a site failure and relocation) as well as a sensor worn on the arm, reader is mentioned to work as well as being active in college courses (not full time), Hotch cares a lot, use of pet names, I think that’s everything – let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

You were the type of person who couldn’t bear the thought of burdening others. As exhausting as it was, constantly doing things on your own and taking care of others, you did so without complaint because things needed to get done. It would be much easier to just do them as opposed to putting it on someone else, or worse, adding weight to their shoulders.

This growing sense of solitude grew when you began dating Aaron. It wasn’t that he made you feel alone, actually it was quite the opposite! Aaron was always reassuring you that he was by your side through it all, especially as your relationship progressed. But as things intensified, you couldn’t help but notice the sag in his shoulders, bags under his eyes, and the air of weariness he exuded. Aaron had an extremely difficult job, one that had taken far too much from him, so who were you to make his life any more difficult than it already was.

You did everything in your power to hide things from Aaron – just to keep from filling his plate with anymore worry. You would suffer in silence through the highs and lows of your mental health, the business from working full time and taking classes at the local college…and even more so, your physical health.

You had kept the fact that you had type one diabetes a secret from Aaron…not because you were embarrassed or because you didn’t trust him, it was simply because you knew he’d make it his mission to ensure that you were taken care of, ahead of everything else.

But that was the problem with dating a profiler. Aaron could see through the façade that were your replies of “things are good!” “I’m great.” “Classes are going well.” “I feel fine, just a little tired.” Aaron knew that there was something deeper, looming under the surface, something you weren’t telling him. So, two months into dating you’d had to come clean.

“Sweetheart, I know something is wrong. I just wish you’d tell me so I can help you.” He’d beg.

“Aaron everything is fine I pro-”

“Please don’t say everything is fine…honey, you were basically lethargic the other day when we facetimed, and I was so worried about you.”

“I’m diabetic Aaron. That’s what was wrong. My sugar was low. But everything is fine.” You explained.

After that, Aaron made sure to keep a closer eye on you. Not so much that you’d feel suffocated or like he was babying you, but enough that he could tell if your sugar was too high or too low. Once Aaron found out you had type one diabetes, he dove into late night research sessions on what all your condition entails, how to best manage your insulin, what an appropriate level looks like, how to calculate your carb intake so the proper amount of insulin is being administered as well as how to change your site and how to use the pump.

The change in his behavior was subtle…but noticeable. Aaron started keeping small snacks or juice with him in the case of a sugar low, he also started checking in on you more frequently. When you moved in, the changes became far more obvious, Aaron was doing so much around the house – always doing the dishes, taking the trash out with him on his way to work, doing laundry on the weekends, setting up deliveries for your groceries. It was overwhelming to have someone this attentive.

“Aaron, I can do this!” You giggled as his arms snuck around you, pulling the vacuum from your grasp.

“I know you can sweetheart, but you don’t have to. I will.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, encouraging you to go sit.

His overprotective nature didn’t surface until he witnessed a pretty intense low.

The morning had started off normal, you’d skipped out on breakfast, which wasn’t unusual. You’d completed an assignment for school and taken your dog on a walk when you started to feel off. It had been a little bit warm outside, but with the way you were sweating, you knew that wasn’t it.

You managed to get back home, but not without feeling lightheaded. You reached down to unclip the dog’s leash, and that’s when Aaron caught it, your hands were shaking, so much so that you were struggling to open the clasp.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

“I uh, I feel a little…” You pressed the back of your hand to your forehead and with the other, steadied yourself on the entry table. “Can you – would you grab me some…some juice?”

“Yeah, honey why don’t you sit down.” Aaron quickly went to the kitchen and poured a glass of juice.

Aaron watched you insistently as you sipped the juice. He reached over to check your phone, to see if your numbers were starting to regulate. Taking note of the number beginning to rise, he sat next to you and rubbed soothing circles on your spine.

“Honey, did you eat breakfast this morning?” Aaron inquired.

“No, but I never eat breakfast Aar. When I do, my numbers usually end up to high and then I feel sick all day.” You huffed.

“Okay, we will figure it out. Maybe we should schedule an appointment with your doctor.” He suggested.

“It’s always been like this, it’s okay really.”

“I’ll schedule an appointment for you sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to your temple.

Aaron was far more attentive with your illness, going with you to your doctor’s appointments, asking them how to avoid highs and lows, figuring out the best way to manage your insulin. He also began to monitor your medication, making sure you never ran out and that the pharmacy was processing your refills, when they got low.

This day was not going the way you had hoped. Things had been super overwhelming, you had finals coming up for your classes and work had been particularly busy, truthfully you were exhausted. You’d been nauseas all day, your numbers elevated, despite your best efforts to lower them.

You had taken a break from studying to change the laundry when you heard Aaron get home.

“Hey baby!” Aaron pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Hi hon.” You mumbled.

Aaron knew you had been stressed out about school and work, you had put your finals dates on your shared calendar, and he figured that was taking its toll on you.

“Why don’t I make us some dinner? I can grill up some chicken?” He posed.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I can steam some broccoli to go with it.” You suggested.

“Perfect!” Aaron left you with a peck.

You’d finished up with the laundry and went to the kitchen, pulling out a water bottle from the fridge while you got started prepping the veggies.

Aaron glanced at you through the sliding door, he had noticed there were quite a few water bottles and cups scattered around the apartment, more than usual. He couldn’t help the bit of concern that crept in – you’d previously mentioned sugar highs sometimes came with unbearable thirst.

“Sweetheart, have you checked your number recently?” He asked.

“Yes, it’s been a little elevated today.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, a little nauseous but I’m fine.”

The two of you sat and ate dinner while talking about your days. You told Aaron about a new project at work and how you were more than ready for your finals to be over. He shared that he had consulted on a few cases today with some law enforcement from other states – hopefully they wouldn’t get called away this weekend.

After dinner you’d excused yourself to the restroom and Aaron cleared up the table, placing the leftovers in the fridge. He made his way to your shared bedroom and softly knocked on the bathroom door.

“Baby, is everything okay?”

“Aar, I’m fine.” You sighed.

“Would you let me in? Maybe I can help.” He offered.

“I don’t need help – Shit!” You hissed.

With that Aaron let himself in the bathroom, worried that you were hurt.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think there’s something wrong with my site.” You were fiddling with the site attached to your leg.

“Honey, why don’t we change it out, I can help.” Aaron moved to grab everything you’d need for your new site. “Is your sensor good still?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, go lay on the bed.” He commanded gently.

You went to lay on the bed, sliding your sweats off, carefully moving your pump to lay beside you on the bed. Aaron made his way over to you with the new injection set. He assisted you in removing the old one and placing the new one, taking note of the needle being bent slightly.

“Sweetheart, I think this is why you’ve been high all day. Your insulin wasn’t injecting properly.”

“Ugh. Stupid thing! Let’s just put in the new one so I can get this all sorted out.” You stressed.

You had tears in your eyes. Not from the pain of the needle entering your skin, or the sick feeling you’ve endured all day…but from the fact that you don’t get to have a normal day that’s carefree. Aaron has taken so much off your plate by being especially helpful with day-to-day things, but this feels like too much and you feel so alone in your illness.

“Alright honey, you’re all set.” Aaron began cleaning up all the trash from the new injection set.

“Thank you.”

“Hey sweetheart…” Aaron began. “I know that I will never be able to fully understand, but I want you to know that I’m here for you. I want to help you in anyway I can, whether it’s changing your site for you, doing the dishes after a long day, or even just to give you a hug.”

Your tears were falling freely at his confession. You had never felt so seen, so weightless, so supported. You let your head fall back and your shoulders finally relaxed.

 “I love you so much. You have no idea how much that means to me Aaron.” You wrapped your arms around his middle.

“I love you too sweet girl.” Aarons arms enveloped you as his lips connect with your forehead.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 21 - 'Suffocated’ | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.2 k

Trent staggered into his home, the quiet darkness wrapping around him like a suffocating blanket. Every step he took was heavy, weighed down by the events of the night. His house keys clattered onto the counter, the sharp sound echoing through the stillness, but it barely registered. His head was spinning—not just from the alcohol but from the chaos, the betrayal, and the sheer weight of the situation. He ran a hand down his face, dragging it over his mouth, trying to steady his breathing. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t get enough air. Images of you in the club flashed in his mind: your tear-streaked face, your trembling hands as you tried to hold yourself together, and the look in your eyes when he barely even began to tell you those horrible, false words. He felt sick to his stomach. He walked into his bedroom, his movements jerky, his anger bubbling just beneath the surface. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he paced, his thoughts racing. The memory of Josh’s smug grin haunted him, the way he’d dangled that video like a loaded gun. And Jess—how could she do this? How could she lie and hurt you, of all people? Trent stopped in the middle of the room, his breaths coming fast and shallow. The emotions he’d been holding back all night—the rage, the guilt, the heartbreak—surged forward, overwhelming him. Without thinking, he let out a guttural scream, the sound raw and primal, and drove his fist into the nearest wall. The drywall cracked under the force of his punch, a jagged hole splintering outward from the impact. The pain shot up his arm, sharp and immediate, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as the ache in his chest. He stared at the broken wall, his knuckles throbbing and speckled with dust. The anger left him as quickly as it had come, replaced by a tidal wave of despair. His shoulders slumped, and he sank to the floor, his back pressed against the wall. He rested his elbows on his knees, his hands clutching his hair as he fought to keep his emotions at bay. But it was no use. The first tear slipped down his cheek, and then another, and before he knew it, he was sobbing. Trent couldn’t remember the last time he cried—it had been years, maybe even a decade. But now, alone in his empty house, the weight of everything was too much to bear. He cried for you, for the way he’d hurt you, for the lies he’d told, and for the love he’d destroyed.

His mind replayed every moment of the night in vivid detail: the way you looked at him, the way Jack had nearly torn him apart, the way Josh had so effortlessly unraveled his life. And through it all, one thought kept repeating in his head: he’d failed you.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. The words echoed in the empty room, hollow and meaningless. “I’m so sorry.” He buried his face in his hands, his tears soaking into his palms. The silence of the room pressed in on him, broken only by his ragged breaths and the occasional hitch of his sobs. He was all alone. He didn’t know how long he sat there, crumpled on the floor, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Time felt meaningless. Eventually, the tears slowed, leaving him feeling empty and drained. He leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling with red, puffy eyes. His knuckles throbbed, and his chest ached, but nothing hurt as much as the realization that he might have lost you for good. He stayed there, slumped on the floor, the broken wall beside him a physical reminder of the damage he’d done. And as the night stretched on, one thought consumed him: how could he ever go on without you. You’d been there his entire life. You were in every memory, every high, every low, you were everywhere. You saturated every moment of his and dug your heels so deep into his heart, he had barely even noticed you’d pierced straight through it. He felt like his heart was about to flatline, give out entirely without you there, leaving behind the gaping hole you’d cut that nothing, no one, and no amount of time could heal. He was bleeding out for you.  

Jack leaned back on the sofa, his hands running over his face as he tried to make sense of it all. The room was dimly lit, the silence between him and Noah broken only by their low voices.

“Jess said she didn’t hook up with him,” Jack started, his voice heavy with frustration, “but what I don’t get is why he didn’t fight back, you know, bro? Why didn’t he clear it up if that’s the case? He just left.” Jack looked for answers Noah didn’t have. Noah exhaled deeply, his gaze fixed on a point across the room. 

“Mate, can I be honest?” Noah asked haphazardly. Jack nodded looking for anyone he trusted’s input because sadly, at the minute, his usual confidants were the very culprits of the problem at hand. “Bro, something doesn’t sit right with me. I know you’re pissed and that’s valid. No one wants Y/N hurt and upset but something’s off. That’s not Trenty. He put in a proper hard shift in to get her to be his girlfriend. He made too many waves just trying to even get with Y/N in the first place. This…fuck, the whole thing… this doesn’t make sense.” Noah explained just as discombobulated but equally in search of clarity yet with a bit more hope in Trent’s character. Jack nodded again slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, reluctantly agreeing. 

“A part of me feels like he must’ve, though… you know? I feel like because so many people were upset, Jess now was just trying to cover for him. And she said she likes him.” His voice grew quieter as he recalled Jess’s confession. “There had to have been more there. There must’ve been an overlap or something. There has to be.” Jack spoke his thoughts aloud. He didn’t want to believe it but there was to big of a mess left behind for it to be nothing.  Noah turned to him, his expression incredulous. 

“She likes him?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t really believe that. That’s ridiculous. She doesn’t know him, mate. They might’ve hooked up a few times, but that’s it and it was ages ago. And to that point, he’d kick her out right after. She doesn’t even know the lad. Not really. Maybe his salary but not him as a person.” Noah looked at Jack for a moment, hoping he would be getting on his page. Jack was quiet for a moment, letting Noah’s words sink in. He was right, Jess didn’t know Trent and she definitely didn’t know him like you did. Would Trent sacrifice it all for someone he barely knew?

“You think it’s made up, then?” Jack asked, unsure of his own opinion anymore. 

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t add up. Not with Trenty. We know end of the day he’s a good lad, even when he’s a bit of a knob sometimes. But with Y/N… he’s the best lad. If he was hitting Jess, he wouldn’t have ever started things with your sister like this. And… I don’t mean to make it awkward for you but didn’t we all know they’d get together? They are end game, bro.” Noah looked at Jack pleadingly. He couldn’t believe their best mate would do this. He was making a case for Trent he wasn’t even sure was true but he’d try because he believed in him. “Mate, he’s been in love with her for years. Y/N and him are like proper in love. They say it to each other, she’s sleeping at his house, he takes care of her. Always has. It doesn’t make sense…. He loves her in a way I can hardly even understand, you know that too.” Noah sheepishly continued on knowing the very idea of this relationship had been hard for Jack to stomach, let alone its demise. Jack sighed heavily, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

“I… I.. guess.” Jack muttered knowing that all the points Noah made were valid but they didn’t wash away the other things that had happened, had been said. “Yeah, but the thing is Megan…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “She said she knew about Trent and my sister. Said nothing about Jess. But if she knew about them, why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” He asked openly still not completely over your relationship with Trent in its entirety, especially now that it was up in flames with no sight of being extinguished. Noah shrugged. 

“Maybe she thought it wasn’t her place. Or maybe she was trying to protect Y/N, knowing you’d lose your head about it.” Noah smirked sympathetically. Jack shook his head, staring at the floor. 

“I gotta talk to Meg. I gotta apologize. I was too harsh with her, it wasn’t right.” Jack muttered mostly to himself. He felt so guilty. She was just caught in the crossfire but that didn’t make any of it okay. 

“You should,” Noah agreed. “But what about Trenty?” He asked expectedly. Jack’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. 

“I’m not ready for that yet. Y/N’s a mess, mate. She’s broken. He fucked up regardless of what the truth is.” Noah nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this whole situation was more complicated than it seemed. He knew Trent, really knew him, Jack did too but he was too close. This didn’t sit right with Noah. 

“I hear ya, Jack,” Noah said, standing up. “But I need to talk to Trent. I need to hear his side properly. I’m not settling until I know the whole truth.” He explained, gently but surely. Jack looked up at Noah, his expression torn. He didn’t trust Trent right now, but a part of him wanted answers too.

 “Yeah, fine,” he muttered, standing up as well.  “But if he tries to play you, or if he’s not straight with you…” Jack threatened, not really with any venom but more so with exhaustion. He was just so frustrated at how messy things had gotten. 

“I’ll handle it,” Noah assured him. “You’ve got my word. I really don’t want to lose movie nights.” Noah smirked cheekily. It was just Noah’s backwards way of being sincere. He wanted to help. Jack nodded hoping he could assist because he didn’t want to lose movie nights either and least of all his friendship with Trent.

A day had passed, and the silence was deafening. Trent sat on the edge of his bed, his phone clutched in his hand, staring at the endless stream of unanswered messages and missed calls he’d sent to Jack. He hadn’t dared to try you—not yet. Every time he hovered over your name, his thumb froze, his mind spiraling into doubt. What could he even say? That he’d been blackmailed? That Jess had lied? Would you believe him, or would it just sound like another excuse? The thought of you, hurt and angry, twisted his stomach into knots. He scrubbed a hand down his face and hit redial on Jack’s number, fully expecting to hear the voicemail tone again. But this time, it didn’t come. A click on the other end was followed by a sharp voice.

“What do you want bro?” Jack answered, his hostility cutting through the silence like a knife. Trent’s heart raced.

“Jack. I need to see you,” he said quickly, the words spilling out before Jack could hang up. “I need to explain.” When Jack heard the words all he could think of was your face. The way you’d been sobbing for hours inconsolably. His anger wasn’t something he could push down. He was mad at Trent, no matter the circumstance. 

“What’s there to explain, mate,” Jack snapped. “You’re not coming near my fucking house or my sister. Do you understand me?” He threatened his best friend of years, now sounding like a stranger he hated. If Noah wanted to dig for unsurfaced truths he could, but to Jack the only thing that mattered was that you were hurting and nothing would fix that. 

“Then come to me,” Trent pleaded, his voice cracking. “Please, Jack. You have to hear me out.” He took a shaky breath, his desperation slipping through. “You need to understand.” Jack paused on the other end, the silence tense. 

“Understand what?” he bit out. “That you cheated on her? That you fucked her over? That you lied to all of us? Again…” His voice grew louder, each accusation hitting Trent like a blow.

“I didn’t—” Trent started, but his voice broke, and he stopped to compose himself. “It’s not what you think. Please, Jack,” he whispered, his voice thick. He sniffled audibly, and Jack froze. Was he crying? Jack sighed heavily, his anger faltering for just a moment. Something about Trent’s tone—it wasn’t defensive or self-righteous. It was broken. And that shook him. Maybe what Jess had admitted was true. That this whole sequence of events wasn’t entirely clear cut and true. Maybe there was more to this mess than he’d thought. Maybe he should follow Noah’s lead and look beneath the surface. 

“Where?” Jack finally said, his voice gruff but less hostile. Trent exhaled in relief, his grip on the phone tightening. 

“My place, I don’t care, anywhere, mate,” he said quickly. “Whenever you can. Please.” Jack didn’t respond immediately. 

“Fine,” he said eventually. “But if I don’t like what I hear, it’s done. Yeah?” He cautioned Trent.

“Yeah,” Trent whispered, his voice small. “I got it.” Jack hung up without another word, and Trent sat there, staring at his phone, his chest tight. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. It was a chance. And right now, that was all he could hope for. 

It was a days time between that phone call until Jack entered the room, the air felt heavy, oppressive, as though it carried the weight of all the chaos and heartbreak from the past few days. Trent sat on the edge of the couch, his shoulders hunched, his hands nervously clasped between his knees. His eyes were fixed on the floor, unable to meet Jack’s piercing glare. Noah stood to the side, shifting awkwardly, clearly caught in the crossfire of tension, ready to be a mediator. 

“Hey…” Noah started, his voice uncertain, as if testing the waters.

“Yo…” Jack replied curtly, stepping further into the room. His gaze flicked to Trent, sharp and calculating, before landing back on Noah. He didn’t sit, his posture stiff and unyielding.

“So… erm…” Noah began again, scratching the back of his neck. “I just thought maybe I should be here because I care too, you know…. And I just had to hear Trenty’s side. I told you, it didn’t sit right with me, mate. None of it made sense.” Noah babbled a little nervously for how things were going to go. Jack’s jaw tightened, but to everyone’s surprise, he nodded. 

“I know,” he said simply, his voice low. Both Noah and Trent froze, their eyes snapping to Jack. Trent, who had been bracing for an onslaught, felt his breath catch. Jack’s answer wasn’t what he had expected. Not at all.

“What?” Trent finally managed, his voice hoarse.

“What?” Noah echoed, his confusion mirroring Trent’s. Jack sighed, dragging a hand down his face. 

“I said, I know. I know something’s off. Jess was lying. Megan’s been going on about how things don’t add up, Noah too, and honestly, I’ve been thinking about it more now too.” He explained with a deep exhale. Trent blinked, stunned. He hadn’t allowed himself to hope for this—to think Jack would give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Mate, I—” Trent tried to speak. Jack held up a hand, silencing him. 

“I didn’t come here to forgive you, alright? I came here to figure out what the hell is going on. Because if you’ve actually hurt her like this, Trent, I swear to God, I’ll make sure you never come near her again.” He threatened but Jack was tired of threats, he just wanted answers. Trent nodded quickly, his throat tight.  Noah was trying to remain impartial, he understood Jack’s anger but he was praying Trent had an answer. Too much time had gone by without one and his faith in Trent was starting to waiver.

“Trent, you’ve gotta just tell us straight… What happened, bro? Did you…” Noah awkwardly pished for some truth, some clarity to lower the temperature of the room that was rapidly rising.  

“I swear on my fucking life. I didn’t do what I said that night. I… I… I love her. I did it for her you have to fucking believe me.” Trent whimpered. He looked like a sad puppy. Jack and Noah had never seen him so weak. There wasn’t an ounce of the confidence that was usually oozing from his pores. He looked broken. 

“So…” Noah probed confused but desperate for Trent to have an answer for it all.  

“I didn’t, do it. I swear. None of it—none of what was said—is true. I’ve been trying to figure out how to fix this without making things worse, but it’s all so fucked up.” His voice cracked, and he rubbed at his eyes, trying to compose himself.

“Alright, then try to explain,” Jack said, crossing his arms. “Because as far as I know, it sounds as if Jess and you have been fucking and since it came out, now you and her are trying to protect yourselves saying you weren’t screwing my little sister over this whole time.” Jack laid out what he knew to true in black and white. Trent inhaled shakily, his hands trembling as he finally looked up at Jack. 

“Mate….” Trent sighed, preparing himself to admit it all to Jack, ready to colorize the lie that got him to this place. “It… it was Josh.” He mumbled.

“Josh? Fuck off. Bro, serious. I’m trying to help you here and it’s just looking like you've been playing with Y/N’s heart.” Noah quipped desperately looking for clarity Trent was continually skirting around. 

“What the fuck does that piece of shit have to do with this? Nah, serious, what the fuck is going on.” Jack threw his head. Not at Trent but at the fact that Josh seemed to lace himself intricately into their lives way too often as of late. 

“I haven’t hooked up with Jess since, swear.” Trent jumped to the chase. “But Josh…” He sighed. “He has a video…” Trent sheepishly admitted. 

“A what?” Noah asked incredulously. Jack tensed. You and Trent together was one thing, but you and Trent together intimately was another.

“A video of us, bro. I don’t know how he got it. He showed me at the club and said he’d send it out if I didn’t tell Y/N I’d been messing about with Jess still, that I needed to leave alone that night or… god fuck!” Trent shouted angrily at the situation he found himself in. “You have to understand, he said he’d release it… I couldn’t let that happen. He was fucked up. He would’ve done it.” Trent muttered. “I couldn’t let him hurt her anymore.” Trent whimpered.

“Fuck… “ Noah seethed. 

“So you haven’t hooked up with Jess?” Jack pressed. 

“No. On my life.” Trent confirmed. “He has this video though of me and Y/N. He said he’d send it to The Sun… I don’t know, literally anywhere, her work, my work, your dad all just to embarrass her, hurt her, tank my reputation using her, ruin her anyway if I didn’t play along. He just wanted to hurt her. He wanted everyone to see her on her knees, bro… It’s … I don’t know how else to explain it, mate but I couldn’t let that happen to her. I couldn’t do that. He was fucked up. He would’ve done it, I could see it behind his eyes. I swear, I honestly didn’t even care about myself, I just cared about protecting her. That’s why I lied. For her. That’s why I said I was with Jess.” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t know what else to do. I was just doing what Josh said so he wouldn’t hurt her, so the video wouldn’t get out.” Trent took a deep breath after his long soliloquy. Jack’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of Trent’s confession sinking in. Noah leaned back in his seat in shock.

“Josh?” Jack repeated, his voice sharp. “You’re saying this is all because of him?” He questioned Trent, his eyes narrowing as if he could gauge the story somehow clearer. 

“Yeah, bro,” Trent said firmly. “He was trying to fuck with her and take me out in the process, Jack. You know what he’s like!” Trent yelped desperately. 

“Jack, the lad’s fucking crazy, he stormed into that party trying to start shit too, he wants to embarrass her. He’s trying to hurt Y/N. That sounds exactly like what he was looking to do that night.” Noah added cautiously. He didn’t want to pile on but he felt maybe it would help Trent’s case and maybe it would help them all remain friends. 

“Crazy is an understatement. He doesn’t fucking care. He just wants to hurt her and I wasn’t going to let that happen. I figured taking the fall would be better. I’d rather her hate me than him think he had control of her. You have to understand, he had the fucking email ready to fire off. He was going to do it, unless I lied, unless I left alone that night. I didn’t have another choice.” Trent babbled frantically, desperate for Jack to understand. Jack’s fists clenched at his sides, his anger simmering just below the surface. 

“That fucking prick,” he muttered. He paced the room for a moment, running a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you just tell her, Trent? Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked with venom.

“He told me I couldn’t! I couldn’t risk it. He was drunk… what if he sent it right then!” Trent yelped. “I was trying to protect her,” Trent admitted, his voice dropping barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want her to get hurt more than she already had been. But I fucked it up. I know that. I just couldn’t risk it. I just—I didn’t know what else to do. It was better for her to hate me than to let that kid hurt her any more.” Trent whimpered. But as he said his words aloud he realized that maybe it didn’t make enough sense. Jack stopped pacing, his expression hard but less hostile. He studied Trent for a long moment, weighing his words. 

“If you’re lying to us right now, Trent,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous, “I swear, I’ll never forgive you. I’d never  let you near her again. But if you’re telling the truth… we need to fix this. For her.” Jack’s eyes flicked towards Trent and then to Noah looking for some confirmation. 

“I’m telling the truth,” Trent said, his voice firm despite the tears threatening to spill. “I just want to make this right. I don’t want him to hurt her anymore. She’s endured enough. His fucking hands on her, his words, I can see her wince anytime anyone comes near her….” Trent voice shook. And finally… a tear tipped over. Trent was stood in front of his best friends crying. Jack and Noah were stunned. Never had they seen Trent cry. “It’s like she’s prepared for everyone to treat her like she’s already on her knees, to be thrown about and I couldn’t let him hold that over her, I couldn’t. He was going to exploit her, use her. I just couldn't stomach it. It’s breaking my own heart letting her hate me but I do it a million times over before I let him break her spirit once more. I couldn’t-“ Trent’s words were desperate with short gasps trying to catch his breath. He was completely distraught.

“T… mate. Just take breathe for a minute.”Jack spoke, cutting him off. The lump in his throat stifled his words. “Thank you.” Jack admitted and he meant it. The realization that the effects of Josh’s abuse was extending far past the expiration date of your relationship with him hurt Jack. He had to believe Trent. The strain in his voice, the desperation in his eyes, he could see it all written clear as day. 

“We’re gonna sort that fucking son of bitch out.” Noah chirped adamantly about creating a plan to put Josh in his place. Jack nodded slowly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. 

“Alright, then we figure this out. We need to sort this for her… and you know for you two.” Jack admitted through gritted teeth realizing that he was about to do anything to protect not just his little sister but he was about to do anything to protect his little sister’s relationship with his best friend. 

“Just for her, mate. I need to make sure she’s okay. He can’t do this.” Trent answered, his voice breaking.

“I deserved this,” you whimpered, barely able to get the words out. Your voice cracked as if the weight of the pain you were carrying would physically tear you apart. Layla didn’t hesitate. She crawled toward you on the bed, her movements slow and careful, but her arms wrapped around you with urgency, pulling you into her warmth as if she could shield you from everything hurting you.

“You didn’t,” she said firmly, her voice a quiet strength that demanded to be believed. “None of it. Not Trent, not Josh, not Jack and your dad, not your mum. None of this is fair, babe. None of it. But I’m here. I’m always here. You’re going to get through this.” She pressed her forehead against yours gently, grounding you when you felt like your entire world was falling apart. Your skin felt icy, a chill that seeped into your bones and made you feel like you weren’t even in your own body anymore. The detachment scared you, but you couldn’t find the words to explain it. You just stared at the ceiling, tears slipping silently from the corners of your eyes and onto the pillow beneath you.

“I just…” you started, voice trembling, barely audible. “I thought he wanted me.” The words fell from your lips like a confession, raw and bleeding. Your throat tightened as the tears came harder, blurring your vision and making it almost impossible to breathe. “Like someone actually wanted me— He was always so nice to me and I was stupid enough to believe him.” Your voice broke completely as the sobs overtook you, violent and gut-wrenching. You pressed your hands to your face, trying to smother the sound, but it was useless. The pain was too much. It was too big to hide. Layla pulled you closer, cradling you against her chest like a child. 

“Oh, babe,” she murmured, her voice filled with grief and love, trembling as much as your own. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve any of it. You deserve to be loved.” Her hand ran soothingly down your back, but even she was struggling to keep it together. “Not like this. Not in pieces. You deserve to be someone’s whole world.” Her voice cracked at the end, and you could feel her tears against your temple as she tried to hold it together for you. “Please… we’ll come out of this. I promise.” Her words felt so far away, too soft to reach you through the thick fog of anguish you were drowning in. All you could think about was Trent—his smile, his touch, his promises. He had felt like salvation, like the answer to years of brokenness, but now all he felt like was another lie. Another person who had used you and left you worse off than ever before. Every corner of your life felt tainted by him. You could still see him everywhere: you sat in the stands on weekends watching him with the rest of the world and yet somehow he still felt like he was just yours, his hand warm and protective on your waist in crowded clubs, the way he’d rest his head on your lap during lazy movie nights. His laughter, his whispers, his love—if it ever was love—were ghosts haunting every inch of your space. You couldn’t breathe without feeling him, without hurting.

“I can’t get away from him,” you admitted, your voice a shattered whisper. You buried your face in Layla’s chest, as if that might somehow shield you from your own thoughts. “It’s like… he’s everywhere. Everywhere I go, I see him. I feel him.” Your tears soaked through her shirt, but she didn’t care. She held you tighter, her hands never stopping their soothing motions down your back. You couldn’t even go anywhere in your own home, his imprint was ubiquitous; he’d sat in every chair, he’d held every glass, he’d opened every door. Now you found yourself feeling more battered and bruised than anytime Josh had ever touched you. You were starting to feel like maybe emotional hurt was worse than anything physical.

“It’ll take time,” Layla said gently, though her voice shook. “But you’ll get there. I promise. One day, he won’t hurt this much. He won’t have this hold on you. None of them will” You shook your head against her, the pain too fresh for you to believe her. 

“He hurts more than Josh ever did,” you admitted, the words coming out unbidden, your voice raw and bitter. “At least with him, I could see the scars. I could feel the bruises. His hands on me. But this—” You clenched your fists against Layla’s shirt, your body trembling with a fresh wave of sobs. “This is worse. He didn’t just break my heart. He broke me.” Layla froze for a moment, your confession hitting her like a punch to the gut. She felt at fault, guilty that she didn’t see it all. What Josh had done, what Trent apparently had done. She hadn’t known you felt like this, hadn’t realized how deep the wounds Trent could leave behind went. “I never want to see him again but he’s plastered around the entire country. I don’t know how to escape someone I so desperately wanted to see for years. He was the only person I looked at for years. I had complete tunnel vision, focused on him. I just wanted him to look only at me and I wasn’t enough. He looked elsewhere but he’s still all I see… and it hurts.” Slowly, Layla pulled back, cupping your tear-streaked face in her hands, her own eyes swimming with tears. 

“Listen to me,” she said fiercely, her voice trembling with emotion. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You didn’t let him do this. You trusted him because you’re a good person. Because you have a good heart, and you believed he had one too. That’s not on you, babe. That’s on him.” Her words were like a lifeline, pulling you up just enough to take a shaky breath. But the emptiness inside you remained, a hollow ache that seemed too vast to ever be filled. 

“I just want it to stop,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “The pain, the memories… I just want it all to stop.” Layla’s tears spilled over then, but she didn’t let go of you. 

“It will,” she promised, her voice cracking. “I swear it will. And until it does, I’ll be here. Every step of the way, I’ll be here.” Her arms tightened around you again, holding you as if she could keep the pieces of you together by sheer will. And for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into her, the faintest flicker of hope breaking through the suffocating darkness.

When Jack stepped into your room, his stomach twisted in a way he hadn’t felt in years. You didn’t just look sad—you looked like you’d been hollowed out, a shell of the person you used to be. His chest tightened as he took it all in: the dim light from your computer screen illuminating your face, your body wrapped in a blanket like it was the only thing holding you together, the empty water glass on your nightstand and the untouched bowl of snacks Layla must’ve left earlier. You weren’t just grieving—you were unraveling. Jack didn’t knock. He couldn’t. The sight of you like this obliterated every barrier between the two of you. He pushed the door open fully, the creak of the hinges announcing his presence as he stepped inside. The room was suffocatingly dark, the blinds shut tight, sealing you in a cocoon of silence and despair. Without saying a word, Jack walked to the window and yanked the blinds open. The sudden flood of light made you flinch, and you burrowed further under the blanket, shooting him a weak glare.

“Need to get up,” Jack said, his voice gentle but firm. He didn’t move closer right away, instead giving you space to process his words. You blinked at him, your voice hoarse and barely audible. 

“Why?” It wasn’t a challenge, just a broken question. Why get up? Why move? Why try? Jack took a hesitant step closer, his movements slow, like he was afraid you might crumble under the weight of his presence. He sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough to reach you but not close enough to overwhelm you. For a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to read the pain etched into every line. 

“Just for me,” he murmured, his voice soft and raw. “Please, Y/N. Just put on some sweats. Wash your face. You don’t have to do anything else. Just… do that for me.” He pleaded. You stared at him for a long moment, your lips trembling as tears welled up in your eyes. The lump in your throat was so thick you could barely breathe. Finally, you gave a small nod, sniffing back the sob that threatened to escape. Slowly, like moving through quicksand, you pushed the blanket off and swung your legs over the side of the bed. Jack didn’t say a word as you stood up, your body heavy and sluggish. He just watched, his heart breaking at how much effort it seemed to take you to even move. You trudged toward the en suite bathroom, the soft shuffle of your feet on the carpet the only sound in the room. Once inside, you closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as you caught your breath. The light from the bathroom mirror was harsh, and when you finally looked up at your reflection, you almost didn’t recognize the person staring back at you. Your eyes were swollen and red, your cheeks blotchy, your hair a mess. You looked like you’d been drained of every ounce of life and energy. Turning the faucet on, you let the cold water run for a moment before splashing it onto your face. The shock of it sent a shiver down your spine, pulling you back into your body for a brief moment. You reached for a towel, patting your face dry as you tried to steady your breathing. The faint murmur of the trash tv you were watching in your room filtered through the door, a reminder that Jack was still there, waiting for you. He hadn’t left.

With shaking hands, you pulled on an oversized hoodie and a pair of joggers from the pile of clothes on the bathroom counter. It was from laundry you should’ve done but menial tasks fell to the wayside, lost on you days ago. The clothes weren’t much, but they felt like armor against the weight of the world pressing down on you. You heard Jack pause the show in the other room leaving the en-suite eerily quiet, the faint hum of the light above doing nothing to break the stillness. You stood still barefoot on the cold tiles, the chill biting at your skin, yet it wasn’t enough to ground you. It felt like you were floating, disconnected from your own body, staring at a reflection in the mirror you barely recognized. The girl staring back looked broken—eyes rimmed red, lips trembling, cheeks stained with tears.

Your gaze shifted downward slightly, catching a glint of gold and blue in the mirror. The earrings. The ones Trent had given you when he sincerely and thoughtfully asked you to be his girlfriend. You had worn them every day since, a tangible reminder of the joy, the love, and the hope that had bloomed in that moment. Now, they felt different. A lump formed in your throat as you stared at them—the delicate gold butterfly in one ear and the striking blue butterfly in the other. They had been a symbol of the start of something beautiful, of a relationship you had longed for. But now, they felt like a cruel reminder of what you had barely even gotten the chance to hold onto. You didn’t even know how long he was even your boyfriend for, that’s how short it all felt and yet the hurt made it all feel incredibly long.

The tears came back quickly, racing down your cheeks before you could stop them. You sniffled, clutching the edge of the sink to steady yourself as your chest heaved with quiet sobs. It wasn’t just the loss of Trent that weighed on you. It was the idea that you had finally allowed yourself to believe in something good, something real, only for it to be ripped away before it had the chance to truly take root. Your fingers hesitated as they reached up, brushing against the earrings. For a moment, you considered taking them out, desperate to erase the pain, the memories, the pieces of him that lingered. But as your trembling hand hovered there, you froze. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t let go of him—not entirely. Even if your relationship was over, your love for him wasn’t. It clung to you, stubborn and unyielding, refusing to fade no matter how much it hurt. Maybe these butterflies, pinned delicately to your earlobes, could still be a source of hope. Maybe they could remind you of what had been, but also of what could still be. You let out a shaky breath, wiping at your tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. The weight in your chest didn’t disappear, but as you looked at your reflection again, you realized something. These earrings weren’t just about Trent. They were about you, too. About the courage it had taken to open your heart and the strength you’d need to keep it from breaking completely. The Trent that gave you these was gone. The Trent that looked after you for years disappeared but the girl you thought he loved was still there staring back at you, you couldn’t change that. You couldn’t escape her. Maybe, the butterflies—fragile as they were—could carry you through.

When you stepped back into the room, Jack was standing by the window, his hands in his pockets, staring out at the street below. He turned toward you as he heard the bathroom door open, his eyes scanning you carefully. You tugged at the hem of your hoodie self-consciously, feeling exposed even though you were fully covered. Jack’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he gave a small nod of approval, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Thanks,” he said softly, moving back to sit on the bed. He patted the spot beside him, and after a moment’s hesitation, you shuffled over and sat down next to him. Your body felt heavy, like it might sink into the mattress and never resurface. For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was just heavy, filled with all the things you couldn’t say yet. Jack placed a hand on your knee, his touch warm and steady, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in days. “I’m sorry I didn’t come in sooner,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. “I knew you were hurting… I just, I didn’t know this was how bad it was in here..” Jack cooed softly as he inspected the room. You’d been holed up for ages. “I didn’t know what to say… I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.” You swallowed hard, blinking back tears as you stared at your hands in your lap. 

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, but even as you said it, the tears started to fall. Jack didn’t try to stop them. He didn’t tell you it was going to be okay or that you needed to pull yourself together. He just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug as you let yourself completely crumble. You sobbed into his chest, your whole body shaking as the dam broke.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure. “I’ve got you, Y/N. I’m here.” He whispered as you fell apart.

After a long while and buckets of more tears. Jack convinced you to get into the car with the enticement of starbucks. The car ride was quiet, the kind of silence that wasn’t uncomfortable but still carried the weight of everything unspoken. Jack had barely said a word, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he navigated the streets. You didn’t ask where you were going—because it was clearly not in the direction of the closest Starbucks but part of you was too tired to care, and another yet part trusted him to know what you needed better than you did right now.

When the car pulled to a stop, you felt a pang of recognition before you even looked up. Heaton Park. Your chest tightened, and you let out a shaky sigh, your fingers fidgeting in your lap.  The moment you stepped out of the car, the cool air bit at your skin, but it couldn’t cut through the numbness you felt inside. You were sluggishly, the bitter wind brushing against your face and making you shiver. The familiar sight of the park stretched out before you, the stone paths winding through the greenery like veins in a leaf. The park stretched out before you, serene and empty, but it felt like the ground beneath you was unsteady.  For a brief moment, you felt a flicker of something—a memory, a connection—but it was fleeting. Jack walked a few steps ahead of you, his strides purposeful yet hesitant, silent, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. You followed, your feet dragging slightly on the gravel path.

“Are we going to go to—” you began, your voice soft and tentative. Jack didn’t let you finish. He turned and just nodded, his eyes returning to be fixed ahead. He knew what you were going to ask. Of course he did. The greenhouse.

It was a sanctuary, a place where your mum had poured so much of her love and energy. After she passed, it became something more—a place where you could feel her presence, as though she lived on in the delicate flutter of the butterflies that filled the glass room. It was a space that brought both comfort and sorrow, a bittersweet reminder of what you had lost and what you still held onto. As you walked toward it, the weight in your chest grew heavier. You weren’t sure if you were ready to step inside, to face the memories that waited for you there, you hadn’t been in a long time. But before you could take another step, Jack stopped.

“Why are you stopping?” you asked, turning to look at him with confusion. As the greenhouse came into view, its glass panes glinting faintly in the muted sunlight, your heart sank. The lush greenery inside was just visible through the tinted windows, the flickering movements of butterflies a distant echo of life you didn’t feel. You frowned confused as Jack stopped in his tracks. He turned to you, his lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes didn’t meet yours. He nodded back toward the greenhouse for you to really look. Your brows furrowed as you followed his gaze. There, through the glass, was Trent. He was seated on a bench, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together like he was holding on for dear life. His head was bowed, his shoulders slumped, his entire body radiating a kind of exhaustion you recognized all too well.

“Jack…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to see him. You swallowed, blinking back tears. You turned back towards the car. 

“Just talk to him,” Jack said softly, but firmly, pleadingly. He didn’t push you forward, didn’t try to guide you. He just waited. Your feet felt like they were weighed down. Finally, you took a deep breath. At the very least maybe you could sever ties entirely with Trent. You could let Trent break your heart to your face. Let him hurt you, slice you completely open and there in the green house so full of life, you could let this all die. 

“Why are you doing this?” you asked finally, your voice shaking as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you. And with those words, the dam broke once more. Jack didn’t answer. He just gave a small nod, his gaze shifting toward the greenhouse again. Your heart clenched, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. He looked different—not in a physical way, but in the way he carried himself. His shoulders were hunched, his hands clasped tightly together as he stared at the ground. He looked like a man who had been hollowed out, as though the weight of the world had finally caught up to him. You turned back to Jack, your eyes wide and filled with questions. “Jack…Why—” You asked again because you wanted to know. 

“I didn’t bring you here… for him,” Jack said quickly, his voice low and steady. “I brought you here for you. But… he asked to see you. Said he’d wait as long as it took. He’s been here for hours, Y/N. He’s not leaving until you talk to him.” Jack’s voice was calm. You could sense that he was comfortable with letting you go into an enclosed room with Trent. It didn’t make sense. He hurt you. Why was Jack okay with this. You felt your throat tighten, your emotions warring inside you. Part of you wanted to turn and walk away, to leave him sitting there in the greenhouse with his guilt and his regrets. But another part of you, a part you hated to admit existed, wanted to go inside. To hear what he had to say. Jack moved gently and slowly before placing a hand on your shoulder, grounding you. “You don’t have to do this,” he said gently. “But if you want to… Just do what you want.” Jack exhaled. “Y/N, for once, do what you want. Please.” Jack pleaded, desperate for you to be brave for yourself… not for him, not for Trent, but to either go in or get out on your own terms. 

And so then in that moment you decided, you wanted to feel it all, all the heartache, let it pull you under, hot box you in what once was. You wanted to be suffocated by the memories of your mum and memories of the Trent you’d once trusted that filled the greenhouse and be able to close the door behind you. You nodded slowly, your feet carrying you forward before your mind could catch up. The closer you got to the greenhouse, the louder your heartbeat became, pounding in your ears like a drum. Every step toward the greenhouse taking more effort than the last. The closer you got, the more details came into focus. The way Trent’s jaw clenched as he stared at the ground. The way his leg bounced nervously. The way his hands trembled, just barely, as they hung between his knees. When you reached the door, your hand hovered over the handle for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. You wanted to turn back, to run away, to avoid the pain you knew was waiting for you inside, maybe you weren’t strong enough for what you decided.  But something kept you rooted there—a flicker of hope, or maybe just a need for answers. You pushed the door open, the faint creak of the hinges cutting through the stillness. The soft hum of the greenhouse filling your ears as you stepped inside. The warm, humid air hit you immediately, carrying the faint smell of flowers and earth. It was warm and fragrant, the scent of memories mingling with the faint flutter of wings. Yet simultaneously, it was almost too quiet inside, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the soft mossy floor. 

Trent didn’t look up at first, but the moment the door clicked shut behind you, his head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and the raw emotion in them hit you like a wave, his eyes meeting yours. The pain in his expression mirrored your own, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking, as he stood abruptly, his voice raw with emotion. He looked like he didn’t know whether to move closer or stay where he was, his hands twitching at his sides. You didn’t say anything at first. You just stared at him, taking in the sight of the man you loved—someone who now felt like a stranger. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, with pain and regret and longing Trent stood as you approached, his movements slow and tentative, like he was afraid of scaring you away. You stayed quiet, your arms wrapping around yourself as you stopped a few feet away from him. The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until finally, Trent spoke again. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice a meek whimper, a tone you had never known. “For everything. For hurting you. For not fighting harder to protect us. I—I don’t even know where to start, but I need you to know… I never wanted this. I never wanted to lose you.” His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal—they were all still there, but so was something else. Something softer, something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward. But first, you needed answers. And you needed to know if you could trust him again.

“But you did hurt me. You didn’t fight for me. All you’ve done….” You whimpered barely able to get the words out. Tears were already coursing down your cheeks just merely at the sight of him. “All you’ve done is break me down in ways I didn’t even know were possible.” You cried, unable to look him in the eyes. You felt naked crying in front of him. Like your sweatset had vanished entirely.  

“I know.” Ternt muttered, unable to stay quiet as guilt crashed over him. You heard Jack’s car wheels pull across the gravel leaving you with Trent. You were alone, fragile, boxed in with the boy who broke your heart in a literal glass house that felt it could shatter at any moment.

“Why did you hurt me…” You sobbed. Trent wasn’t sure he ever knew pain like this existed either watching you stand there doused in the tears he caused.  “Why did you lie to me? Why wasn’t I good enough? You told me I was… you’re the only person who's ever even taken a second look at me, taken an interest in me, really saw me and… and… it was a lie. Why did you do that? What did you gain from that? Was it for the sex? You didn’t get enough of that elsewhere? You think I didn’t ache every time I saw you with a new girl for years and finally… god! fucking finally you really looked at me. I thought you loved me! You made me you’re fucking girlfriend just to screw Jess? Why would you hurt me…” Your words were fast, rushed, emotional, with gasps and hiccups interspersed between words.  

“I didn’t touch her.” Trent looked at you earnestly. Your brow furrowed trying to deduce if he was being honest or if he had the gull to lie to your face right now. “Y/N, I swear on my life, I have not looked at another girl, let alone touched one since you kissed me. I did not kiss Jess. I did not have sex with her. The day you kissed me my fucking life got flipped upside down. You have been the only thought in my head for months and you’ve been the only girl I’ve wanted for my years.” Trent confessed, his voice was weak but it was raw and unfiltered. It was unapologetically honest and you couldn’t ignore it. “Y/N… baby, please. I’ve waited. God, I’ve fucking waited my turn… I watched you with all those fucking assholes wishing you’d let me have a chance, let me in… please don’t shut me out now.” He whimpered desperately.

“Then why… I don’t understand how this got so fucked up.” You questioned him quietly. “Why did you say those things? Why did you leave?” You asked hesitantly, not sure if you could stomach the answer. 

“Josh… He has a video.” He confessed. The moment the words left his mouth, the air seemed to shift, heavy with a revelation that landed like a weight in your chest. Your mind reeled as Trent’s confession unfolded, the pieces clicking into place in a way that made your stomach churn.

“What?” you whispered, your voice trembling. He took a step forward. He’s hands gently wrapped around your biceps.

“Josh…” Trent said again, his grip on your arms tightening ever so slightly, like he was afraid you might disappear. “He has that video. I don’t know how he got it, but he threatened me. Said if I didn’t leave you, if I didn’t do what he asked, he’d release it. He wanted to hurt you. He used me to hurt you. He has a video of us and he was using it to exploit you and me, us.  Baby, I would never do this to you unprompted. He pushed my hand, I didn’t fuck Jess, that fucking prick made me lie to you. To everyone. I just couldn't handle him thinking he had control over you anymore. It broke my heart hurting you, letting you hate me but I’d do it a million times over before I let him come near you again. I will always protect you, even if it came at the cost of losing you. I lost the love of my life that night but….” Trent tried to keep talking but the look on your face made him pause.  Your knees buckled, and Trent was quick to steady you, his hands sliding down to your elbows. But you pulled back, stepping out of his reach as you tried to process what he was saying.

“He’s been blackmailing you?” you asked, your voice breaking. Trent nodded, his eyes red-rimmed and pleading.

 “I didn’t know what to do. I thought—I had to play his fucking game, it was the only way I could protect you. I could keep him from doing something worse. I didn’t want to lose you, baby, but I couldn’t let him hurt you again. I couldn’t.” He whimpered as you stumbled backward, your hands clutching your temples as the weight of it all came crashing down. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the manipulation—it was too much.

“You should have told me,” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “You should have trusted me. Trusted us.” Trent stepped forward again, desperate to close the gap between you.

“You don’t understand, he was going to send it at his fucking table that night. He had a video of you on your knees, Y/N ready to send out to anyone and everyone. I didn’t want you to carry that weight. You’ve been through enough. I don’t want him near you. My only option was to handle it on my own. I was protecting you the only way I could, that night.” Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head. 

“But you weren’t. Trent, you weren’t protecting me. You were letting him win. Letting him keep control.” You whimpered, explaining your very real thoughts. He dropped his head, his hands falling to his sides in defeat. 

“No. He doesn’t have control,” he said softly, yet unsure. “I know I messed up. But please, baby, I’m trying to make it right now. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us. He won’t take you away from me.” You looked at him, your heart aching in a way that made it hard to breathe. You wanted to believe him, to let yourself fall into his arms and trust that he could make it right. But the pain, the betrayal, the fear—it wasn’t something you could push aside so easily. You didn’t respond, your body too numb and your mind too overwhelmed to form words.  It felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you. You couldn’t comprehend it—Josh, holding something so intimate, so vulnerable, like a weapon against you. Your tears continued fast, hot and unrelenting, blurring the lush greenery around you into an indistinguishable haze. Trent stepped closer into you, his voice trembling.  “I know it hurt, baby, but I couldn’t risk it. Not that night. Not with him. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to lie to you, to everyone. You have to believe me.” His words cracked, and you saw his own tears spill down his cheeks. You’d never seen him cry like this before, and it broke something inside of you.

“So Josh still has a video of us?” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible as you wrapped your arms around yourself protectively. The nausea hit you like a tidal wave, and you staggered slightly again.

“I don’t know how he got it,” Trent said, his voice hoarse. “But he was trying to use it to get you away from me, to keep hurting you but I won’t let it happen.” The betrayal and disgust churned in your stomach, but amidst it all, there was one truth you couldn’t deny, one thing that felt louder than the rest. 

“I don’t want to be away from you,” you whimpered, your voice raw with emotion. That small admission shattered whatever invisible wall had been keeping you apart. You took a single step forward, and it felt monumental, like crossing a chasm. Trent didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as if he could shield you from everything, even the weight of the world. His embrace was warm and steady, but it also unraveled you completely. You broke down, your sobs shaking your whole body as you clung to him. It was a release you didn’t even realize you needed, all the pain, fear, and uncertainty spilling out in waves.

“I’m not going to be away from you,” Trent whispered into your hair, his voice steady despite the emotion lacing it. “I’m here. Okay? I’m not leaving.” He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to reassure you of his promise. The greenhouse felt both fragile and comforting, the tension in the air gradually giving way to something softer, something hopeful. For the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe. The lush oxygen in the greenhouse was no longer suffocating, it was liberating. It was quiet for a long time, only the sound of tears, ragged breaths, and broken hearts. 

“Are you still my boyfriend?” you whimpered against the soft cotton of Trent’s shirt, your voice barely audible. The words felt heavy in your throat, weighted with everything you’d been through, everything that had been said and done. Despite it all you were desperate to repair the gaping hole he’d left behind in your chest. You didn’t even know if you wanted the answer—because what if it wasn’t the one you needed? Trent froze for a moment, his breath catching in his chest. Then, with a tenderness that almost broke you, he pulled back, his large hands moving to cradle your face. His thumbs gently wiped away the tears spilling down your cheeks, his dark eyes swimming with emotion. He leaned in, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his breath warm and steady on your skin.

“I’ve waited my entire life to be your boyfriend,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’m not backing out now. Not for no one. I’ve got you.” The sincerity in his words hit you like a wave, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate; it was slow, deliberate, and filled with everything you couldn’t find the words to say. It felt like you were pressing your broken pieces into him, hoping he could hold them together. When you pulled away, your chest heaving with silent sobs, you noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye. A delicate blue butterfly flitted through the still air, its wings shimmering in the golden light streaming through the glass walls of the greenhouse. It circled once, twice, and then landed gently on Trent’s shoulder, its tiny legs gripping the fabric of his hoodie. The sight made you gasp, your tears momentarily forgotten. “That okay, pretty girl?” Trent whispered, his voice soft and almost hesitant. He didn’t move, afraid of disturbing the fragile moment unfolding between you. You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. “Supposed to be with you,” Trent continued, his voice barely above a murmur. “Take care of you. Love you. I know that.” He paused when he noticed your eyes weren’t locked on his anymore. His gaze shifted to the butterfly, his lips curving into a small, reverent smile. “And she knew that.” He cooed softly. Your heart clenched as you realized the significance of the creature perched so serenely on him. It wasn’t just a butterfly—it was a sign, a reminder of your mum, of her love, her presence, and her belief in you. Your fingers trembled as you reached out, brushing them lightly against Trent’s arm. 

“I miss her so much.” You sniffled. “I can tell she’s here though,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I can feel her.” Trent nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. 

“I know, baby.” He whispered. You blinked, tears blurring your vision, and suddenly remembered the earrings he’d given you—the ones you’d worn so often without fully understanding their significance. They were just like the butterfly: delicate, blue, shimmering. A quiet tribute to your mum, a connection between the past and the future.

“She always knew I loved you,” you murmured, your voice gaining strength. “Even now I feel like she pushes me to remember that it’s always been you… Even when it shouldn’t work.” You whimpered. Trent shifted slightly, tilting his head to get a better look at the butterfly as it fluttered its wings. 

“It should work. I will make it work. She knew that I would take care of you, that I’m supposed to take care of you,” he said, his voice steady now. “And I will, Y/N. I promise because I love you.” The emotion in his voice shattered the last of your defenses. You stepped into him fully, burying your face in his chest as your tears soaked into his shirt. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

“I love you,” you sniffled, the words muffled but clear. Trent pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering. 

“I love you more than you will ever know, more than I could ever even begin to tell you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. The butterfly finally took flight, fluttering upward toward the glass ceiling. You both watched it go, its wings catching the light as it disappeared into the rafters. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. When you turned back to Trent, he was already looking at you, his expression filled with so much love and determination that it made your knees weak. “C���mere. My perfect pretty girl,” he cooed, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together. “Love you so so much.” He whispered almost to himself as his other hand pulled your head into his chest. He kissed your hair again and again. The way you smelt, the way you felt, it all felt like a dream. It didn’t make sense that this was real but as you marginally separated he opened the door to exit the green house reality came crashing back down. The light catching your cheekbone, a tear streak stain on your cheek, a painful reminder of how very real you were. How very real the hurt he had caused was. You were real and you were his and he’d do anything to keep you safe. 

“T…?” you questioned softly, your voice barely audible as your fingers curled around his hand. The two of you walked slowly along the winding paths of the park, the faint rustling of leaves and the distant laughter of children filling the quiet space between you.

“Yeah, pretty girl?” he hummed, glancing down at you, his dark eyes full of warmth despite the tension lingering between you. You hesitated, your steps faltering for a moment. 

“I’m… I’m scared of Josh. That video getting out would be so bad for you,” you mumbled, your gaze fixed on the path in front of you. The words felt heavy, and saying them out loud made the fear all the more real. Trent stopped walking, turning to face you. He placed his hands gently on your arms, his thumbs stroking soothingly over the fabric of your sweatshirt. 

“Y/N, baby,” he began, his voice low and steady, “I would risk my life, my career—everything—to protect you. And I’m so sorry that trying to do that ended up hurting you. I swear with my whole heart, that piece of shit will never hurt you again. He can’t even get close to my baby, alright? I gotcha.” The conviction in his voice and the fierce protectiveness in his eyes made your heart clench. You nodded, leaning into him as his arm wrapped around you, pulling you tightly into his side. The spring breeze carried the scent of his cologne, wrapping you in a cocoon of safety and comfort.

“Okay,” you murmured, though the unease still lingered in your chest. After a moment of silence, you tilted your head up to look at him. “Are we going to have to hide again?” you asked hesitantly, the thought of going back to a secret relationship filling you with dread. Trent’s grip on you tightened slightly, his arm anchoring you to him. You had so many questions you almost felt bad asking them but Trent felt worse having to answer them, it should’ve never come to this.

“No, pretty girl,” he said firmly. “I’ll protect you, alright? No more hiding. We’re doing this right. You and me.” His words brought a flicker of warmth to your chest, melting away some of the fear. 

“Okay,” you whispered again, your lips curling into a small smile. “So… I’m your girlfriend again?” you asked playfully, a hint of mischief creeping into your tone. Trent chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. 

“You’ve always been my girl,” he murmured, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your temple. Your cheeks warmed, and you let out a quiet giggle. 

“Good,” you said, squeezing his waist. “Because I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he teased, kissing the top of your head. You walked in comfortable silence for a while, the park’s serene atmosphere working its magic on your frayed nerves. The weight of the past few days still hung over you, but in his presence, it felt a little lighter, a little easier to bear. “Thank you for listening…understanding,” Trent spoke after a while, his tone soft but serious. “I know that night was hard—harder than I can even imagine on you. For me too. I just… I was trying to protect my pretty girl.” You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the sincerity etched into his face. 

“I’ve always waited. I understand,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “I do.” Unable to resist the pull of his warmth, you wrapped your arms around his waist, holding onto him as if he were the only thing tethering you to the ground. He didn’t seem to mind—if anything, he held you just as tightly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as the two of you slowly made your way out of the park. For the first time in days, you felt a small spark of hope. Maybe the two of you could get through this. But maybe, just maybe, as you felt relationship coming up, you'd also be reminded of that little video of you going down still existing on Josh's phone.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 22 xx

[ditzydoe444]

okay so it’s not a really good or specific idea or anything buuuuut… could you please please please do soft dom!jason x bunny!reader? i loved your other bunny!reader😔

btw feel free to ignore this if you don’t like it or anything, love ya🫶🏻

MDNI 18+

soft dom! jason x bunny! reader

jason todd smut

you were horny. so fucking horny. but you never initiated sex, ever. so all you could do was lay in bed with a pout until jason got home, and would hopefully catch the hint. jason had been working in the garage for hours during the past week, where you were left alone in the house with only your fingers shoved up your tight cunt, pretending it was jason’s. after moving in you threw out all of your sex toys, not because jason was against it, but because they came nowhere close to the pleasure jason would give you.

but you didn’t think about how short your fingers were, how they barely gave you anything, god you never regathered throwing out the toys more than now. whilst jason was at work you were sprawled out on the bed, your tiny fingers pumping in and out of cunt. the whines and moans that left your mouth were pathetic, to say the least, god you couldn’t even give yourself an orgasm. hence why you started to dry hump his pillow. there was something about smelling his musky scent that turned you on. the pillow did more than your fingers, you came hard.

the pink floral pillowcases that you insisted on getting was now stained and damp with your slick. the sight made you embarrassed. you were literally a bunny in heat. jason would never make fun of you for it, he would never do that. but there was something so embarrassing and tainting about seeing your cum on his pillow. immediately, with flush cheeks you threw the pillowcase away, putting on a fresh one.

your legs were still slightly sore from riding his pillow, and your post orgasm glow was visible, your cheeks with a small flush of pink, hair sticking to your forehead and your eyes teary from how badly you missed him. so when you heard the front door open, a sign that jason had returned your stomach dropped. you jumped back into bed pretending you were relaxing as usual, though when he walked in the bedroom he could sense something was off.

“hey bun,” he cooed softly sitting by the edge of the bed where you were. you smiled shyly, the nickname that would usually make you blush reminded you of how you were humping his pillow, like a literal bunny. “how are you feelin’?” he smiled, tracing the soft contours of your cheeks.

god you prayed that he didn’t see the flush of your skin, jason knew what you looked like when you came, and that was enough to make you panic. “j-just a little tired,” you smiled. that wasn’t exactly a lie. you were always slumped after an orgasm.

“what’s wrong bun? you are heating up,” he frowned as he placed his large hand on your forehead. you shook your head, slightly panicking. “n-nothing, the summer air is just making me a little hot.” though jason was smart enough to see through your lies. his large hands grabbed you by the waist, and easily placed you down on his lap, where you were straddling him.

“tell me the truth. you know i don’t judge,” he said softly, his hands rubbing small soft circles against your soft thighs. you couldn’t tell him the truth, it was embarrassing, what would he even think of you? you shook your head, “really, i’m fine jay.”

a small frown appeared on his face. “don’t lie.” gently, he bounced you ever so slightly, a way to get you out of your shell. “come on bun, tell me what’s in that pretty little mind of yours.” deep down he wouldn’t judge, but there was always the inkling of doubt that ran in your head.

“i just missed you, that’s all,” you mumbled shyly, snuggling deeper into his broad chest. he let out a low chuckle, “i missed you too bun.” gently he tried to push your face away from his chest, him wanting to see your face. “but something tells me, it was more than that,” he nudged softly. “let me see that pretty little face of yours, and look me in the eyes and tell me what’s wrong.”

he gently brushed the hair that was stuck to your forehead away, “you got this glow on your face bun, the kind of glow you only get when you come.” of course he caught on, he was the one responsible for giving you leg shaking orgasms. “i just really missed you,” you mumbled softly, refusing to look him at him in the eyes. “i missed your touch, i missed everything.”

he nods, his gaze never leaving yours, it was full of understanding and softness. “so you touched yourself?” he gently asked. you nodded, your hands clutching onto his shirt tightly. he let out a small chuckle, holding your fists in his hands, “want me to help with that?”

**

jason was always soft and gentle with you in bed, treating you like a princess, prioritising your pleasure first. “how are you feelin’ bun?” he mumbled softly, his lips gently nibbling your earlobe. he has you pinned down in a mating press, his large muscular frame on top of yours. you were in no place to talk, the pleasure was too much and your mind was going blank. the most you could do was a small pathetic nod.

“such a pretty little thing, you are doing so well.” jason gently kissed the tears that were on your cheeks, you always struggled to take him fully due to his size, hence why he would always give you small kisses and whisper words of encouragement. “taking me so well,” he groaned as your cunt gripped onto his cock.

“think you can handle it if i go a little harder?” he gently kissed your forehead. he knew your answer, and you knew it too. he was always so reassuring and gentle you would do whatever he asked. you nodded, “yeah jay,” you whined.

slowly he increased his pace, despite how deep he was going in you, his soft words of encouragement never stopped. “doin’ so well for me,” he grunted. “makin’ all those pretty sounds just for me.” he was balls deep inside you, your cunt was making the most lewd noises. “such a pretty little bun, all for me.” he praised softly.

you clung onto his neck, holding him tightly like he was going to disappear. “next time, if you need me just tell me ok? no need to hump the pillow.” you nodded, your grip tightening. jason saw how well you took him in, his cock disappearing between your swollen folds. “atta girl,” he groaned, kissing your neck.

“so pretty for me,” he mumbled leaving hot kisses on your neck. “j-jay, ‘m close,” you whined. gently, he squeezed your lower stomach, gently caressing just where he was buried in. “you can do it, i’ve got you.” he groaned at how tightly you were squeezing him. “come bun, just let it go.”

the moment he pressed on your lower stomach, you came. your moans echoing through the room. “there we go, that wasn’t so hard was it?” he grinned, kissing your forehead. you gave him a small smile, completely exhausted though you knew that you only received your first orgasm of the night, there was plenty more to give. “god, you’re so pretty so nicely fucked out for me, i have to give you some more.”