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justabigassnerd · 13 hours ago

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'Till The End pt. 1

Pairing - JJ Maybank x reader

Word Count - 4,597

Series Warnings - swearing, smoking, angst, fluff, violence, weapons, blood, injuries, death, some canon divergence, drugs, alcohol, mentions of physical abuse

Summary - After coming back from your adventures discovering El Dorado with the Pogues, you thought your treasure-hunting days were behind you. However, soon enough, you and your friends are dragged into another race for a priceless treasure with twists and turns you never could’ve anticipated.

'Till The End masterlist

'Till The End playlist

A/N - hey y'all! it's time for the first part of one of my two JJ Maybank series and I'm super excited to be giving this out into the tumblr world! this is a little birthday gift from me to y'all so I truly hope you guys enjoy this because I have been working on it for a couple of months now and I never want to let y'all down or disappoint you. as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

You couldn’t help but smile as you followed behind JJ as he took in every inch of the newly built ‘Poguelandia’, it was like watching a puppy discover his new home. Everyone followed JJ as he excitedly led them through the house, designating rooms for everyone before excitedly dragging you into what he had dubbed as your shared room.

“I can see it now. The business takes off, and then you and I can get a place of our own. Oh, maybe we could use some of our share of the gold money to put aside for a house.” JJ rambles, taking in the new room as your eyes widen slightly in shock at his words.

“Hey, Baby. Eyes on me for a second, okay?” You stay, smoothly stepping in front of JJ and cupping his face in your hands, his eyes struggling to focus on you for more than a millisecond.

“My eyes are here JJ, just look right here.” You say softly, gently coaxing JJ into looking you in the eyes.

“Sorry. I’m getting too ahead of myself aren’t I?” JJ says apologetically, his eyes flicking down to the floor as you brush your thumbs over his cheeks softly, a small smile on your face.

“No, Baby. You’re excited and that’s okay. But we don’t need to worry too much about that stuff at the moment. Let’s focus on getting the business up on its feet with the others first, huh? I’m so unbelievably happy with you and that’s not going to change even if we live in a house with the others.” You say softly, smiling as you shake your head. At your words, JJ gets the courage to look back up at you and offers you a weak smile.

“You sure?” JJ asks quietly, and your heart sinks at his words. You knew about the damage his dad had done to him over the years which had an everlasting impact on his attachment issues. He clung to his found family like they were his lifeline and you knew he would burn down all of society if it meant you and the other Pogues were safe.

“I’m positive, JJ. All I want is to be by your side.” You assure him softly, your smile refusing to falter for even a second. At your words, JJ’s shoulders sag slightly in his relief before he carefully manoeuvres closer, silently asking for permission to kiss you. Without even answering his question verbally, you lean closer, pressing your lips against his in a delicate kiss, your hands traversing up to his hair, messing with the fluffy strands as he deepens the kiss, his hands drifting to your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. The two of you continued the soft kiss until the need for air became too much and you pulled away slightly, immediately resting your foreheads against each other as you gazed lovingly into each other's eyes.

“I love you so much,” JJ mumbles gently, his smile boyish and lovestruck as his eyes refuse to break the gaze.

“I love you too.” You reply, your voice matching JJ’s in softness as you smile back before he pulls you back in for another kiss. You didn’t know it was possible to love a person as much as you loved JJ.

Both of you had been part of John B’s friendship group for years and as you grew up, your crush on JJ hit you like a giant wave all at once. At first, you thought you could ride it out, act as if it was nothing more than the waves you so regularly surfed on but it soon pulled you under. You often found yourself searching for JJ in a crowd, longing to be near him as much as possible. For the longest time, you thought your crush was unrequited and that JJ would never look at you the way you looked at him. But by some miracle, JJ did reciprocate your feelings, and after a particularly close call, you and JJ had been separated from the rest of the Pogues and while you hid, JJ hurriedly confessed his feelings, both of you terrified that it was going to be your last few moments alive.

Hearing JJ confess that he had feelings for you made your heart flutter, a feeling you’re sure you weren’t supposed to be feeling when your life was at risk. All you could do at the moment was stare, wide-eyed before the sound of footsteps approached nearby and instinctively, JJ wrapped an arm around you, tugging you as far back against the wall as he could, making sure he was shielding you from any potential harm. You both waited anxiously with bated breath, swearing you could feel his heart pounding strongly against your side. You heard the people mingling nearby, their footsteps scuffling along the concrete as they called for you to come out from wherever you were hiding, their voices growing angrier by the second. When one of the men suddenly shouted, you let out a slight whimper which made JJ suddenly press a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet when the men thought they heard something. Your eyes had flicked over to JJ’s in a panic, your shaky breaths now muffled by his hand. Yet somehow, JJ looked calmer than you did. He still carried the tension of a prey animal listening out for a predator, but his eyes were ever gentle, like he was convincing you that everything was going to be okay. When the men began to grow frustrated and walk off, JJ carefully removed his hand from your mouth and apologised quietly. Sensing that the coast was now clear, JJ helped you to your feet and with your hand in his, quickly rushed you back to the Chateau where you discovered that you were alone, giving you the chance to finally confess your feelings to him after his sudden confession. This led you to where you are now, both of you insanely happy and in love.

You were shaken from your thoughts when you heard someone's fist slamming against your closed bedroom door, making you and JJ jump apart in shock.

“Are you guys done sucking face in there? We want to make some food and then set up a campfire or something.” You hear John B call through the door before hearing the unmistakable sound of Sarah giggling outside as well, making you roll your eyes at your friends.

“I’m going to kick his ass,” JJ mumbles as you chuckle at his faux annoyance at his best friend.

“Come on, we should probably eat, it’s been a long day.” You say with a smile, getting ready to exit the room, grabbing one of JJ’s stray hoodies and tugging it on, smiling at the faint scent of his cologne that still clung to the fabric. Just as you moved towards the door, you felt your phone buzz in the pocket of your shorts and you pulled it out without a second thought, turning it on and eyebrows furrowing when you saw the text displayed across the screen.

“What is it?” JJ asks, picking up on your change in mood and instantly wanting to protect you.

“It’s Mom and Dad. They know we’re back from the Oricono and they want me to go over for dinner.” You say with a sigh.

You didn’t have the worst relationship with your parents. They just constantly pushed you to do things that they wanted you to do as opposed to letting you pick your own path. Your family was an outlier in the Outer Banks. You had enough money to get by, so most of the Pogues considered you a Kook. But you weren’t rich enough to own a yacht or a membership to a country club, so the Kooks all considered you a Pogue. It didn’t help your family’s reputation that you were constantly hanging out with the most troublemaking group of Pogues and it definitely added to the tension between your family. And with the way your dad’s business was going, your family was inching closer and closer to becoming Kooks and you knew it was only a matter of time before they bought a house on Figure Eight so the last thing they wanted was a daughter who associated with the Pogues as much as you did.

“Do you want to go? You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” JJ says softly, instinctively taking your hand in his and squeezing it softly. He knew about the growing tension between you and your parents. JJ had been witness to a lot of arguments and it broke his heart to see the hurt on your face when your parents tried to convince you to leave behind the Pogues and dubbed it ‘silly’ that you hung out with them.

“I owe it to them to go. It’s just dinner and I can come back home after. I don’t want to miss out on a campfire.” You say, seeing the smallest of smiles crossing JJ’s face when he realised that you had referred to Poguelandia as ‘home’.

“I’ll drive you over. I’m not letting you head over alone.” JJ says, ever the protective boyfriend as you sigh softly before nodding, knowing you’ve lost the battle before you even tried.

“Okay.” You reply softly, opening your phone so you can reply to the message, letting your parents know that you’ll be coming over.

“Let’s go then. John B will let us use the Twinkie.” JJ decides, already leading you by the hand towards the door, quickly locating John B the moment the two of you leave the room and whistling quickly to get his attention.

“Yo, John B! I need the keys to the Twinkie,” JJ says as the two of you approach John B.

“You need the keys to the Twinkie? What if I need the keys to the Twinkie?” John B says, placing a hand on his chest as if he was scandalised by JJ’s demand.

“You boys are ridiculous,” Sarah murmurs with a roll of the eyes and an amused smirk on her face at the antics of JJ and John B.

“It’ll be for a few minutes max. JJ is just dropping me off at my parent's house for dinner. He’ll come straight back after.” You say quickly, conscious of the time and what your parents could be like and at your words, John B was instantly digging in his pocket for the keys to the Twinkie, handing the keys to JJ before offering you a friendly smile.

“You’ll be back for the campfire, right?” John B asks with a raised eyebrow as you nod.

“I’m planning on coming back as soon as I can but also no promises.” You say as John B and Sarah nod.

“Well, we’ll keep stuff aside for you just in case,” Sarah says, her smile ever-friendly as you nod, grateful for your friends.

“Hey, tell the others I haven’t ditched them and I’ll make dinner next time, promise.” You say as you and JJ make your way out of the house to head for the Twinkie, smiling as John B offers you a salute and a friendly wink.

“I won’t have anything to drink tonight. You can text me when you want me to come pick you up.” JJ says, opening the driver's side door and getting behind the wheel while you clamber into the passenger seat.

“You don’t need to do that J, I can make my own way back.” You say with a smile, not wanting him to miss out on the fun.

“I want to. I’m not letting you walk home in the dark. Especially if those damn Kooks decide to roam around.” JJ says, his eyes narrowing at the thought of any Kooks trying to seek out and hurt Pogues and finding you in the process.

“JJ…” You mumble, thinking of another fighting point but just seeing the look on his face was enough to get you to back down. He had made his decision and you knew there was no way you’d be able to talk him out of his choice.

It took no more than ten minutes for JJ to drive you over to your house, and when you saw the all-familiar Jeep parked in the driveway you couldn’t help but tense up slightly, a movement that JJ noticed instantly.

“Is that…?”

“Leo’s car.” You confirm, feeling your stomach twist as your anxiety takes hold. You had a much more tense relationship with your older brother. Leo had always tried to fit in with the Kooks while you were happy and felt much more at home with the Pogues which helped to aid the tension between the two of you.

“Do you want me to come with you? The others won’t miss me.” JJ offers, resting his forearms on the wheel as he looks over at you with a soft gaze that was reserved for you only.

“It’s best you head back to Poguelandia. The last thing I need is a fight breaking out.” You say, looking over at JJ who fights back a frown.

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.” JJ tries bargaining, not wanting you to be alone.

“I love you, JJ. But it’s best I go in alone.” You say softly. JJ was very vocal in his hatred towards your brother, he often enjoyed pushing his buttons to get a rise out of him and there had been multiple occasions where you’d had to step in when it grew physical. You knew JJ’s heart was in the right place, it always was, but you didn’t want him getting hurt on your behalf.

“If you need me, call me. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.” JJ says, his gaze focused solely on you as you lean forward to press a tender kiss to his lips, the moment gentle before you pull away offering JJ a small smile to convince him you’ll be okay.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll come home before it gets too late.” You vow quietly, giving JJ one final soft kiss before turning to get out of the vehicle, offering him one final wave before approaching the front door of the house, knocking tenderly and waiting for the door to open.

“y/n, it’s good to see you.” Your dad says as he opens the door, his smile faltering when he catches sight of the Twinkie, his glare hardening when he sees JJ behind the wheel, studying the interaction carefully.

“Is JJ staying?” Your dad then asks, his tone sharp as he continues to glare.

“No, he just wanted to drop me off. He didn’t like the idea of me walking over alone.” You explain, looking over your shoulder, smiling and waving at JJ to let him know you are okay.

“He better not be hanging out here the whole time. I don’t need people thinking I tolerate that boy.” Your mom then says, sidling up alongside your father as they both watch JJ carefully.

“He’s not staying I just said that. He’ll move on in a minute.” You insist, navigating your way into the house just so your parents would stop glaring at JJ. The moment you were in the house, the door was slammed behind you and you made your way through to the living room where Leo was lounging on the sofa, watching some tv show you knew most Kooks loved.

“y/n. Didn’t think I’d see you around here.” Leo says snarkily as he rises to his feet, the tv show now forgotten as he stares down at you.

“Mom and Dad are my parents too in case you forgot. I could be asking you why you’re here.” You snap back, glaring at your older brother.

“Figured I earned myself a break. I wasn’t going to spend all my time at college was I?” Leo says with the roll of his eyes as he folds his arms across his chest.

“I wish you did.” You mutter under your breath as you turn around, already beginning to make your way through to the dining room.

“What did you just say?” You hear Leo ask as you leave, beginning to trail behind you.

“It doesn’t matter Leo. I was just thinking out loud.” You say, annoyed by your brother bothering you.

“You’ve gotten real mouthy because of those Pogues. Why do you hang out with those assholes?” Leo asks, goading you.

“Those assholes are my best friends and one of them is my boyfriend. I don’t give a shit about what you think of me but don’t you say a fucking word about any of them.” You growl angrily, turning to face Leo.

“Language y/n. What have those Pogues taught you? To disrespect your family?” Your dad interrupts, a steaming dish of food in his hands as he enters the hallway to make his way to the dining room. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at your dad’s comment, he always took Leo’s side.

“I wasn’t- you know what? Let’s just eat dinner. I’ll help bring food out.” You say, throwing up your hands in exasperation as you move to the kitchen where your mom is organising the food into separate dishes.

“I’ll take the vegetables through, Mom.” You say, forcing a smile as you pick up the dish of steaming vegetables.

“Thank you.” Your mom says, barely glancing over at you, her focus staying on what she was doing. You take the dish through to the dining room, fighting the urge to roll your eyes when you see Leo sitting at the table, already plating up his own food while no one is sitting at the table. When all the food was brought through, you and your parents finally settled down at the table and plated up your meals. At first, the silence was welcomed, nothing more than the sounds of cutlery against plates. And then Leo decided to open his mouth.

“So, how well did that supposed ‘treasure hunt’ go?” Leo says with a smirk, convinced he was going to embarrass you.

“It went well enough that we were able to get a business starting soon.” You answer nonchalantly, bringing another forkful of food to your mouth.

“What do you mean?” Your mother enquires, all eyes suddenly on you.

“We bought the Maybank plot. Did up the house and built a little shack out the back, a little waterside surf shop. We’re going to sell live bait, snacks, drinks, all that stuff.” You shrug, watching as Leo’s eyebrows furrow in annoyance.

“You Pogues think you’re actually going to get anywhere with that? No one will want to buy from you guys. Especially using the Maybank plot as your home. No one wants to go near land associated with Luke or JJ, they’re both as bad as each other.” Leo says, raising an eyebrow as you clench your jaw.

“Don’t say that about JJ. He’s nothing like Luke.” You say firmly, fighting the urge to slam your fists down. You’d seen the damage Luke had done to JJ over the years. You had been the one cleaning his wounds and hugging him even when he insisted he was okay. JJ was nothing like his pathetic excuse of a father and you told him as much.

“We all know JJ has a temper to match his old man’s. It’s only a matter of time.” Leo taunts, smirking as he senses your growing anger.

“JJ is ten times the man you’ll ever be. You look down on the Pogues because you’re so damn desperate for the Kooks to notice you. News flash, the Kooks think our family are Pogues. They don’t give a shit about you. Just because you splashed Mom and Dad’s money on a fancy Jeep, people aren’t suddenly going to accept you. Going to college is the best thing you’re ever going to achieve so use it. Get the fuck out of OBX.” You say angrily, your eyes narrowing as you stare at your brother, his shit-eating grin only angering you further.

“Enough of the language, y/n.” Your father snaps, his glare cold as he looks over at you.

“That’s a good point you mentioned, y/n. When are you planning to go to college? Have you looked at any?” Your mother changes the subject, looking pointedly over at you.

“No, Mom. I don’t want to go to college.” You say, exasperated by the question you had been on the receiving end of for years.

“y/n, you can’t throw your whole life away for a silly group of friends. This treasure hunting isn’t a career and neither is that silly surf shop. You can’t make a life like that. You’re only eighteen years old.” Your father says, his voice gruff and firm.

“Dad, they’re not a silly group of friends. They’re my family. I don’t recall many silly groups of friends becoming millionaires the way we have.” You say firmly.

“No. We are your family, not those Pogues. That money will run out sooner or later. You lot don’t know what to do with it.” Your father then says, his fist pounding against the wooden table loudly.

“My bet is JJ will waste it all. Just like his dad.” Leo mutters, making you fight the urge to throw something at him.

“Look, what we’re trying to say is that you’re not going to stay friends with those Pogues forever. And your relationship with JJ won’t last forever either. You’re on a time limit and we don’t want you throwing your life away just for a boy and his friends.” Your mom says, painting on her faux kind voice as you feel your eyes building with tears. Without warning, you push your chair back and get to your feet, darting for the front door and ignoring the annoyed calls of your parents as you exit the house. As you stepped into the cool night air, you debated on texting JJ, but you didn’t want to bother him, he deserved to have a good night with his family. You could make your own way back to Poguelandia.

You tugged JJ’s hoodie further around you as the cool night air settled around you. You couldn’t stop the tears from falling as you relive the comments your family made about your friends and your boyfriend. The walk wasn’t one that would take you too long, but JJ’s concerns about the potential of Kooks roaming around just to bother Pogues rattled you slightly. Every time a car drove past, you felt yourself tense up, worrying about whether you needed to get ready to protect yourself from anyone. When you were about halfway back to Poguelandia, you heard a car pull up alongside you, and your head whipped around, ready to come face to face with a Kook and instead seeing the Twinkie and JJ sticking his head out the window.

“y/n, you gave me a damn heart attack when I saw you were walking home. I said you could text me.” JJ says, holding his phone up and showing you the screen where it displayed your location.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, your voice thick with tears as you look at JJ, seeing his whole demeanour shift when he notices your glassy eyes.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” JJ asks, his eyes growing wide in shock as you shake your head, crossing to the Twinkie and climbing in, tugging the hoodie sleeves over your hand so you can furiously wipe at your eyes.

“Can we just go home?” You ask before JJ can begin asking more questions.

“Yeah, of course. We’ll head home and go to our room, call it a night.” JJ says, looking over at you as a tear rolls down your cheeks despite you trying to conceal your tears.

“No, I want to hang out with the others. I need to take my mind off everything.” You mumble thickly, not wanting to ruin the mood.

“You sure?” JJ asks, briefly removing his gaze from the road to look at you, concerned.

“I’m sure.” You confirm with a nod, your focus on the world going by. Wordlessly, JJ reaches over and rests his right hand on your thigh, squeezing lightly which brings a small smile to your face. Without even trying, JJ was always able to bring the smallest of smiles to your face. It took practically no time to get back to Poguelandia and you were greeted happily by the Pogues who were all sat by the campfire, waving you over.

“You were gone too long, y/n. You could’ve saved us from John B’s cooking.” Kiara teases as you approach the group, turning down the offer of beer from Cleo.

“Sorry guys. Tomorrow, I’ll make the food.” You reply, trying to sound as upbeat as normal but your parent's words were plaguing you. Hovering over you like a cloud. Instead of joining the others by the campfire, you beeline for the hammock, climbing into it and curling up.

“Room for one more?” JJ asks quietly, asking for permission to join you.

“Always.” You mumble in response, waiting patiently for JJ to clamber in alongside you, settling in the hammock alongside you as it sways gently. JJ soon tucks you against his side, his warmth inviting and comforting as you curl into him, resting your head on his chest and watching the others at the campfire whistle and hoot.

“You two lovebirds.” Cleo teases as Pope laughs, wrapping his arm around Cleo.

“I mean come on, Baby, we’re just as bad,” Pope says teasingly, pressing kisses to Cleo’s cheek as she laughs but leans into the embrace. You laughed quietly at their antics, feeling JJ press a soft kiss to the top of your head as his hand tightened around your waist in an attempt to hold you closer.

“You doing, okay?” You hear JJ ask quietly, wanting to check in on you.

“Better. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” You mutter in response, curling impossibly further into JJ, his cologne and his natural warmth comforting and making your eyelids flutter shut, the exhaustion of the day sneaking up on you. JJ seemed to sense your exhaustion, and so his hand moved from your waist to play with your hair, setting his free hand near yours so you could tiredly reach out and fiddle with the rings that sat proudly on his fingers. It had become a nightly routine for you to play with his rings as you dozed off, it helped you relax and take your mind off anything that might’ve bothered you during the day. You were vaguely aware of JJ whispering over at someone but you didn’t bother to strain your ears to try and listen. All you heard was hushed voices and then the sounds of footsteps and twigs crunching before a blanket was placed over you. It was one of the fluffy blankets you and the others used when sat around the campfire. The smell of smoke clung to the blanket after nights of use and it helped to provide even more comfort to you as you pulled the blanket up to your nose, making sure it covered JJ enough too.

“I love you, y/n.” You hear JJ whisper softly as you begin to drift off to sleep, only able to cuddle closer to JJ before you finally slip under the comfort of sleep with JJ’s steady heartbeat pounding beneath your head.

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd writes #'till the end #'till the end series #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #obx #obx fic #outer banks fic #obx fanfiction

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foreverisntenough · 17 hours ago

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‘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 22 - 'I'm Sorry' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.1 k

You sat cross-legged on Trent’s bed, your phone resting limply in your hand as you watched your screen light up. Your phone rang with a call from Layla. Your thumb hovered over her name, hesitant to answer. It continued to vibrate as you built up your courage. You answered slowly, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster you’d been on for days before her voice came through, soft and careful.

“Alright, babe?” she asked. Her tone alone made your chest tighten. You hesitated for a second, swallowing the lump in your throat before replying.

“Yeah… uh, actually a little better. I need to see you to explain.” Your voice was small, weak even, but there was a flicker of resolve in it.

“Okay. Better is good,” Layla said gently, but her concern was palpable. There was a brief pause before she continued, almost sheepishly. “Just wanted to see if you saw that invite come through.” You frowned, confused for a moment before remembering the notification you’d ignored earlier. The invite from Shelby—one of your mutual friends—to a Manchester United end-of-season party. You’d skimmed it, immediately feeling your stomach drop at the thought of Josh possibly being there. “I’ll do what you want,” Layla continued, sensing your hesitation. “I imagine all those lads are going. I don’t want you going, obviously…” She expressed but you cut her off, your voice sharper than intended, you didn’t want to ruin the beginning of her summer.

“Lay, you go. You and Shelbs will have fun. It’s just a big party. I just… I can’t be near—” You paused, your throat tightening at the thought of him. “Josh,” you finally said, his name burning your tongue. “I don’t know… I’m so scared of him, so please just be careful.” You cautioned her. Layla’s inhale was sharp. You could feel her anger brewing through the phone.

“God, I’m so sorry, babe. I fucking hate him. But seriously, do you want me to come be with you tonight? I’m worried. I’m here for you.” She offered sincerely. You closed your eyes, her offer tempting, but you knew what you needed. You needed to stay put.

“No, have fun. I… I…” You stuttered, trying to work up the courage to tell her your plans for the night. “I’m with T. I just need to be with him,” you admitted, your voice cracking as emotions began to resurface.

“Oh…” Layla paused, the shock evident in her tone. “So… you’re with him?” She asked curiously but not judgmentally.

“Yeah.” You sighed, tears stinging your eyes again. “We’re… Or I… I just need to talk to him. Lay, Josh threatened him with a video of us. Somehow he got a video of me and him. It’s a total fucking mess. He said he didn’t hook up with Jess. And I’m terrified, but I just feel safer with him. I can’t go anywhere. I wa- I need to be with him.” You whimpered embarrassed by your dependency on Trent. The ebb and flow of your trust in him was expectedly concerning to your best friend. Layla’s response was immediate, her voice laced with fury.

“Fucking hell. I’ll kill him.” She snapped imaging Josh’s smug look having a video like that in his possession. She paused when she heard your sharp inhale, realizing she needed to rein it in. “I’m sorry. I know. You are safe with Trent, Y/N. Be with him. He loves you.” She cooed. Her words offered some comfort, but you still felt unsteady and she could sense it. “Should I not…” she started, trailing off, you knew she’d not go tonight if you’d prefer that but it wasn’t what you wanted.

“No, no, no,” you interjected quickly. “Please, go. It’s not like it’s his party or something. He can’t control everyone.” Layla nodded even though you couldn’t see her, your words sinking in.

“Okay, but Josh can’t control you either, babe. We’ll handle this. Just be with Trent tonight. Someone who just wants to protect you.” Her voice softened as she reassured you.

“I love you,” you whispered, barely audible.

“Love you. You’re safe, babe. Call me anytime,” Layla said firmly, her support unwavering. When the call ended, the silence in Trent’s room felt deafening, but for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel entirely alone. Layla believed in you. Trent wanted to protect you. Maybe you could start believing in yourself again, too. The call ended, and you stared blankly at your phone, Layla’s words echoing in your mind: ‘You’re safe, babe. Call me anytime.’ The reassurance was meant to soothe you, but it only amplified the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest. You set the phone down on the edge of your bed, your fingers trembling slightly. You could feel the familiar sting of tears creeping back into your eyes, but you closed them tightly, willing yourself to stay composed. It wasn’t working. You leaned forward, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes to stop the flood, but the effort only made the sob that escaped your throat sharper. Everything felt like too much—Josh’s threats, the fear that he still had control, the relief and heartbreak of being with Trent again. It was all tangling inside of you like a knot you couldn’t undo. You got up and made your way to the en-suite of his room in an effort to try to compose yourself before Trent came up for bed.

The room felt heavy and silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. It made the en-suite feel cold, sterile, like it was closing in around you. You sat on the edge of the sink, gripping the porcelain until your knuckles turned white. Your reflection stared back at you, pale and tear-streaked, eyes rimmed red. You barely recognized yourself. But then you noticed the earrings. The tiny gold butterfly pinned on your left ear, and the delicate blue one in your right. They shimmered faintly under the bathroom’s light, and your chest tightened. The earrings had been a gift from Trent, a token of the promise you’d made to each other when your relationship had finally begun. He had chosen them because they reminded him of you—fragile yet strong, beautiful, unique. But also your relationship; this evolving thing. Now, though, they felt like a cruel reminder of what you might lose. Your trembling fingers brushed over the butterflies, your heart aching as memories of that morning came flooding back. The way Trent had looked at you when he gave them to you, his voice soft as he told you how much you meant to him. How special you were. You’d been so happy, so sure that he was your safe place in a world that had hurt you too many times. Now, you didn’t know what to believe. You gripped the butterflies tighter, as if they could ground you. For a moment, you thought about taking them out—ripping away the reminder of everything that had fallen apart. But you couldn’t. Something in you refused to let them go. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was the way Trent had looked at you earlier in the greenhouse, his eyes full of love and regret, like he’d carry the weight of your pain if he could. Or maybe it was the act that you felt like you got a momentary reminder from your mum there that he was good. You let out a shaky breath and placed your hands on the counter, trying to steady yourself. Slowly, you reached for the tap, splashing cold water on your face. The coolness jolted you back to the present, and you let out a deep exhale, watching the water drip down your reflection. The earrings still caught the light. A tiny flicker of beauty in the midst of your heartbreak. You couldn’t let Josh take this from you. You couldn’t let him win. You grabbed a towel and patted your face dry before turning toward the door. Trent would be waiting for you. For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way through this. One fragile step at a time.

That night, as you curled into Trent’s chest, his familiar warmth began to ease the chill that had settled into your bones. His arm was draped securely around you, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your shoulder. The comfort of his touch usually calmed you, but tonight it wasn’t enough. Fear and worry churned in your chest, refusing to let you rest.

“Baby, I’m scared,” you finally whispered, your voice small and trembling. The admission felt heavy, like you were unburdening yourself but also laying bare your vulnerability. Trent’s hand stilled, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I know, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m so sorry I hurt you the other night. I never wanted to.” His apology tugged at your heart, but the knot of fear inside you refused to unravel.

“He’s going to release it, T,” you said, your words barely audible as you tried to steady your breath. “If he finds out about us, he’ll release it.” Trent’s entire body tensed beneath you. His arm around you tightened, his jaw clenched, and you could feel the storm brewing within him. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and brimming with anger.

“I’m gonna fucking kill that lad,” he growled, the words cutting through the quiet room like a blade. “I am fucking fuming. I will fucking kill him. He can’t hurt you. He can’t fucking touch you.” His grip on you grew firmer, not out of aggression but out of his overwhelming need to protect you. Yet, in that moment, the intensity of his voice and the pressure of his hold sent you spiraling. Memories of Josh resurfaced like an unrelenting tide—his hands gripping you too tightly, his voice sharp and cruel, his presence suffocating and inescapable. Your breath hitched, and tears began to spill down your cheeks, hot and relentless. Your chest heaved with silent sobs as your body trembled against Trent’s. “Ah, fuck,” Trent muttered, his voice breaking as he realized what was happening. He immediately loosened his hold, his hands moving to cup your face and pull you back slightly so he could see you. “Fuck, pretty girl. Baby, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “I’m sorry for raising my voice. I didn’t mean to scare you. C’mere. I got you. I got you.” He wrapped you back into his arms, but this time his touch was featherlight, as if he were afraid of breaking you further. He pressed kiss after kiss into your hair, murmuring apologies and reassurances as you sobbed against his chest. “It’s okay,” he cooed, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re safe with me, yeah? I’m here. I’ll always be here.” His words started to sink in, soothing the jagged edges of your fear. The rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear grounded you, steadying your breathing and slowing your tears. “What he’s doing is fucking extortion,” Trent muttered after a moment, his tone calmer but still resolute. “He can’t blackmail us. I’m speaking with Ty first thing. We’ll handle it legally. No one is taking my baby away from me. No one. Not now. Promise.” His words carried a sincerity—a vow that he would protect you at all costs. You sniffled, your face still buried in his chest, and nodded weakly.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Trent said, pulling back just enough to cup your face. His thumbs brushed away the tear tracks on your cheeks as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart ache. “You’re my whole world, Y/N. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I swear it.” You blinked up at him, the sincerity in his eyes anchoring you. His touch, so gentle and steady, reminded you that despite everything, this was the man who loved you unconditionally.

“You promise?” you asked softly, your voice cracking.

“I promise,” Trent said firmly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Always.” You exhaled shakily and let yourself melt into his arms again, his embrace wrapping you in a sense of safety you hadn’t felt in days. Despite the chaos that awaited, in this moment, you knew you weren’t alone but you couldn’t fight back the tears. Josh had hurt you too deeply. You were battered and cruises and the cracks in your resilience were starting to show. You were breaking down.

You buried your face deeper into Trent’s chest, your tears soaking through his shirt as you clung to him like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. His arms wrapped around you firmly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other traced gentle circles on your back. He didn’t speak much more at first, letting you cry. The weight of everything—Josh, the video, the fear, the shame, and even your own complicated feelings about Trent—poured out of you in waves. Each sob tore at his heart. Trent had never felt so helpless. He wanted to take all of it away: the pain, the fear, the scars left by people who should never have been close to you. But he knew he couldn’t. All he could do was hold you through it.

“I’m so sorry,” you whimpered after a long stretch of silence. Your voice was weak and strained, like the words were dragging out pieces of you as they left your mouth.

“Sorry? For what, baby?” Trent asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look at your tear-streaked face, his hands cupping your cheeks. His thumbs wiped away the tears as they fell, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“For… for being like this,” you whispered, ashamed. You couldn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the fabric of his shirt where your tears had left dark stains. “For being such a mess. For making things so hard.” You kept on trying to rationalize your apology, hoping maybe he'd understand.

“Y/N, stop, serious,” he said gently but firmly, tilting your chin up so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. His eyes were glassy, the tears he’d been holding back threatening to spill. “Don’t you ever apologize for feeling. For hurting. For being human. You’re not a mess, pretty girl. You’re my girl. And I love you, okay? All of you. Every single bit.” The sincerity in his voice broke you all over again, and the tears started fresh. Trent pulled you back into his arms, rocking you slightly as he whispered reassurances. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” For a moment, you let yourself believe him. You let yourself trust that someone could hold you through your brokenness, that you didn’t have to hide or pretend. But as the minutes stretched on, the weight of Josh’s threats crept back in, darkening the tiny flicker of hope Trent had sparked in you.

“Baby, no, I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest. “What if Josh does something? I’m serious, what if he releases the video? It would ruin you, T. Your career, your reputation… everything. I don’t know if I could handle that. I don’t want you to lose everything because of me.” Trent’s body tensed beneath you again, and for a moment, you felt the anger radiating off him. But when he spoke, his voice was steady, deliberate.

“Listen to me,” he said, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye again. “I told you. I’m gonna speak with Ty, but besides that… I don’t care about a video. I don’t care about my career, or what people think, or any of that. None of it matters if it means losing you. You hear me? You’re all that matters, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” His words were like a lifeline, but they also scared you. The intensity of his love felt like a double-edged sword—comforting and terrifying all at once. You continued to cry into Trent’s chest. It felt like the fear of Josh ran deeper than his comforting embrace. But then you kissed his neck out of instinct. It was impulse. It was something you’d almost trained yourself to do. So many times you’d been upset in tear and had to put them aside for sex. You began kissing his neck. Trent’s body betrayed him. He felt all the blood rush down to his cock. You were turning him on but he didn’t want you to. He didn’t want you like this. Trent putting his hands on you felt terrifying. He felt like you were glass. He pulled away from you and your heart broke. It was like rejection all over again. Trent studied your face, his heart breaking as he saw the pain written in every inch of you.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I don’t want to hurt you. I need you to understand that.” His words made you freeze. His gaze wasn’t one of anger or frustration—it was pleading, desperate. He wasn’t trying to take anything from you; he was trying to stop you from giving away something you didn’t truly want to share in this moment. Your throat tightened, and a lump of shame built in your chest as the realization hit you. What you were doing wasn’t about love or desire—it was about survival, about falling back into a pattern Josh had ingrained in you. Sex had always been a way to pacify, to distract, to feel needed. Your hands had moved on instinct, exploring Trent as if you could erase the fear in your chest by drawing him closer. “I can’t believe what you’ve been through, baby,” Trent said softly, his voice pulling you out of your spiral. His hands gently caught yours, stopping them in their tracks as he looked into your eyes. “Please. Don’t do this because you think you have to. Not with me.” Trent pleaded, begging you to follow your heart and not your hands exploring him. Your heart shattered. You wanted so badly to bridge the gap between you and him, to feel close to him again. But your mind and your body felt like they were living in two entirely different worlds.

“Please want me,” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes. Your voice cracked, the vulnerability in those three words raw and exposed. You hated how needy you sounded, but it was the truth. You wanted him to want you, to make you feel something other than the numbness that had taken hold of you. Trent’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he hesitated. His love for you was at war with his fear of hurting you, but when he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, he gave in. His lips found yours in a tender kiss, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it was what you needed. But as his hands brushed over your skin, the dense thud in your chest grew heavier. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like him. The love and warmth you always felt when you were with Trent were nowhere to be found. This wasn’t passion; it was a mechanical act, an autopilot response. You were setting him up to take the bait, and he was taking it because he thought it would make you feel better but it felt like he’d lost a game you didn’t want him to even play. Deep down, you both knew this wasn’t what either of you truly wanted. It hurt in a way you couldn’t explain. Trent was nothing like Josh but right now you were acting like he was.

Without another word, Trent had leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was gentle at first, like he was testing the waters, but as soon as you responded, something shifted. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, like he couldn't bear the space between you. Your fingers tangled in his curls, gripping them as your body arched into his. The kiss deepened, no longer hesitant but filled with an urgency that neither of you could contain. It wasn't just desire-it was need. A desperate, unspoken plea to feel something other than the ache that had settled between you. His hands moved with purpose, slipping under your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. His fingers traced your skin like he was memorizing every inch, every curve. You gasped softly against his lips, and he took the sound as encouragement, his touch growing firmer, more confident. The tension in the room didn't dissipate-it lingered, heavy and unresolved-but it was joined by a different kind of intensity. The sadness and fear were still there, woven into the fabric of your movements, but they were eclipsed by the desperate need to be closer. To lose yourselves in each other, even if just for a moment. The air grew thick, filled with the sound of your breathing, the rustle of sheets as Trent shifted to press you further into the mattress. His lips left yours, trailing down your jawline, across your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands explored your body with reverence.

"Tell me you want this," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and strained. "Tell me it's okay."

"I want this," you whispered, your voice shaky but certain. It was all he needed to hear. His lips were back on yours, hungrier this time, his body pressing into yours as if trying to merge you into one. Your hands roamed over his back, his shoulders, pulling him closer, deeper. The friction between you sent sparks through your veins, igniting something that had been smoldering for far too long. But even as things grew more heated, there was an undercurrent of something else. A sadness that neither of you could escape. This wasn't just about passion-it was about holding on. About finding some semblance of connection in the middle of the chaos. Trent continued kissing you, his lips moving with deliberate care as he shifted to hover over you, his large frame blanketing yours. His eyes searched yours, silently asking for reassurance even as his hand gently cupped your cheek. His touch was tender, as though you might bruise beneath the weight of his hands, and yet his need to be close to you was palpable. You didn't trust your voice, so you let your actions speak. Moving on instinct, you reached for the hem of your top, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. Left bare save for the soft fabric of your panties. "Please." You whispered. Your voice was shaky but filled with yearning. Leaning up, you kissed along his jawline, your lips traveling to the warm column of his neck, nuzzling into his skin before you began to suck gently. Trent froze for a moment, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He took a deep breath, conflicted. He wanted to give you everything, but he also didn't want to push you or himself into something too fragile. Yet the way you clung to him, the way you pleaded, left him wondering if maybe this was how you both could heal. Slowly, tentatively, Trent removed his own clothes. His shirt came off, revealing the toned expanse of his chest, and soon the rest of your garments joined the pile on the floor. The cool air kissed your skin, but it was his hands, his lips, his touch that truly burned. Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the firm muscles under your fingertips, the rapid thrum of his heart. Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging gently on the soft curls of his hair. He groaned softly at the sensation, his lips beginning their journey down your neck. He kissed your collarbone, leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake, before traveling lower. When his lips finally closed around your nipple, you let out a desperate moan, arching your back to meet him. The warmth of his mouth, the gentle scrape of his teeth, sent shivers down your spine. His hand cupped your other boob, his fingers playing, pulling, and pinching with just the right amount of pressure. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and filled with emotion, but he didn't stop. He lavished attention on your sensitive skin, his kisses, touches, and the slight rasp of his stubble making you feel electric. You buried your hands in his hair, holding him to you, desperate to keep the connection alive. His hands slid down your sides, rough yet gentle as they traced every curve, as though memorizing every inch of you. When his lips left your chest to continue their descent, you shivered, overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention, the way he worshipped you.

"You okay?" he murmured softly against your skin, his breath warm and ragged. You nodded, biting your lip as tears pricked the corners of your eyes-not from pain but from the sheer vulnerability of it all.

"Just... don't stop," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"I've got you," Trent promised, his voice husky, filled with an emotion that made your heart clench. "I've got you, baby. Tell me you want this.” Trent mumbled against your skin. You nodded with a whine as he lined his cock up with your entrance. Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly begging for him to come inside. He rubbed the tip of his hard cock leaking precum against your sopping wet folds. You shouldn’t have been turned on. In a way this was exactly the way Josh had trained you. Your heart aching, sadness engulfing you, and yet your body acting completely normal, inviting him in with vigor. You shifted beneath him to pick your hips up allowing him to guide himself inside with more ease. He moved slowly inch by inch letting you adjust to his size but he just wanted to get as deep as possible until he bottomed out. You gripped the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself at the stretch. The feeling was enough to wipe your mind clear of anything other than how he was making you feel. As wrong as it was, you both craved this. He kissed down your neck as he pulled out slightly before easing back in slower, fully burying himself one more. “I love you so much.” He whispered. Trent rested his forehead against yours but you couldn’t look at him. You felt like you were going to cry so you kept your eyes shut. Your head tipped back onto the pillow with one hand squeezing your own nipple as Trent kept his strokes steady. You tipped your head back further as his pace became more relentless. Your jaw slack, eyes closed tight.

“I love you.” You whimpered with a sniffle as a tear rolled down your cheek. Trent swallowed, feeling a lump form in his throat. He cupped your cheek wiping away the tear.

“I’m here. Right here.” He murmured. He knew you didn't want to stop. You would’ve been more upset if he did. So you continued on. There was no other noise in the room but the sound of heartbreak and your slickness as he fucked his cock slowly and gently into you. Your legs stayed wrapped around him tightly as you let one of your heels drag down his muscular back, making sure he didn’t pull out but your tears continued falling, your body shaking a little. If anyone else did this he would be confused and probably turned off but he understood you, he understood the lustful desire and unfortunately the aching pain in your chest that he was feeling too. He leaned over you, your tear stained cheeks and heaving chest pressed against him as he continued to fucked you gently. Your pussy dripped around him. Trent could feel the veins running along his cock throbbing. He worked his hips faster, harsher. Both of your pleasure building higher and higher.

“T... I’m… I’m going to cum” You mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name sounding so weak from your softly parted lips. He groaned, feeling himself barreling close to his own release though from the way you were squeezing his cock now. Your body succumbing to pure euphoria and seeing white. He bit down onto your shoulder, his pace growing sloppy.

“Cum for me baby. Doing so good for me.” he cooed, nipping at your collarbone. You whined and felt your eyes roll back as you reached your high. Your pussy quivered around him. Every little shift was orgasmic. You couldn’t hold in the soft whiny cry you let out. Your lips parted, biting the skin of his neck. Your pussy was sopping wet now, the slow and intense movements had you gushing all over him. The sex was so tender and sweet yet equally sad. “Gonna cum, yeah? That okay?” He asked you through a strained voice as you held onto him. You could only nod again, tears reappearing, toes curled before everything went white, falling apart. Despite the emotional turmoil, he felt so good and you didn’t want him to pull out. This felt too good. His thrusts began to slow as he buried himself deeper inside you. He gripped you so tightly, holding you completely flush against him. Stilling as his warm cum pumped deep inside of you. His hands rubbed your trembling slightly sweaty body in the softest way. He kissed you everywhere he could. You just stayed tight to him refusing to break away. “You alright, baby?” Trent whispered, his voice soft and full of concern as he hovered over you. His fingers brushed your cheek gently, his thumb catching a stray tear. His dark eyes searched your face, taking in every detail—the way your cheeks were flushed, your lips trembling, and your eyes squeezed tightly shut, as if holding back a flood. You nodded quickly, unable to trust yourself to speak. Your throat felt tight, and you knew that if you tried to answer him, your voice would crack, betraying just how fragile you felt in this moment. The weight of everything—of your past, your pain, and the overwhelming tenderness of the man above you—pressed against your chest. Trent’s brow furrowed, his concern deepening as he leaned closer. “Baby,” he urged gently, his warm breath fanning over your face. Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, you reached up, your fingers curling around his wrist as his hand remained on your cheek. It was your silent plea to stay close, to not pull away. “I’m right here,” he reassured you, his voice cracking slightly with the weight of his own emotions. His thumb continued to stroke your cheek, grounding you. “I’ve got you, yeah? Always.” Your breath hitched, a fresh wave of tears slipping from your closed eyes. You hated feeling this vulnerable, hated that you couldn’t hide the rawness inside you, but Trent’s presence made it bearable. His love wrapped around you like a shield, softening the sharp edges of your fear and sadness. Finally, you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. His expression was so full of love and patience that it broke something inside you.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, your voice barely audible but nonetheless broken. Trent stayed on top of you, his weight grounding you even as the guilt began to creep in. His breathing was still heavy, matching yours, and his curls tickled your skin as he rested his face between your boobs, his warm breath fanning over your damp skin. The room was quiet save for the sound of your heartbeats slowing, the intensity of the moment dissipating into an uncomfortable stillness. Neither of you spoke any more after your vacant apology. There were no words for the complicated knot of emotions tightening in your chest. For a while, you simply lay there, your fingers brushing lightly through his hair, but even that small gesture felt hollow. It wasn't comfort. It wasn't resolution. Eventually, Trent stirred, his lips brushing against your collarbone in a fleeting touch. He lifted his head slowly, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite name-sadness, maybe, or regret. Without a word, he shifted, carefully pulling out of you, his body leaving yours cold in the absence of his warmth. The air completely sucked out of the room. He rolled off of you and onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The weight of everything hung heavy in the room, pressing down on both of you, suffocating in its intensity. The physical high you'd just shared only amplified the emotional low settling between you. You turned your head to look at him, your eyes scanning his profile-the way his jaw clenched, the way his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. He looked as though he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to.

"T," you whispered, your voice soft but strained. He didn't respond right away. His hand came up to rub over his face, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"I'm so sorry." He murmured into the empty silence of the dark room.

"For what?" you asked, your own guilt weighing heavily on you.

"For... this," he said, gesturing vaguely between you but he didn’t turn his head towards you, his gaze stayed fixated on the ceiling. "For not stopping. For letting it happen when I knew... when I knew it wasn't what you needed right now." He sheepishly told you. Your heart ached at his words because they felt true, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to regret it fully. He was not Josh, he didn’t want what just happened. Not like that. It felt wrong. Josh relished in using you for sex to rectify problems, to act like he cared, but all you did was just create a new one with Trent. He was hurting.

"I asked for it, T. I wanted it." You earnestly told him. That was true. You did want it, but why and what for, was a glaringly obvious reg flag. A remnant of Josh’s disgusting conditioning. The only way he could possibly love you was if you fucked hin, and so you did the same with Trent. It was fucked up. You watched him blink a few times, his perfectly curled dark eyelashes batting away what you prayed wasn’t the build up of tears. Even though he wouldn’t turn to look at you, you could still perfectly make out that his eyes were filled with turmoil.

"But did you need it? Did it help, or did it just... make things worse?" He asked you pleadingly. He knew you wanted to have sex with him. It wasn’t about the consent of the act but rather the consciousness of it. The question hung in the air, and you didn't have an answer. You both laid there with the other, the silence between you louder than any words could be. Neither of you could shake the feeling that you'd both taken a step further away from the connection you were trying so hard to hold onto. The room fell silent for a long while after that. Trent lay motionless, his chest rising and falling unevenly as his mind raced. The dim light cast shadows on the ceiling, but his eyes were unable to focus. He couldn’t wrap his head around the blur between the physical sensations still humming through his body and the weight of the emotional aftermath sinking into his heart. He couldn't reconcile it-how his body could feel one thing, while his heart ached with the opposite. His arms rested limply at his sides, too heavy to move. The thin sheen of sweat cooling on his skin only made him feel exposed, raw. Tears welled in your eyes, and you turned your head away momentarily, unable to look at him anymore. You felt defeated, ashamed, and more alone than ever-even with him right next to you.

"T.." Your voice broke through the thick silence once over, soft but trembling. He hummed in response, his throat dry. But he didn't turn his head to look at you still. He couldn't not yet. Guilt clawed at his chest, despite everything. You asked for this yet it felt cold. You wanted it. He hadn't forced you-but why did it feel like he'd done something wrong? "Did you love her?" you whispered, your voice so small it almost disappeared into the air between you. The question hit him like a blow. He blinked, the ceiling above him suddenly too sharp, too vivid. He exhaled sharply but still didn't meet your gaze. His lips parted, but no words came out at first. Not because he didn't have an answer, but because he was overwhelmed-confused, emotional, and drowning in a wave of guilt and frustration. You couldn't stop yourself. You stared at him, inspecting every detail of his face. The way his bottom lip hung slightly gaped from the top, the tense line of his jaw, the crease in his brow. He laid there feeling hollow despite his best efforts to help. You needed to understand him, to break past the wall he seemed to be building in this silence. The insecurity was clawing at your insides, threatening to consume you. Your past haunted you and right now it was seeping into your present. The way Josh had rewired you to think all men were, had you fearing Jess. She was the ghost in the room you couldn't escape. All you could think about was her-her presence in Trent's life before you, the ways she might have had touched him, been with him, loved him. You hated it. Your thoughts spiraled into a desperate need to prove yourself to him, to make him see why you were different. Why you were better. You'd done everything-fought for him, forgiven him, fucked him, even begged him. You wanted to show him that you would do anything for him. But now, as you lay beside him, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. The act that was supposed to bring you closer had only widened the gap, leaving both of you in the cold. This was new to you because this time, the man next to you in bed truly cared. Finally, Trent turned his head to look at you. His eyes were red-rimmed, a storm of emotions swirling in them-confusion, sorrow, regret.

“Never.” Trent finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, the only other sound were the sheets shifting beneath you pillowing his words. He cupped your cheek and made you look at him, really look at him. Trent’s hand stilled on your cheek as your words lingered in the air, cutting through the fragile peace between you. His chest rose sharply with a deep, steadying breath, but the storm brewing behind his soft brown eyes betrayed him. “Not even close,” he repeated, his voice firm but strained, as if clinging desperately to the truth of his feelings. His thumb brushed against your skin, grounding himself in the contact, but you could feel the tension in his hold—the way he was barely keeping it together. “Look at me,” he whispered, tilting your face gently so your eyes met his. The weight of his gaze made it impossible to retreat further, even though every instinct told you to. You wanted to hide, to shield yourself from how raw, how real this moment was becoming. But in a moment of vulnerability… you felt yourself pull away from him. You knew Trent was different. This was different. You couldn’t fix things or gain anything by using sex as a bandaid like you did with Josh, not when real feelings were at play and so the only thing you could do was set it on fire in an effort to protect yourself.

“Did you ever think that maybe… maybe we shouldn’t be together?” you asked, the words falling from your lips without forethought, sayinging something you didn’t even think about. It wasn’t what you wanted to say. It wasn’t what you felt deep down. But it was easier to let those words fill the space than to confront the fear twisting inside you. Trent flinched as if you’d struck him. His blood going ice cold. He didn’t know how to convince you this was right when in the moment you were making it feel so very wrong. You were hurting but now so was he. Trent really thought when he just turned to look at you things would be better, not worse. It was quiet. The silence of the room was deafening. His hand faltered for a moment before settling back on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant.

“Why would you say that?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the heavy stillness in the room. You swallowed hard, your throat burning with unshed tears. His jaw tightened and he shut his eyes and you watched his eyelashes lay on his cheek for a moment longer than comfortable, shielding himself from the hurt; as if he was bracing for impact and so you took the final blow.

“You said you didn’t want to take advantage…” you whispered, your voice cracking. It wasn’t what you meant, not really, but you knew the weight of those words would land, and you hated yourself for using them. You didn’t mean it but you knew what you were doing. You didn’t know why you were doing it but it was happening nevertheless. You were letting this relationship go up in flames with an ease you loathed. An ease Josh made you have and now you were letting the flames engulf Trent with you. Trent’s eyes snapped open, wide and glassy with disbelief. He searched your face as if trying to find some hint that you didn’t mean it, that this was all a misunderstanding. The weight of the night settled heavily between you. It was unbearable, suffocating, like the air had been vacuumed out of the room. You both laid completely still. You felt like you were tearing down the house you’d built together—stripping it bare, brick by brick, without even meaning to. Ripping the walls out, slashing the pipes and yet only his silence and heartbeat made a sound. There was no shouting, no anger, no big crash. Just the quiet dismantling of something fragile, something that felt too precious to lose but too painful to hold onto in the moment. His silence pierced through you, and yet, it wasn’t cold—it was sorrowful, the kind of quiet that spoke volumes about his own inner turmoil. Trent's hand, which had dropped to rest on your arm, tightened slightly on your arm, his heart aching at the sound of your pain.

“If you feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” Trent finally whispered, his voice raw and achingly soft, “if you feel like I’m in control of this in a way that you’re not… we can’t do this. I won’t.” His hand on you withdrew slowly. It wasn’t harsh, but it left a hollow ache in its absence, as though he were pulling back to keep from causing more damage. There it was. The white flag you indirectly and subconsciously pushed him to raise. He was defeated. He couldn’t win. He felt powerless. He felt so awkward. Like if he touched you again it would change your perspective but if he didn’t it would do just the same. You had dismantled something so quietly, so swiftly. He exhaled deeply, his breath shaky, like he was trying to keep himself from crumbling entirely. It felt like there were worlds between you to now, when in reality it was mere inches but as the night engulfed the room, Trent moved from facing you onto his back creating a distance that felt like something you may never be able to close. Trent’s words hung in the air like the faint echo of a storm, their quiet weight pressing down on you as he pulled away. The warmth of his hand left your skin, replaced by an emptiness that seemed to seep into the space between you. His quiet resolve settled over the room like a suffocating blanket. You had spent so long trying to survive, to appease, to navigate a world where love meant control and touch often felt like an obligation. And yet, here he was—letting you go, even if it broke him. Trent’s restraint wasn’t rejection; it was love. It was understanding. But it hurt all the same.

“I’ve only ever been in love once… I’ll only ever be in love once. And that’s with you.” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. His voice cracked slightly, and the sound shattered you. Your heart clenched painfully at his confession. The vulnerability in his words was unbearable, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. You stared at his profile, the way his lashes rested against his cheek when he blinked, the tension in his jaw as he tried to steady himself. “Just… take your time,” he added, his voice quieter now, almost inaudible. And then, with the finality of someone who had resigned themselves to the pain, he rolled over, his head resting on his pillow. You watched him, the way he clutched the pillow beneath his head as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His back was to you now, and it felt like a wall you couldn’t scale, no matter how much you wanted to reach for him. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered again, so softly you weren’t sure if it was meant for you or for himself. His words hung in the air, heavy and unresolved, as the night overtook the room. Trent wasn’t like Josh. He wasn’t trying to control you or force you into anything. But in that moment, the weight of your past, the weight of your fears, was too much for either of you to carry alone. And as he lay there, quiet and still, you realized just how much you had both been hurt in ways neither of you fully knew how to heal. You watched the way his shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath, steady but strained. It wasn’t just awkwardness you felt—it was guilt, raw and biting, clawing at your chest. You wanted to speak, to reassure him, to take back the words you didn’t even mean, but your throat felt like it had closed up.in an effort to save yourself you had somehow managed to cut off the only thing that was keeping you alive. Trent had let you go, the chasm in the bed now was too much to breach. The silence between you was deafening, punctuated only by the faint sounds of the night filtering in through the window. It was strange how a room could feel so full of unspoken emotions yet so achingly empty at the same time.

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room that felt at odds with the tension between you. The quiet was almost suffocating, the kind of silence that held so much unsaid. Despite the turmoil of the night before, your bodies had instinctively found each other, seeking comfort in a way words couldn’t offer. You’d spent hours wrapped around one another, as if letting go would mean accepting what neither of you wanted to face. Trent’s arms had stayed around you, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, grounding you even as your mind raced. The morning finally had arrived, it felt like an unspoken truce, a shared understanding that this moment, however fleeting, couldn’t last. You stayed in bed longer than usual, the weight of reality pressing down on both of you. Trent’s fingers traced absent patterns on your arm, and neither of you spoke, afraid to shatter the fragile peace. When you finally sat up, the loss of his touch was immediate and jarring.

Getting dressed felt mechanical. Each movement slow and deliberate, as if prolonging the inevitable goodbye. By the time you made your way downstairs, the air between you had shifted. You could feel his eyes on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet them. At the door, you hesitated, your hand resting on the handle. Your throat was tight, the words you wanted to say lodged somewhere deep inside.

“T…” you whispered, your voice trembling. He was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tight. He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on a spot just beyond you. It wasn’t that he didn’t hear you—he was trying to hold himself together, to keep from begging you to stay, from saying something that might push you further away. When he finally looked at you, his eyes were heavy with emotion.

“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag.

“I… I just want to say thank you. For… for last night.” Your voice cracked, and you looked away, your own emotions threatening to overwhelm you. It was all you could say. What had transpired last night couldn’t be encapsulated in a sentence or two. Your feelings for him, the hurt you felt would fill volumes and so you settled for a thank you. Trent shifted, his body tensing as if he was fighting every instinct to close the space between you.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness. “I just… I just want you to be okay.” You nodded, your eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“I don’t know what okay looks like right now,” you admitted, your voice breaking. He took a cautious step towards you.

“I know, pretty girl,” he replied, his words careful, measured. The pet name hurt. He sympathetically smiled at you but it was insincere. His heart was in pieces, shattered on the floor right next to yours. “But you know I’m here, right? No matter what… I’m here.” His words broke something in you, and you glanced back at him, finally meeting his eyes. He was being mature and understanding and it hurt. The depth of his care, his pain, and his love was laid bare, and it was almost too much to bear.

“I know,” you whispered, tears welled up in your eyes, ready to spill over. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to be loved like this. I’m just so sorry I’m hard to love,” you confessed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “I don’t know how to feel safe and not push you away when I do.” You whimpered as the tears slipped down your cheeks. Trent’s jaw tightened, his heart breaking as he watched you crumble in front of him. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, before pulling you into him. His arms enveloped you, one circling your waist while the other cradled the back of your head. You pressed your face into his chest, your tears dampening his shirt but he didn’t care, not one bit. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to transfer every ounce of his love and reassurance.

“You are the easiest girl to love, pretty girl. And I will love you in whatever way and any way you need me to love you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. His grip tightened slightly, as though he was memorizing the feel of you in his arms, just in case it would be the last time. “Forever, it’s you,” he murmured, his words so soft they were almost lost in the quiet of the room. “Just please know that will never change, no matter what you decide you want.” Your breath hitched and you sobbed into his chest, overwhelmed by his words, by the way he loved you so unconditionally.

“I love you,” you whimpered, the words breaking as they left your lips. He closed his eyes, his own tears threatening to fall as he held you.

“I know, baby. I know,” he whispered back, rocking you gently as you cried. “And that’s enough for me.”

The house was alive with chaos—a sea of bodies swaying to deafening music, flashing lights bouncing off the walls in a kaleidoscope of color. Conversations were drowned out by the thrum of bass, laughter spilling over in waves as the party hit its peak. Layla stood in the center of it all, a drink in hand, but her focus was fractured. Her chest felt tight, as if a weight pressed against it, the absence of you palpable. You weren’t here, and while you’d told her to have fun, it didn’t feel right. Still, she pushed through. You needed her to, even if she didn’t fully understand why. Fifteen songs later and five drinks deeper, Layla felt the alcohol warm her insides, dulling some of her guilt but sharpening her resolve. She scanned the room, her sharp eyes skipping over familiar faces until they landed on Devon, standing by the edge of the kitchen, drink in hand, smirking as he caught her gaze. Josh wasn’t here yet—or at least, she hadn’t spotted him—but Devon would have to do. He was Josh’s friend, and as much as Layla disliked him by association, he was her best shot at getting answers. He was handsome, she was hot, they’d met a few times before and maybe there might’ve been some chemistry there but really there was only one reason driving Layla that night. She didn’t trust him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use him.

Their banter had started easily enough, a few playful comments traded back and forth. Devon leaned in close, his lips hovering near her ear as if he had to compete with the music, but Layla knew it was more than that. He was testing the waters, his hand brushing hers just lightly enough to be suggestive.

“I think we’re crossing enemy lines here,” he teased, his voice low and full of charm. Layla smirked, meeting his gaze with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel.

“I’ll cross any line you want,” she whispered, leaning in close, her breath warm against his cheek. “But let me borrow your phone first. I just need to text my friend before we leave.” Devon blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but the bait was too tempting to resist. He handed over his phone without hesitation, his smirk deepening.

“Make it quick, yeah?” he said, his tone dripping with suggestion. Layla turned on her heel, spinning away with a flirtatious glance over her shoulder. Devon’s gaze stayed glued to her as she made her way toward the hallway, phone in hand, pretending to type. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her, but as soon as she rounded the corner, her facade dropped. Her fingers moved swiftly, navigating his phone with practiced ease. She scrolled through messages, DMs, and photos, her heart pounding in her chest as she searched for anything—any hint, any clue that could tie Devon or Josh to what had happened to you. She dug deeper and deeper, her frustration mounting as nothing turned up. She huffed, leaning against the wall. The blue light of the phone screen illuminated her features in the dark hallway, casting shadows under her eyes that betrayed her exhaustion. Layla was starting to second-guess her plan as the party raged around her. The house felt suffocating, the music thundering through her chest as if it was synced to her racing heartbeat. Layla was so invested in her hunt she barely noticed Devon coming to lean lazily against the wall beside her, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched her hold his phone.

“You find what you’re looking for, or are you just trying to steal my playlist?” he teased, his voice low and laced with amusement. Layla forced a playful laugh, flipping her hair over her shoulder to buy herself a moment. Her fingers worked quickly, scrolling out of his apps and messages, trying to stay one step ahead of Devon’s curiosity.

“I’m just making sure you’re not boring,” she shot back, her tone teasing but with a slight edge of distraction. Devon raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Trust me, babe, I’m anything but boring.” He cooed. Layla ignored his cocky response. Devon noticed her change in demeanor, his smirk fading as he pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “You alright?” he asked, his tone shifting slightly to one of genuine concern. Layla forced a smile again and handed his back to him as casually as she could.

“Just had to make sure my girls know I’m with you. Don’t want them thinking I’ve disappeared.” She cooed, turning into him. Devon grinned, clearly pleased with her response.

“Disappeared, huh? I’ll make sure you stay right where I can see you.” He leaned into her pinching at her waist. She giggled swatting at his hand with a sloppy smile. Maybe it was the alcohol, but a part of her kind of wanted to actually go home with Devon. She didn’t find anything incriminating, he was sort of sweet and definitely handsome. Her mind was racing though, the threads were unraveling, but the knot at the center was still tied too tightly. She needed to find out more. She was committed for you… and maybe there was a little bit in it for her now. So she played along, laughing at Devon’s jokes and letting him guide her through the crowded house. Her focus drifting from being laser-sharp, every glance, every word a calculated move with intent to something a bit looser. She’d come here for answers, and she knew Devon had to know something so maybe spending a little more time with him wouldn’t hurt.

The soft hum of Devon’s snores filled the dimly lit bedroom. Layla sat up slowly, careful not to disturb him, and slipped his phone from the bedside table. Her pulse quickened as she padded to the en-suite bathroom, the door creaking slightly as she shut it behind her. She pressed her back to the wall and sank to the floor with a deep breath. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the phone. Devon had been easy to charm, he actually wasn’t so bad, nice in fact, but what she held in her hand right now would tell her the harsh reality, what he really knew.

The room was dark, the blue light burning her eyes as she scrolled in Devon’s phone, sat on the floor. Scrolling through his messages again Layla’s breath became unsteady, uneven. Her pulse quickened as she skimmed through group chats and threads. Still, there was nothing that immediately jumped out as damning. She finally decided to go back to Devon’s messages with Josh, her hands trembling slightly. The messages were cryptic as she delved deeper. It felt like she was missing something, a part of their puzzle, so she continued to scroll. She almost didn’t want to find more context, even the thought made her stomach churn but she had to do this. Her grip tightened on the phone as she scrolled faster, reading more and more messages. Her eyes darted over the screen, piecing together fragments of a conversation.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. But just as she was about to give up, something caught her eye—an attachment buried deep in their thread of texts. Layla’s vision blurred with anger and panic. She shut her eyes tight. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest. There it was: a screenshot of an Instagram DM from Jess to Josh, and then, her stomach dropped—the video attached. The video of you. You, on your knees for Trent, vulnerable in a way that made Layla’s blood run cold. She felt sick. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling the gasp that escaped her lips as tears stung her eyes. The room felt heavier than the silence that followed. Layla sat with her knees pulled to her chest, the dim blue light of the phone casting ghostly shadows on her face. She couldn’t stop trembling. The weight of what she’d seen, and what it meant, pressed down on her like a tidal wave.

“You really are interested in my phone, huh? Find anything good?” Devon’s tired voice shattered the silence, making her jump. Layla turned, looking up at him, fumbling the phone as she tried to recover.

“Fuck… I was just—” She stumbled out words. Devon leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching her with an expression that was far too calm for her liking. He had a sleepy smile that was handsome but it couldn’t mask what was on his phone.

“You find that screenshot of the video Jess sent?” he asked, his tone softer than she expected. He smirked but not smugly. He smirked in a way that was sympathetic. His eyebrows raised as if he himself couldn’t even believe he had seen what she sent. He assumed that's what she was looking for. It was really the only thing that tied him and Layla together. The only reason they knew one another. Layla’s jaw dropped in surprise though that he knew it existed at all and still had the audacity to try to be with her.

“So Jess actually sent that... and you've seen it?” Layla asked again, her voice cracking. She needed him to confirm it—needed him to say it out loud so it felt real. Devon sighed, running a hand over his hair, his expression torn between guilt and discomfort. He shrugged, sliding down the wall to sit beside her.

“I haven't seen it, no. But. yeah… she sent it to Josh. I don’t know why. Guess she wanted to stir shit up.” He cooed gently looking only at Layla, not his phone that she currently was planning on holding ransom until she got answers. Layla glared at him, her chest heaving with frustration.

“You’re lying.” Her voice wavered, sharp and accusing.

“Look, baby, I don’t know what’s going on there, but I’m keeping my hands clean. I don’t want any part of it.” Devon tried to explain his arm reaching out towards her knee but Layla winced at the pet name. Her eyes narrowed, her anger bubbling over.

“Well, you are playing a part, Devon. You know Josh has that video—of Y/N and Trent, two people in a relationship, in love—and he’s using it to blackmail them. That makes you complicit.” She harshly bit back. He paused for a moment. He didn’t know you and Trent were a couple, let alone in love. He saw you at dinner once, but people go on dates all the time. The only things he heard were from Josh’s perspective. And in his opinion you weren’t allowed to be with Trent. In fact, you wanted Josh instead.

“I didn’t know they were properly together,” Devon muttered, his voice quieter now, guilt flashing across his face.

“They shouldn’t have to be,” Layla snapped, shoving the phone back into his hands. Her tears were threatening to spill over now, her emotions a tangled mess of fury and heartbreak. “And they fucking can’t be if he has this. This is fucked up, Devon. You’re letting him ruin someone’s life, and you just sit back like it’s nothing? I don’t understand how you can be okay with that.” She whimpered. Devon winced, the weight of her words visibly sinking in. He leaned back against the cold wall, his hands rubbing his face.

“Fuck… I’m sorry. You’re right,” he whispered finally. Layla sniffled trying to keep herself together. She was aching for you. “I should’ve done something, stopped it. I just… I didn’t want to get involved. It’s Josh, you know? I mean yeah, I see him a lot, were on the same squad but I try not to fuck with him too much.” Devon weakly tried to explain. Layla’s tears started to spill, her voice growing more impassioned.

“She’s my best friend, Devon! Do you even understand what this is doing to her? He’s blackmailing her. That video—it’s not just some stupid gossip. It could ruin everything for them… For Trent. And you’re just sitting here pretending like you’re not part of it? Like imagine if someone had a video of you and sent it to the fucking media… Because that's what he's doing. People's private relationship being broadcasted publicly and used to hurt them. Imagine what they feel right now that people like you even have fucking screenshots of this.” Layla yelped with a little more force. Devon sat still, the seriousness of her words bearing down on him.

“I… I didn’t know it was like that. I didn’t think about it that way,” he said softly. Layla’s comment had landed. Devon felt stupid. He didn’t really know nor care for Trent, they played for rival clubs too after all, but the sentiment still stood. He understood this wasn't the little tiff he dubbed it to be before. He realized what Josh was threatening Trent with. “I thought it was just… I don’t know, some drama between exes that didn’t involve me. I didn’t… I didn’t think of how damaging it could be.” Devon spoke earnestly.

“It is,” Layla shot back, wiping her tears angrily. “And if you care at all…” She shook her head and took a deep breath attempting to compose herself. “You know, maybe about me.” She said unexpectedly to even herself. Maybe she had developed more feelings for Devon then she realized or maybe she was using it as leverage- she couldn't decide but she didn’t care, that wasn't the focus right now. You were. “Or just being a fucking good person and do the right thing, you need to help me fix this.” She pleaded. Devon looked at her, his liable gaze meeting her hurt one. For a moment, it was just the two of them illuminated only by the dim phone screen, the air between them thick with tension. “Devon, you know he hurt her right?” she looked at him curiously. Devon’s eyes narrowed. He looked confused and a part of Layla prayed it was honest innocence. She hoped maybe Devon wasn’t bad. That this was an indiscretion and he was nothing like Josh. If he knew, she could never forgive him. In fact, she’d kill him. “He abused her. The way he spoke to her… Fuck! The texts I’d see that he’d send her. She’d have cuts and bruises all the time… Did you know that?” Layla weakly asked him as tears coursed down her cheeks.

“No.” Devon responded flatly. He swallowed feeling sick. He didn’t know any of that. He shut his eyes for a moment and then cleared his throat. “He can’t do that. I’m so sorry. What do you want me to do? What can I do, Layla?” He asked finally, his voice resigned but sincere. Layla straightened, her jaw tight as she wiped the last of her tears.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 23 xx

#trent alexander arnold #Trent Alexander Arnold x reader #alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #fie fic #Movie Night Fic

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 2 days ago

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krisis giving you pet names

ofc they'd call you whatever you prefer but these would be their go-tos. technically not a part of the what you call them series but i wouldn’t be opposed to a krisis and what they call you post

there's some french in here. i'm pretty sure the genders in the language are just grammatical, so it should apply to all reader genders/be gender neutral as usual. thanks to my mystake friend for the help, but if there's any errors let me know xx

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, slightly possessive language in vanta's entry, french pet names + translations, pda, brief suggestive content, a bit of gender in vanta's entry but it should still apply to everyone regardless of gender

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🧻 Vezalius Bandage

his affectionate names are smooth as hell

they roll off the tongue easily and confidently

most of the time it's an interjection in his sentences, so casual you almost don't register it

"it will take about half an hour to get there, mon beauté, so let's leave in fifteen minutes"

"i'm sorry what"

"did i say something, beauty?"

he likes saying pet names offhandedly so he can play innocent

especially since he jumps between the french pronunciation beauté and the english form beauty often to keep you on your toes

if you're taken aback by them he becomes even more of a tease, and won't let up until you admit you like it

when zali's feeling a lot more romantic he'll call you love

it's reserved for late nights, moments of vulnerability, when he can't hold back his feelings

love is rare, but it just makes it all the sweeter to hear. it's always the first thing you hear when you reunite with him after a trip

he likes to call you love when he’s on top of you

and when he's underneath instead, you become my love

when someone’s being mischievous bunny makes an appearance

expect to hear it whenever you're playfully bickering, playing footsie, whatever

whenever you steal food from zali's plate you jokingly call it "the bunny tax"

"hey, don't take my fries."

"it's the bunny tax."

"you have your own rabbit food, though—

"wait, bunny, you're still eating mine!"

another casual name for you is tresór

when you're spending a social evening with friends together, once the party's winding down, he'll lean in closer to you and whisper, "tresór, would you like to go home?"

"mm, kinda."

"let's get you there, then."

"yeah..."

one of your mutual friends notices you and zali whispering together. "something the matter?"

"oh, don't worry, my treasure is just a bit tired." you and zali bid everyone goodbye, even though you feel a little fuzzy at zali just saying the english translation of your name for everyone to hear

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🔪 Vantacrow Bringer

he’s not exactly clingy but he loves mentioning your relationship

so instead of a pet name, he usually calls you my reader

it's because he loves saying your name

yet he loves reminding everyone who you belong to

when he talks about you you’re almost always my man, my girl, my baby, that one’s mine

despite that he’s not immune to it himself

when you call him mine it’s like cupid picked up a sniper rifle

his brain fully short circuits

he lets slip a wide-eyed "wait, i'm yours?"

and when you confirm it, heart-eyed. he giggles. "that means you're mine too."

vanta isn't very creative with pet names, so baby is his go-to

he knows it's kind of a "basic" name but that's the reason he likes it

it's so easy to insert it into conversation!

and everyone knows what you mean to him the second he calls you baby

besides, the real reason he says it is so he can call you my baby

and in moments of warmth, darling

he just has this suave, sultry intonation when he calls you darling, like the r&b songs he likes to sing

if you show ANY weakness he WILL use that whenever he wants to persuade you

"darling, can we buy this?"

"darling, i want that..."

"but my darling, it would make me so happy."

do NOT be convinced otherwise, this man WILL beg and plead the second he gets an opening

despite that he really does want to spoil his significant other

so when he feels most intimate, he wants to treat you like royalty

you're his sweet prince. his little princess. he'll even call you his royal highness

and sure, it's a little corny when you put it like that, but he tries to make sure the tenderness of the moment outweighs how much of a cheeseball he is at heart

the best part is how reverent he says it

you really are the ruler of his heart as a prince, a princess

your royal highness doesn't even begin to cover it how whipped he is for you

like a knight to a ruler he's always at your royal highness' beck and call, and he knows it

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🥽 Yu Q. Wilson

getting pet names from this guy is rare

he’s easily flustered by them… he rarely goes for pda

even when you’re alone he refers to you by your name just because it's comfortable

which means his cheeks always glow pink whenever he calls you honey

it's hard to slip honey into bickering so it only comes out when he's feeling romantic

and then willy gets flustered by THAT so it always comes out like

"just stay with me for now. h-honey."

out of all the krisis guys he's the shyest about being cute and affectionate

which is hilarious because everything he feels about you is cute...

and affectionate...

more casual than honey is sweetie

you become sweetie whenever he wants your attention, relaxed, or in some cases, whenever he's getting frustrated

at first it seems like it might be sarcastic or biting whenever he calls you sweetie during an argument

"sorry, it's—i'm gonna say it. it's what you mean to me, alright?" he admits once you've both cooled down and talked it out. "i call you sweetie because i don't want to forget how important you are to me even when i'm getting all—"

he gestures wildly, struggling to think of the words without calling himself a dickhead. "i only get pissed off in the moment. i like how calling you that reminds me that i should be paying attention to your feelings, too."

during lighthearted bickering, though, he'll call you cutie!

you're a cutie whenever you make him laugh

yes, you can tell willy has a thing for nicknames that end in syrupy "y" sounds

yes, you can tease him over that too, cutie, and figure out what makes him call you honey or sweetie instead while you're getting him all blushy

he just wants to call you the most adorable things, it just makes sense

it's even harder for him to admit this too, but he kind of likes the feeling of a Super Cool Guy™️ like him using sappy pet names, it's a little embarrassing...

still pales in comparison to what he calls you in french: mon petit chou chou

it's a very old-fashioned name, and it doesn't even have a good translation in english

whenever he calls you mon petit chou chou, you can always call him my little cabbage cabbage in return to mess with him

there aren't even petits choux in canada??

he doesn't even eat petits choux????

doesn't change the fact that whenever he speaks french, you can't understand most of what he's saying, but nothing perks you up like hearing him mention petit chou

he still hasn't realized his chou chou is always on his mind no matter the language

but man, can you hear it in his voice

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

#vezalius bandage #vezalius bandage x reader #vantacrow bringer #vantacrow bringer x reader #yu q. wilson #yu q. wilson x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #krisis #krisis x reader #nijisanji krisis #4402 writes #vezalius bandage fluff #vantacrow bringer fluff #yu q. wilson fluff

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eatmeandbirthmeagain · 20 hours ago

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С Hello, hello, dear author, I am so addicted to your works that I can fully say that you are simply the best writer I have ever seen, I simply melt from your works related to Baldwin,Seriously!I would like to read something sad, so I would like to ask you to write something sad, where Baldwin and Y/N They are married, everything is fine with them, but one day Y/n became terribly ill with some kind of disease,it soon becomes clear that this is a dangerous disease and unfortunately Y/n dies, and Baldwin is saddened and broken.

)(English is not my native language, so I apologize for the mistakes and thank you in advance author!)!!

♧ Everything Is Worse Now - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello dear Sevina!! I am so greatful for your support and your such kind words, you have no idea how much they mean to me🫶. Thank you so much for this beautiful and sad request, it was a pleasure to write and I hope you enjoy it!! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

P.S. Im sorry this is so short, I wanted it to be more like a uhh poem kind of I guess?? Like short and sweet yk?? Idk if I'm making any sence but I hope you all enjoy!! Also SORRY FOR ALL THE ANGST. Next one will be fluffy I prommise 😭😭

TW: Death, Disease, Leprosy, Not a happy ending

It was an abnormally cold evening when it began.

The queen's condition had been faltering for a few days now, but she merely brushed it off as fatigue. Things had been stressful with the threat of invasion any day now, it was only natural to feel exhausted at times such as these.

Nevertheless, the young king was deeply concerned about his wife.

“Please my love, I need you to see one of my physicians. It could be serious-”

“Darling, I can assure you that I am perfectly fine. Truely, there is no need to fret, you have enough to be worried about. Please don't let my condition weigh on your mind” she had told him, taking his hands in hers with that gentle firmness that he so adored.

It only became worse from there. Baldwin had been attending a meeting when he received news that y/n had collapsed while walking the gardens.

He abandoned the meeting in a second and used every ounce of his strength to climb the stairs to the royal chambers where he was met with the horrific sight of his beautiful wife, pale and weak, laying atop their shared bed with physicians working at her side.

He staggered to her side, about to collapse himself, and took her hand pressing it to the cool metal of his mask.

The familiar sensation caused y/n to open her eyes to look at her husband.

She smiled weakly.

“Perhaps I should have been checked out sooner hm?” she chuckled.

Baldwin couldn't help but smile sadly. Even in the darkest times she always managed to make him smile.

Naturally, the young king assumed the worst possible scenario: That his vile disease had been passed to his beautiful wife.

He could barely think of the possibility without breaking down right there and then so he attempted to keep his mind away from the idea.

“My lord?” a physician spoke gently beside him.

Baldwin looked up at the young man expectantly, “may I speak with you a moment?” the physician asked.

The king nodded, giving y/n one last look before walking towards the door.

“Do you know what could be wrong?” he asked, his voice trembling with fear.

“We have a fair idea, my lord. Her symptoms match that of the flu. It is a European disease, this is all we know so far”.

Baldwin's heart sank and felt relieved at the same time.

On one hand, his worst fear had not come true and his perfect wife had not been tainted by his vile flesh. But on the other hand, she was still very ill with a disease he had only read about in books.

He felt light headed but was determined to stay on his feet. He had to be strong for her.

---------------------------------------------------

Her condition worsened further from that day onwards, as did the rumours in the castle.

Guy was of the firm belief that Baldwin had contaminated the queen with his vile disease and all of his followers and friends were of the same view.

Baldwin himself avoided everyone and everything that wasn't y/n.

Despite the warnings from the physicians that she may pass her disease onto him, thus killing him faster, he didn't care.

“I'm dying anyway, what's the point in avoiding it if she’s not going to be by my side in a few weeks” he told them.

They spent every moment together, taking in their last few days by each other's sides. Y/n could barely move and her fever made her weak but Baldwin could not care any less.

He read to her, prayed over her and spoke of his days to her, even if she didn't have the strength to reply.

This was exactly what she had promised to do for him in his last days, it didn't seem right to be the other way around. They even continued to sleep side by side. Just as if nothing happened at all.

When y/n would wake in the night, brought to consciousness by the low grade fever, she would admire her sleeping husband.

“I’m so sorry” she would whisper.

“I'm so sorry that I have to leave you. It wasn't supposed to be like this”.

---------------------------------------------------

It wasn't until another abnormally cold morning that Baldwin opened his eyes to find her stiff with the icy touch of death.

He sat up and wept at the sight until physicians came to take him to another room. Baldwin was simply inconsolable and he stayed that way for days.

He became a shell of a man. Refusing to leave his chambers or even eat.

“You must snap out of this and tend to your kingdom” Sybilla had told him.

“The land will be in ruins if you continue like this-”

“I care not for the land any longer!” he snapped.

“Let your foul husband have it to himself for all I care” he said with a wave of his hand as he began to cry again.

Sybilla put a hand on her brother's back, “just because she is gone doesn't mean you must go with her” she said gently.

“I see no use in living if she can't be by my side. I'm dying anyway Sybilla, the future of the kingdom matters not to me. Let Tiberias take care of my duties while I am here. Just go and pretend as though I am dead already” he looked at her through the holes in the mask, those blue eyes that used to be so filled with happiness when he was a child were now empty and red with tears.

“I can't leave you like this Baldwin” she whispered, pulling him into a hug.

He closed his eyes and for a moment imagined that it was y/n hugging him instead.

“She would have wanted you to be strong and go on. To lead the kingdom as you did when she lived” Sybilla said, not knowing if her words were even getting through to him or not.

Baldwin sighed.

“I'll do my best, dear sister”

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jeeperso · 17 hours ago

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let's see what I can recall from both canon and your own offhand mentions as you've discussed AEIWAM (extra challenge, I'm not going to refresh my memory of either, other than to check names)

Rukia, Kaien's boating license: her fight with Aaroniero and Arruruerie, and how they use kaien's memory as a weapon

Ukitake, beer coaster from The Dancing Calf tavern, maybe a pickup line or a babysitter: I *think* this is referring to the god hand guy that's keeping ol Cap'n TB from getting worse

Nemu, valentine’s card with the cherubic archer: as Kenpachi says, probably something to do with Uryuu

Kurotsuchi, yellow uno reverse: Pretty sure this is referring to how he takes out the nigh-immortal mad science espada by reversing his cheats, or however that fight goes

Yumichika, the Cassette Box Art for Ghost Of A Rose. no clue

Ikkakku, How To Survive A Chimpanzee Attack from The Big Book Of Not Dying Like A Moron. Step One: Accept Your Fate. Step 2: There is no Step 2. : USE YOUR DAMN BANKAI OUT THE GATE, YOU MORON!

Zaraki, a small silver-backed mirror: based on Kenny's comments that this is gonna suck, I think this refers to Yammy, that or he's misreading and its 'adopt nel'

Toshiro, Three of Lesbians: dunno

Rangiku, First card, faceup and upright is the Fun Facts Flashcard Sharks Are Smooth As Hell. second card, The Lovers, sideways: you'd mentioned she and harribel are gonna hook up, so this is 'don't let her sacrifice herself", i think is the advice

Shuuhei, A bunch of lobsters walking upright like people in the middle of a desert or something and it says “We Are Seven’: fork if I know, but like the big guy says, its gon get weird

Ise, Yggdrasil, Tree of Knowledge, Upside-down: i don't know, but i vaguely recall fake karakura's the one time she got to be cool, so it probably has something to do with...

Shunsui, the coyote, upside down: refers to his throwdown with Coyote Starrk, aka the poor bastard who first told them about the atomic bomb

Iba, marshmallon: no idea

Komamura, Hello, my name is ____: I have vague memory that he's the one fighting tousen in fake karakura

Renji, two of cups/duality: coming to Rukia's rescue

Byakuya, three of cups: gonna fork up a lot of arrancar

Momo, Venus: her meet-cute with Hiyori

Isane, persistence of memory: dunno.

Unohana, The Moshun’s House Of Meat All-You-Can-Eat-Buffet Coupon: lotta things gonna die by her hand/blade/healing halibut

Izuru, upside-down cripple mr Onion: sorry Kira, you're going to hear another doomed soul begging for their life before tomorrow is out

Oemaeda, knight of wands: his moment of glory, coming to his captain's aid

Soi Fon, the roadrunner & the lovers: Soi fon and your elusive, sometimes-mentioned roadrunner arrancar OC are gonna fork up barrigan, then fork each other

Sasakibe, ‘I too was in Arcadia’, and knight of pentacles: dunno, and I honestly keep forgetting this guy exists. but I'm guessing the combination of his, ise and isane's cards is putting together how to get around what BS trap i vaguely recall aizen pulling

Yamamoto, Nachtrichten von Trost und Freude: Ywach is starting his BS again. be ready once this problem's done

Yoruichi, The consequences of my actions (weakness), The address to write to an Agony Aunt Column for relationship advice (strength): Oh, right, her and Soi fon finally get their mess out in the open-mid fight, don't they?

Urahara, Nachtrichten von Trost und Freude (weakness), The Agony Aunts (strength): T4T relations/unplanned pregnancy are everyone's guess, but this might be hogokyu/Aizen BS

Ichigo, Mirror (weakness), empress (strength): in canon, Ichigo nearly loses himself to hollowfication to beat urloquira, but Orihime pulls him back

Orihime, The Library of Babel (weakness), chocolate chip cookie recipe (strength): Orihime's decision to deny Aizen the hogokyu by eating it when no one's looking

Gin, Mars (weakness), persistence of memory (strength): gin is his own worst enemy, but he's just gotta stick to the plan of running Aizen thru the cosmic taffy pull

Aizen, The Knife-Wielding Goose (weakness), Power clow card (strength): Aizen is ungodly powerful, but that's exactly how and why gin's gonna screw him into the cosmic taffy pull

Tousen, the Metamorphosis (problem), King of hearts (solution): true love's kiss will free Kaname Tousen from the horrors of his Resurrection?

Went back to reread the garbage tarot last night, and the few things I did recognize were like. Hilariously on point and literal in the weirdest way possible (extremely positive) and now I want to go back and see how much I can put together based on all the snippets you've given us. Anyways thank you for continuing to share! Your worldbuilding brings me just. So much delight. It's an inspiration, honestly.

I am actually intensely curious to know what parts you do recognize from what you know of AEIWAM/Canon and the garbage tarot post. Its good feedback to know if I'm foreshadowing properly.

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thethronezone · 5 hours ago

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Perturabo had never cared for his son. He had known from the moment the child had been born that Maximus was flawed. A disappointment like the rest of his legion. Perturabo had done his best to refine the boy, to turn him into a worthy astartes, but he wasn't a miracle worker. He couldn't fix something that was broken from the very beginning.

Despite this, Perturabo had kept Maximus close, even when once the boy had officially joined the Iron Warriors as another space marine. He reasoned it to be out of shame. Better keep an eye on the boy and make sure he didn't embarrass Perturabo any further. After all, that was his blood, flowing through his veins. His genes which had crafted this flawed specimen. He had to take some sort of responsibility, he supposed.

So why does he feel like both his hearts have just been ripped out?

The Battle of Isstvan V had been more difficult than initially assumed. The loyalists had fought back remarkably well, considering the fact that they had been caught completely off guard. But it was almost over now, just a couple of stragglers and minor skirmishes left. Clean up. The worst of it was supposed to be over now.

Perturabo had not expected to find Maximus skewered on a loyalist's sword, rapidly growing paler by the second as he bled out.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-" Maximus whispered under his breath and when he saw his father approach, his expression twisted into one of genuine remorse and shame. "I'm sorry, I wasn't strong enough, I couldn't hold the line, I let my guard down, I failed you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Perturabo said nothing as he knelt by Maximus side, said nothing as he inspected the fatal wound that had pierced through several of his major organs. Dying. Perturabo's son was dying.

Small. Perturabo had always thought his son had been too small but it felt so viscerally wrong now.

The Primarch looked Maximus in the eyes and instead of seeing a wounded astartes, he saw the little boy that once had gotten hurt during a training exercise and begged his father for forgiveness for not being good enough. Back then, Perturabo had sneered and told him to stop pleading, that it made him look weak and pathetic. Maximus had taken those words to heart as he had never done it again. Until now, that is.

Maximus wheezed. "I'm sorry father, please don't hate me."

Normally, Perturabo would have felt disgusted by this blatant display of weakness. Of the lack of discipline. But any condemning words he had died before they could even reach his lips. He didn't feel disgusted, like he ought to. Instead he just felt so very empty.

"I don't hate you" Perturabo finally said and felt a detached form of surprise when he realized he was speaking the truth. Maximus started at him with wide, glassy eyes and Perturabo felt the need to say... Something. But he didn't know what. Praise felt hollow. Reassurance false. Words just didn't feel like enough, so instead he grabbed his son's hand in his own. "I don't hate you, Maximus" he repeated, more to himself this time. Again, the truth of the statement surprised him.

Had Perturabo not spent all these years loathing his son? Cursing his weakness and the shame he had brought him as a father? Perturabo knew hate, was intimately familiar with the feeling, so he knew that was what he had been feeling. But if WASN'T towards Maximus, who had it been meant for?

A wet cough from Maximus snapped him out of his musings. His son (stars, his SON) clenched his armored hand weakly and Pertufound himself leaning closer, his other hand reaching for Maximus shoulder as if to steady him.

Maximus' expression of despair eased by a fraction and his body relaxed. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep, shuddering breath, before opening them once more and looking his father directly in the eyes. He cracked a sad, remorseful smile.

"I'm sorry I failed to make you proud, father."

And then he was gone. Perturabo saw the light leave his son's eyes, heard his hearts beat one last time before coming to a full stop. Yet he could not accept it. Maximus could not be dead. Not really. He was alive just a moment ago, talking, looking him in the eyes. It wasn't right. IT WASN'T FAIR!

Perturabo wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. Wanted to tear open a hole in his chest and rip out the pain and grieg that was overwhelming him. But he did none of that. Instead he just kneeled by his son's body, still holding his hand.

Finally, he knew what he should have told his son when he had still had the chance. "It was I who failed you, Maximus."

But it was too late now.

#warhammer 40k #perturabo #angst

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ozymoron · 5 months ago

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unreal he wont do live action ash again. what the fuck is your problem. asshole.

#⚠️#ashhole lol #get your old fat ass in front of the camera and dance for me monkey dance #and kepe the grey hair this time #its so fucking hot oh my god #sorry moment of weakness there for a second

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tinyfantasminha · 3 months ago

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Anyway. Any last words you wanna say to me before I drink bleach

I SHOULD HAVE NEVER GOT TEMPTED BY ANOTHER MAN BEFORE JACK'S BIRTHDAY 😭😭😭 NEVER AGAIN NEVER AGAINNN

NOT THE GAMER!!! GO AWAY I DONJT WANT YOU HERE

#jack im sososos sorry for my moment of weakness it cost me everythkng I'm never looking at another man ever again #goaway idia im not brcoming your gamer girl im over this phase #imgonna kill this cat snd this pasty gamer.#second fave getting cockblocked by other second fave wasn't what i expected #im so frustrated im legit crying 😭#jack not being in the event + didnt even get leona ssr made me lose all the will to continue with this event tbh #sighs. will draw the new guy maybe. or not. idc im numb #gacha #leona kingscholar

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bearlydruid · 2 days ago

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“I’m sorry.” His echo is quiet, but not any less honest - to know that all of Astarion’s connections had been taken from him seemed so cruel. But an elf like Halsin cannot ever begin to understand one like Cazador. Though he attempted to be a peaceful person there is no way to deny that vengeance has its place too in Halsin. He sought revenge for those that Ketheric had doomed - he sought revenge on the Goblins who had imprisoned him. “If….if you would like to, when we go to pay our respects we could do so for both of our parents.” Of course there is the unspoken chance that Astarion’s parents might be alive. Perhaps they had fled the Gate after losing their son. There might be records - but no doubt Astarion would have faced a grave punishment for trying to find them. Now though? There are opportunities before them that could lead to Astarion finding some peace potentially.

Now though, they are still dealing with the poison that Cazador had sewn into every aspect of Astarion’s existence. Every memory corrupted, every reaction built from years of torture and abuse. Halsin understood intimately how Astarion felt. He remembered the touch of his Mistress and the way she had won his cooperation. He remembered his Master’s apparent indifference - right up until it came time to parade their pet about. Halsin had been a novelty amongst the Drow. There were still moments, even centuries later, when he felt their hands on him. Halsin let out a sigh and pressed his scarred lips together for a moment, centering his thoughts again on the man before him.

Halsin brings Astarion’s hands up to kiss each palm, cradling them as delicately as he might an injured sparrows wings. He has seen Astarion take lives, he has watched with pride and thrill as his rogue fought, he knows that Astarion is not weak. The trembles do not mean such a thing, nor does the particular words that his lover spoke. To not want to be there, to be lost in this grief and these memories, does not make Astarion weak. “I cannot take this pain from you - but I promise to not leave you to endure it alone.” Halsin said softly. He leaned forward to press his forehead to Astarion’s, eyes closer as if to bind the words between them.

“If you want me to, I can help you rest - although it would only be a temporary reprieve.” Elves metabolized Potions of Sleep faster, and even Angelic Slumber, and that wasn’t even accounting for his vampiric rejuvenation. He wouldn’t mind sharing his pipe, or any other remedies he could think of. “I could also try a different touch? If heavier pressure might help.” Thinking immediately about trying a deep tissue massage.

A second later Halsin heard himself. “I do not mean laying on you, before you worry about being crushed.” He added before Astarion could protest. “I meant like deep tissue - to help remind you of current sensations.” It always seemed to help to explain himself better, he had to remember that not many shared his same knowledge.

"I'm sorry." Astarion says, unsure of what else to say when Halsin confirms that his parents are indeed dead. "I do not remember my parents, I wish I could." But he supposes that is what trauma does to someone. He doesn't recall them at all or if they're even alive.

But that is the least of his worries right now. That is not what is plaguing his mind, threatening to drag him back into that dissociative state again.

Astarion's mind screams at him to forget, forget, forget. He wants to retreat into himself and shut down entirely but Halsin's voice keeps him grounded and in the present.

"We should visit them sometime, then." Astarion tries to make his voice sound even and firm but it's quieted considerably, he's struggling to focus on the conversation at hand and when Halsin pushes, he knows that shutting down would not be good for him even when he wants nothing more than to ignore the pain.

"I..." Astarion pauses to swallow the lump forming in his throat. "I can still feel him. Feel the pain and the feeling of his hands. It's not there but it feels like it is." He wants to scrub and scrub his body until there is nothing left except for raw bloody skin.

Instead, he forces himself to let Halsin take care of him, even as his hands shake in his lover's hold.

Would it be so bad to drift off again?

"I don't want to be here right now." He isn't talking about ending his life, he's survived far too long for that, but he doesn't want to be grounded, he doesn't want to be in the present. He wants to run, retreat back into that place where he feels nothing at all.

#taleswritten

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deadbeandrop · 2 months ago

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ahem. and if i may be completely unwell about the moose and slug for a moment,

i keep thinking about a post-story scene where lumpus and slinkman's relationship is still in rocky territory, and they have like... kind of a half-arguement getting ready for bed and it doesn't really go anywhere but there's still a tension in the air, and then a moment of silence as they settle and face each other in the dark. there's a beat. and then slinkman just... reaches over to take lumpus' glasses off (he'd always been in the habit of adjusting them over the years), and he's confused for a second, and slinkman's just like "you shouldn't sleep with those on. you're going to break them" which is like, ah, yes, completely logical action, and something he's told him a million times,

but it's Also like "Oh, God. even when you don't have to anymore, and you said you'd stop doing it all the time, and you're mad at me, you're still taking care of me just because you care enough to that it's complete subconscious instinct for you to do so. i'm gonna jump off a cliff"

because, when you're in the dark, in complete silence, sharing a shoddy pull-out couch bed in the basement of your stupid hand-me-down bait-and-tackle shop with your life-long best friend, your only friend, almost a bit like you used to when you'd push your beds closer together at night the camp you loved all those years ago, well, then there's also nothing else around to distract from the fact that you appreciate that more than anything in the entire world

and so lumpus takes a second and is like ....Right. (voice crack) Of course. and turns to face the ceiling and feels like he's going to be sick <- (i love nausea being one of lumpus' gut responses to feeling things ❤️)

#camp lazlo #talk #scoutmaster lumpus #slinkman #shipping stuff #majorly gay ass little post here sorry (moment of weakness)#ugh... like lumpus is a selfish person and he gets slinkman to do everything for him for a few different reasons right #but another part of that is that it's just become routine #it's a routine. it's monotonous. it's an expectaction. that's what their dynamic ended up becoming after all that time #so when slinkman is fed up with his bullshit and starts withdrawing his warmth and help then and only then does lumpus start to realize #the weight of everything and where it all began and how much the kindness and attention and safety had absolutely decimated him at the star #he hasn't been getting all that anymore and with slinkman that's a very noticable absence #so like reintroducing it into the ecosystem again there when there's nothing else to pay attention to but that #certified I'm Going To Throw Up moment #[algonquin voice] oh. i see. no one is ever going to care about me like slinkman again #there's almost something about jane's sweetness and the stuff shs and slinkman has in common y'know #but he's just been receiving it from slinkman forever now! it's different!!! until it's suddenly and very purposefully taken away!#if he can just pull his head out of his own ass for a second;#he is sentimental and feels out his loneliness and overall lack of love from the world #all of that does get to him and he does admire things like that in people like jane #slinkman is over here feeling like nothing he does is ever actually appreciated #but it wasn't always like that. not in the slightest #he's just forgotten what's in front of him #do you get it. huh. are you starting to pick up what i'm putting down #it's okay if not though cus that's what my other billions of words are for ❤️ yay ❤️#post-story

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razormain · 7 months ago

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i'm so stupid i shouldn't have tried to pull boothill's lc. i got gepard's. i don't even have gepard

#clai speaks #firefly i'm so sorry it was a moment of weakness #i just thought like.... he is my second favorite character........ i have argenti's because he's my favorite i could go for boothill's #so hey guys my comms are open-- (i am thrown into the sea)#EDIT: i got it. i now have 6 passes to my name. ough.

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screampied · 7 months ago

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❝ HELL ON HEELS . . ! ❞

ᡴꪫ sum. it's your third day on the job as a flight attendant. you work around a lot of snobby rich elites, but a particular one catches your eye. a particular one who tips you $300 dollars in cash and wants way more than just your uninvited attention.

wc. 6.5k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, this is how gojo and reader meet, mile high club trope, flight attendant reader, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), semi public sēx, praise kink, degradation, dry humping, squırting, spanking, edging.

an. thank u to everyone who voted for this on the poll <3

➤ sd!gojo masterlist

the low-pitched whirring of the plane’s engine was quite loud. white noise could be heard through first class as you walked alongside the aisle. with a heavy sigh, you’d just wish the day would be over. the overall duration of the flight was about a good two hours, not too bad but you were already over it. dealing with haughty a-list celebrities or elites as a whole wasn’t for the weak. a majority of them were rude, snobby, and just stuck up individuals. except for one . .

as thick pieces of rubber stick against your heels and clank against the carbon fibre floor, you sashay through and from the rows before a cheeky voice calls over to you. “excuseee me, miss ‘ttendant,” and you crane your neck to where it was coming from. sat right by the window near the left— draped in nothing but a sable-black tuxedo with a pricey g-shock wrapping around his wrist, he simpers. “do you ahh, mind if you . . ?”

“huh,” you quirk your eyebrows into a brow before he nods his head up toward the cabin compartment above all of the seats. “oh,” you give him a soft smile. he takes a quick glance at your name tag that’s glued on the left side of your blazer. you lean over against him, reaching towards the latch to pull it down. the more you get close to him, the more you smell his cologne. it’s so strong, you were sure it was some kind of expensive designer brand. a small grunt leaves your lips as you stretch before just when you’re about to pry open the cabinet, the plane grumbles with a rude shake. a rude shake in which you fall—right onto the older man’s lap who’s got the smuggest grin.

“we’re experiencing a bit of turbulence up here, sincerest apologizes passengers..”

the pilot mutters through the intercom— it’s blaring through the speakers. he talks for about seven seconds, as well as reminding for everyone to have their seatbelts on at all times before he stops.

as if things couldn’t have been anymore embarrassing, your face lands right into his crotch. “oh my god—i’m so sorry sir,” you try to atone, sitting up and as you’re up so close to him, you take a moment to actually get a good glimpse at the man.

he was pretty, simply no denying it. you knew him from anywhere. gojo satoru, the gojo satoru. the snowy white hair was a dead giveaway.

he was more of a well known business man—a ceo of some hot shot company. he had his own clothing brand, does lots of men photoshoots, and even modeled a bit in his early twenties. although, the more you gawk at him, the more it seems like he barely even aged. gojo looks like he was still in his twenties, he had a bit of a stubble but was quite really well shaved. azul-blue eyes return the stare right back at you as you take in his prepossessing features for just a bit longer.

god, he was handsome.

gojo’s hair was neatly neat, a simple slick back of a sort with a few strands of white hair running down his face. he brings a wrist up to his face to rub his mouth before covertly humming. “. . oh, am i that good lookin’, princess?”

you gulp once he catches you staring, and then it hits you again,

you were still dumbly laid on his lap as he’s gazing into your eyes with the most complacent grin. “i-i’m sorry,” you mumble, cringing at your own stutter. thankfully, it was probably about four am, it was a private jet and only a few other passengers scattered around the sectioned row. sitting up, you rub your neck sheepishly before sighing. “i . . don’t usually fall on passengers during on my shifts.”

“heh well i’d hope not,” he teases. “oh, and don’t worry about getting my luggage by the way,” and his eyes trail you down before he glances at your name tag again. “hm, i think i’d like to request something else though,” and the more you stare into his pretty cerulean eyes, the more you get lost in them.

his eyes were equivalent to a maze, you’re always getting lost in his pretty irises—never finding your way out. “you’re probably all sore from walkin’ around in those heels, how ‘bout you take a little break?”

and he was right. the entire lower parts of your calves were a bit sore, so you do. you take a break . . although,

your 'break' mainly consists of you being hunched over, propped up in front of gojo’s seat with him eating you out from behind like a starved man. your bottom lip feels all numb and puffed from chewing on it for so long. your lips part into an exaggerated ‘o’ as your head’s repeatedly being pressed against the back of the airplane seat in front of you. the softly made material rubs against your face and you moan. some older woman was snoring in the front of it, headphones plugged in both sides of her ears.

thank god, you prayed whatever heavy metal track she was listening to would distract her slumber from hearing your loud, whiny moans.

alas again, by ‘break’, you didn’t expect this but you weren’t exactly complaining either. with gojo’s tongue rummaging against your clit, it had you gasping for desperate various breaths. “s-sirrrr,” you whimper, a lewd smile pursing against your lips. two broad hands of his had your jade-colored business skirt pulled up all the way to the very hem of your torso— just about reaching near your now wrinkled blazer. as you sling an arm over the seat in front of you, you whine once his nose prods against your soddened entrance. “ngh, ‘m gettin’ close again i think. f-fuck, right there.”

“please, call me satoru, baby,” he whispers against your pussy. you shudder from the coldness of his breath aerating against your bare skin—you whine once his palm swats by your right ass cheek, giving it a mean spank. “ooh,” he coos from the recoil of your rear. so pretty, it was quite funny how things even escalated so quickly.

right before he was buried into the depths of your plush thighs, you were just chatting with him. gojo had a charm to him. he was a lot different from the other stuck up elites you occasionally dealt with. he was quite easy to talk to. you make it a habit to talk to each passenger, despite how snobby they might come across anyway.

with him though, he was a pure smooth talker.

gojo showered you with a plethora of compliments. it came natural, it didn’t seem forced—he’d point out your pretty eye color, your hair, just anything. with your job, you were used to getting a few compliments here and there—but he’d go all out, all out in a way where it makes your heart flutter and fly. you’re rutting your ass against his face, loving the way his wet tongue curls into a few alphabetic letters. he’s just filthy. each breath that escapes from your lips as if it was being held captive felt like it was gonna be its last.

“so . . fuckin’ sweet,” he purrs, dragging a thumb down your slit for a moment. gojo takes a second to admire the way you easily soak in his digit, such a breathtaking sight inside. lewd, but breathtaking. “mhm, look at her givin’ me a little show. move your ass against my face a little more, sweetheart. yeah, fuck.”

your heart does jumping jacks at his dialogue. his voice was deep, rich—and seductive.

the silvery band of his watch continues to skim all across your skin as your hips judder. you shiver, feeling yourself about to reach your inevitable orgasmic peak before you moan out loud. you tried to suppress your noises, you did—but it was no use. you’re already biting at your hardened knuckles but oh, his tongue.

every few seconds, he’d break away to spit and slobber on your pussy. his nose consistently smears all against your folds, getting you ten times more wetter than you already were. he’s nasty, making sure you keep that arch for him. your skirt was pulled up and all wrinkled. the teeth-shattering stimulation makes you feel nerves surge all throughout your body like galvanic electricity.

“s- satoruuu.” you’d huff out in tiny pants, feeling your tummy cave in a few times. your sweet moan, its like a tune—a harmony, hell, it was melodic. he’d listen to you whine his name like that all day if he could. a gentle hand of his runs down your twitching leg, giving every part of your body from behind attention.

he was starting to get addicted, you were too sweet . . candied even, it was dangerous. he’s always had a bit of a sweet tooth anyways and perhaps you were his new favorite treat.

the raving pace of his tongue was simply relentless. you’re gripping onto the back of the seat for dear life, barely able to keep up with him.

ethereal ivory lashes of his open and close every millisecond that passes. it’s as if time was going slow for you— of course it was though, considering how you were thousands of feet in the air. you don’t know why, but the thought of someone just walking by and stumbling upon you all bent over for a passenger,

not just a passenger but the gojo satoru . .

you’d be lying a bit if you said it didn’t turn you on a bit. you knew it was against policy to screw on the job, in the air at that, but it was the middle of the night and partly everyone onboard was asleep anyway. having some affluent attractive guy right between your thighs, you were living the dream. you thought this only happened in the movies.

“aw, don’t give up on me just yet, pretty,” he soothes a tune against your cunt. after a while, gojo’s speedy flicking of his tongue transitioning to pure sucks. you’re shaking within the suction of his mouth. it’s almost too much to bare yet you didn’t want him to stop. he knows just the right tempo to make you roll your eyes back too. with prying hands, gojo’s spreading open your ass a bit more to lick a deeper area with his tongue. you zealously whine once he playfully uses a thumb to poke against your puckering hole. “mhm, yeah. thaaaat’s it, but don’t be so loud though, princess. i know we’re in the back row but still, heh.”

and with that— he gifts your ass another smack. he proudly relishes in your lewd, pornographic reactions. you’re an entire mess and he’s slurping your fervor shamelessly.

“s- satoruuuu, fuck f-fuck,” your breathing starts to significantly pick up. with your chest continuing to sink in and out, he briefly sneaks his dampened lips away from your entrance to bite near your thighs. the way you were shaking to him was just so cute. the white noise that continues to sing and reverb throughout the plane’s structure grew louder. or . . that was just the ringing through your ears—regardless, it was between that noise and the sounds of your own obscene pleasure that had a competition. a competition on who could be the most louder. your name-tag that’s still pressed against your blazer remains to rub off against the fabric of the seat in front of you.

your perked nipples snag in the process as you’re arching a bit more before a wail dies out your throat. “i- i’m gonna cu— oh!”

“another few hits of turbulence, folks. please stay in your seatbelts. time of arrival should be around six thirty am..”

you bring a hand over your mouth in a cute attempt to silence yourself as you’re meeting your high—listening to the pilot, you sob out a squeal from the inside of your palm. gojo’s slurping you up again with his tongue, your grinding against his face makes him chuckle. with his jaw tightening a bit, he doesn’t care—you were so sweet, he could eat you out all day. not to mention, he was quite thirsty. instead of having you retrieve one of his bags, he was gonna originally ask for a glass of water. but this quenched his thirst a lot better in his humblest opinion. his warm breath fans against your cunt all the while you feel his stubble tickle near the undersides of your thighs. “mmph.” you moan, peeking in front of you to still see the old lady knocked out cold. with the way you were rocking into the back of her seat— you were surprised she didn’t wake up. you were glad she didn’t though. otherwise, you’d embarrass yourself yet again.

with your orgasm still having its moment, you start to calm down a bit. he’s still slithering his tongue down your folds, savoring your taste as if it’s the last thing on the planet. his chin was coated with all of your slick, and he snickers before dragging a thumb to get another taste. “good girl. give it to me, ride my—ride my tongue, uh huhhh.”

a swarm of butterflies wanders around inside of your tummy from his words—his tone, it was so soft yet the dialogue that spoke out was just downright dirty. you pulse between your thighs and it only makes you crave him more.

as you’re still arched over in front of him, you take a few hard gulps to swallow as you’re finishing your perfect nirvana state. ecstasy, just ecstasy overtakes your entire body as he gives your pussy it’s final sucks and nibbles. once he finishes, he’s still sat in his chair. spinning you around, he gives you a warm smile.

“c’mere, sweetheart..”

out of breath and pants snatching out of your full lungs with ease—you move into him with your eyes half-lidded. “. . . atta girl, taste how sweet you are. gimme a kiss,” and you get on top of him. sliding off your heels, you get onto gojo’s lap. now straddling him, you lean into a steamy, hot kiss. two hefty built arms of his wrap around your waist, pulling you in close. once your lips meet, it’s just utterly sloppy.

throwing your arms around him and tugging on his tucked out collar, you deepen the kiss. he groans at your enthusiasm, allowing his hands to glide against every inch of your body. gojo’s fingertips dance against the pieces of clothing you wore, despite it being so few. your blazer was still on and yet couldn’t help but rock against his lap as your tongue parts inside of his mouth. gojo’s head leans back as you’re enjoying yourself. but all of a sudden, you moan once you feel it.

his boner, right in the middle part of his pants. gojo satoru was hard—hard for you.

he grunts lowly, a hand of his snaking up your leg as you taste the sweet remnants of your own flavor on his tongue. the closer you are to him, the closer you get a nice everlasting sniff of his cologne. so manly, it’s a rich scent that you could never get enough of. it was so strong—roaming through the air so much that it almost gave you a headache.

“fuck,” he sibilates. a single hissing word that comes from his mouth makes you throb oh so easily. you’re swaying your hips against him and his adam’s apple bobs back in rapture. every few seconds, he pulls away to leave a wet slope of kisses down your neck. a hand of yours tugs against his tie that was neatly worn on him. “damn girl you’re kinda kinky,” and he finally pulls away, teasingly biting on your bottom lip before finally departing. “i’m startin’ to like you.”

“more,” you murmur, leaning in to nip a wet kiss of your own near the crooked crevices of his mouth. naturally parted lips of his twitch, causing him to wryly smile back at you. “i need more, sir. we have a few more hours left. please.”

“baby, you can call me satoru. cut the formal shit yeah?” and his voice was a pitchy low, an almost rasp hidden underneath. a hand of his gently grabs your chin and you’re met with the most prettiest eyes. if it wasn’t his long lashes, it was his celestially blue eyes. so blue that it was as if you were star gazing at a summer sky. gojo satoru a pretty man, no doubt. he hums to himself in amusement at your cute doe-eyed expression, hungry for more. sitting on his boner was already torture enough, you just wanted him inside.

sure, you were technically working but you didn’t care about that. “satoruuuu,” he’s being playful, a thumb still pulling down your bottom lip. as you’re both maintaining such intimate eye contact, his voice softens once more. gojo’s hand slides its way between your thighs before he raises a brow in a taunting manner. “what do you want satoru to do to you? tell me, girl.”

“t- touch me.” you almost whine out, it yanks out from your throat so pathetically. the throbbing you were feeling behind your panties only turned into straight convulses.

playfully, he tilts his head with a smile. “yeah? touch ya where.”

“i gotta spell it out for you?” you pout, and he chuckles at your frustrated attitude. you start to jerk your hips against his lap and he holds your waist in place to bring those movements to a stop. “f-fuck, ‘s hard.”

stroking a thumb against your quivering lips, his minty breath hits against your nose—you smell it and it’s minty fresh. a scent of what seemed to be some kind of tangy beverage and a gum like substance. with a mocking tone, he presses a kiss against your nose before jibing. “i just wanna know where ‘m gonna put my hands on this pretty body. that’s all,” and his voice was so smooth, an almost purr. with a chortle, he moves a few strands of hair out of your view of sight before continuing his words. “now now, i’ll ask again, pretty. where do ya want me to touch you? let’s be descriptive this time.”

“between my t-thighs,” you confess, already soaked from him devouring your pussy just merely seconds ago. the shocking friction between both bodies had you feral, had you dizzy, had you stupid.

gojo gradually brings a hand down before you press a hand against his chest, pouting again. “actually, i want you to fuck me. please, satoru.”

“there we go, good girl. ‘n heh, aw i figured,” he cheeses, licking a single stripe up your neck. “mhm, you’ll have to ride me though. ‘s only so many positions you can do on a plane, heh.”

you barely let him finish your sentence before you start to unbuckle his pants. you’re so quick with it. gojo stares at the way you’re so desperate, taking it off the tiny hooks before yanking his belt all the way off. seconds later, you’re pulling down his pants toward his ankles. “ooh,” his eyes flicker towards your chest as you start to align yourself against his lap. you take a moment to stare at his now exposed cock and it was so pretty. lengthy if anything, a leaky mushroom like tip that was a bit reddened. he was so hard too, just gawking at his heavyset bulge that had you almost drooling. gojo leans back, rubbing against his thigh before flashing you a cheesy smile. “wellllll,” he sings. “don’t be shy girl. get on up here. ride all that stress away from work, pretty thing.”

he was so cocky, yet you were so needy.

as you’re still aligning him, your damp entrance rubs off against the head of his tip. it’s peeling open a bit, the skin that attaches to the frenulum was just so mesmerizing to look at. it’s got a pinkish color, almost red. shortly following, a mere tannish color flushes on his cock near the base down. you moan once he grabs ahold of his length, helping you adjust.

“easy . . easy baby, i gotcha,” he sighs, feeling your warmth slowly swallow him whole. those short seconds you spend taking in gojo’s dick feels like long, consecutive hours.

you’re dripping wet. as you straddle his lap, preparing to ride him, he slouches back in such a sexy way. manspread—gojo grunts out a single breath as his chest deflates. shifting his gaze towards your cunt, he spreads open your folds to get a better view. “ughhh, look at how she opens up for me. ‘s fuckin’ nasty,” he groans, staring dead at your cunt. you were indeed coating him with your slick from the base down. “give it to me, upside daisey, yeah.”

you’re taking his inches as the seconds go by before after a while—you plop down, feeling him bottom out already. gojo moans, gifting your ass with another spank. “f-fuck ‘toru,” you hiss, knowing that was a non-verbal sign for you to start up your hips. a cooling air that passes through the plane sets against your skin as you move. you whine, feeling his hands trickle alongside the secretive edges of your thighs. “touch me more, l- like that.”

“i don’t remember saying you could tell me what to do,” he meets your eyes as you start to thrust forward. he’s got the most impish grin stretching against his lips. gojo grips your chin for what was probably the nth time within this hour before he grins. “nuh uh, don’t look away. i wanna see those gorgeous eyes,” and he sneaks another wet kiss against your mouth. “ride it like you own it baby.”

you start off realllll slow,

sashaying your hips up and down against his lap in the most alluring way. all six eyes were on you and only you..

your arms still wrap around him and he’s keeping eye contact with you the entire time. with your blazer practically ruffled and wrinkled, you continue to move yourself against him. gojo’s cock stretches you out in such a way you didn’t even know was possible. your walls craved him, you craved him.

as he leans further back, a hand’s still glued to your ass before he smacks it . . again.

he pats it afterwards, watching a cute sour expression slowly marinate against your facial features.

gojo giggles at your cute noises, it doesn’t take long before you bury your face into the crook of his neck, gnawing your teeth against his collared shirt. “f-fuck, satoru,” you’d whine out, feeling his grip tighten against your ass. his cologne’s got your head spinning like a merri-go-round, giving you whiplash in all the right ways. “s-so big, stretchin’ me.”

“takin’ it so good, baby,” he licks against the lobe of your ear. his breath against your neck was warm—not so cold anymore. two rough hands grasp onto your active hips, encouraging you to go more forward, more faster. “good girl, mhm, fuck me like that. use those hips for me, yeahh.”

his dick curves through every part of your walls as if it’s exploring. you feel him reach deep within every part and it’s driving you toward the first street of crazy.

breathy pants skate out from your lips as you’re swinging yourself back and forth against him. “s-satoru,” you whimper, feeling his hands continue to feel against the bare bottom parts of your ass. you could feel the bands of rings he wore rub off against your skin also, so fridgly cold. “f-fuck, ‘s good. mhm, fuck.”

“you’re so pretty,” he groans, the brief sounds of skin slapping resounding through your ears. it’s loud, almost sonorous.

his hair was getting a bit ruffled and unkempt, adding to his suave, mature features.

as he looks off into the nearly empty dim lit aisle, a silhouette appears—someone’s coming. it’s a familiar sound of heels hitting against the floor and you were too occupied of being horny to turn your head. at first, you barely even notice as you’re still grinding against his lap. “oh shit,” gojo gasps, grabbing the sides of your hips, suddenly bringing you to a stop. with a sly smile, he hums against your ear. “baby, don’t freak but i think your co-worker’s coming.”

“w- what?” you murmur, and he makes you spin around, still having his heavy cock hidden into the swollen depths of your cunt. glancing up, it was one of your co-workers coming. in a weak attempt to fix your nearly messed up blazer that was about to pop, you lean against his chest. “who— where?”

as he’s pressed right up against you, you’re met with a playful deep voice against your ear. “relax. act like you’re totally not cockwarming me, obviously,” and he runs a few fingers down your uniform, feeling you shift your hips a bit at his touch. gojo tries to make it look like you were just sitting on his lap, moving a cover over you and him from the waist down. you feel so full, you were growing more and more needy, a pout comes onto your lips because you didn’t want to stop so abruptly. you just wanted to keep riding him, but of course—you were working. “play it cool, baby.”

“um, is everything okay?” one of your fellow co-worker flight attendants, serena murmurs.

with a furrowing brow, she takes in the sight in front of her. you, happily straddling a passenger's lap whilst you’re heaving as if you’d just finish a 5k race. “we’ve been some getting complaints about noises. also, you need to restock the snacks near back. we’re runnin’ low on peanuts.”

“y-yeah, ‘m fine,” you sheepishly nod, knowing how fishy this entire scene might have looked. gojo’s dick was just idly enshrouded into your cunt, just one move and you’d be fucked. technically, you already were fucked. he’s tracing a finger against your thighs before you exhale. “but uh— can’t you restock?”

“i would but that’s not my job,” she snaps with an eye roll. gojo chortles at your co-worker’s attitude, he presses a single kiss against your neck and you almost moan. her facial expressions twist in disgust before she backs away. “anyways, just go restock,” and as she twists her heels to walk away, she utters under her breath. “weirdos. i don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

gojo lets out a breathy laugh as you finally moan again—it’s taking everything out of you and you start up the jolting of your hips again. “f-fuck, ‘m close, ‘toru,” you whimper, the friction feeling like hot static dragging against your legs. “mhm, ‘s good.”

“you’re even more dirtier than i thought, princess,” he whispers, a hand playfully wrapping around your throat as you’re moving your hips back. “i bet your co-worker put two ‘n two together. you could have been a little more believable.”

you’re moaning, his touch sending you more deadly shivers before you feel a coil within you squeeze shut tight. the beat of your heat grows rapid and your pupils dilate from pure pleasurable lust. you’re getting close again, it’s coming so quick that you barely have any time to breathe.

his aromatic cologne nearly blinds your sinuses before you feel against his neck with your palm. “i . . i don’t care if she knows,” you mumble with a scowl, feeling his base continuously rub against your entrance. you’re coating him with nothing but a pretty viscous sheet of your slick. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum again.”

“yeah? what if i want you to wait?” he purrs, his sloping trail of kisses turning into sucks. you whine, leaning into his touch as he’s stuffing your insides full of thick cock. jello—your legs felt like jello, barely even able to move. the warmth against him had you hungry for more. it was addictive, you didn’t know what it was. you didn’t get like this for any other passenger, yet here you were. your mouth croons open, whining out a single harmony at his pace. he’s still making you grind back against him, the tempo having your head going for a spin every time. “what if i want you to be a good attendant ‘n wait just a bit longer f’me?”

“but—”

“nuh uh,” he snickers, bringing a smack to your ass. “wait for me, pretty. this pussy’s gonna make a mess when i want her to.”

and he creeps a hand down between your jittery legs, rubbing a few circles against your already sopping wet cunt. a gasp wretches from your throat as you’re laid back against his chest. the rugged fabric of his tuxedo top whisks against your skin and you’re babbling out sweet nothings.

“f-fuck, ‘m not gonna last,” you whine, feeling yourself throb at the way his thumb brushes against your throat. he’s feeling the vibrations of your gruttural moans and it’s so cute. by this point, you’d already forgotten you were thirty thousand feet in the air. thirty thousand feet in the air and you were getting your pussy destroyed by one of your passengers.

not just any passenger though,

gojo satoru.

he’s panting right with you as you’re just bouncing on his lap, two soft padded hands gripping against his thighs. as you bite your lip, your ass thrashes back gainst him and he hisses. “just like that, pretty girl. shiiiiit, ‘m gonna cum too.”

with his deep penetrative thrusts, it’s got you going ditzy. as he starts to spank against your puffy cunt, he nibbles against your collarbone. “you wanna cum with me, yeah? ‘s that why you keep dragging y’r nails into my leg?”

“s—sir,” you desperately spat, but he spanks your cunt again so you could switch your words around. “ngh, i mean satoru. wanna cum with you, pleaseplease. ‘s good, want it, finish in me.”

“my, well when ya ask like that,” he hums, and you feel the sharpness of his hips pivot. gojo groans, standing up before he lies you back against the now reclined seat. “lie back, baby. actually, changed my mind. i wanna push those pretty knees up to your chest.”

panting, you lie back against the now lounged seat. gojo flashes you that same sly grin before he lifts up your leg—bringing a sweet kiss toward your ankle. “you can lose your license over this, you know? dirty girl, lettin’ your pussy think for ya instead of that brain, huh?”

“don’t care,” you moan, watching him quickly align his cock against your slit. gojo grunts, feeling you easily swallow his tip up again. your cunt was clingy, he was very much addicted to your slippery sloppy core. with his pants halfway on and hanging down to his ankles, he starts up a rapid pace again. “uh, uh,” you whimper again and again, your thighs instinctively wrapping around his waist. you’re keeping him warm from the inside, raw moans pulling out of your esophagus like it was nothing. “right there, ‘m gonna cum, please. s-sir, fuck me.”

“satoru,” he corrects you, a hand gripping your chin. pretty blue eyes leer down at you and he’s so close to you. as he’s jackhammering his cock into your sobbing swollen walls—eyes of your own goggle into gojo’s as he’s fucking you silly. you probably look a mess from this view, the heel of your foot grazing down his strong back muscles. gojo hears the sloshing squelches your own pussy makes and you feel the sudden throb arise from his dick. he twitches inside you and it makes his head throw back. after he gains composure again, he exhales deeply, tapping a thumb against your sealed lips.“you don’t gotta be formal when ‘m inside, princess,” and he squeezes your lips together, licking near the bottom. “open.”

you’re whining, his tempo growing quicker and you’re so close. crimson-carmine lips of his twitch into a feral smile once he sees you being so easy to comply. with your lips parting open, you tilt your head back before he spits into your mouth.

“theeeere’s your tip,” he teases, pursing your lips together with two fingers as you swallow. your cunt still gripping against him as he then pulls you into a deep kiss. with your legs clutching around his waist. “uh, manners baby. where’s my thank you?”

“t- thank you, ‘toru.” you breathe, feeling your cunt throb even quicker.

“oh, you’re welcome,” he smiles and he can’t help but giving you another kiss on the mouth shortly afterwards. the lustful stare he’s giving you could almost be described as lecherous has you more sopping wet by the second. with your legs tightly and securely keeping him from breaking away, he groans. right into your mouth, his tongue collides against yours before he sucks on it. as he brings you into a loving kiss again, gojo’s girth has you feeling a sudden arch in your back arise the moment you sit up. you’re being fucking into the reclined seat, his weight almost crushing against but it feels so good. “mhmmm, ‘m gonna cum. gonna spill so much inside of you, pretty.”

“don’t waste any,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around him. you didn’t even care how unprofessional this was. in the back of your mind, you’re thinking to yourself— if someone walked in again, who cares? not you. “please.”

“well aren’t you a doll,” gojo murmurs in a cooing tone, shoving your knees all the way up near your chest. you’re preparing yourself as you’re about to reach your final pleasurable demise. it feels almost tickling, the fat tip of his cock repeatedly kisses against that same spot within you. you’re whines sound almost melodic, not even caring if your pilot a few seats back heard. “look at me.” he taps your bottom shaking lip, leaning in to plant another kiss on your lips. one turns into two, then three, then four . .

and then— his phone rings.

you’re still a moaning mess, feeling your legs just about give out as he’s pressing such amounts of weight on top of you. gojo’s hands fondle with your neglected breasts that laid underneath your blazer. he groans, reaching for his phone near the counter of the seat. with a grunt, he answers. “tch. satoru gojo.”

still snugly shoved deep inside, he’s multitasking. one hand holds onto the left side of your waist, another holding his phone up against his cheek. he’s drilling into you so mercilessly as if his occupation was a construction worker. you whine, the scratching itch never leaving you. once it comes, it comes. “suguru, ‘m kinda busy. can this wai— oh f…fuck.”

in an abrupt gasp, he ends up finishing first. it’s so much. thick gooey spurts pour into your cunt, filling up the insides of your goopy womb. gojo’s peering down at you and his lip quivers. he finished a bit early. too quick, his hand shakes as he holds up his phone before you squeeze your legs against his torso even tighter. for a moment, he almost whines himself. the strong gripping grip your pussy has against makes him swear underneath his breath.

“huh? yeah, ‘m good,” he sexily whews, slowing his rhythm down a bit.

a hand of his snaps, making you look down between your legs.

he gives you a teasing grin and you spread your folds open. it was so much, so much velvety ropes of hot cum that ooze in and out of your sloppy folds. you’ve never felt more warm from the inside. it was a feeling that had your mouth watering, salivating with your sweet, syrupy saliva. your legs were practically mush, and once you finish, you end up gushing all out at once. it takes you by surprise more than anything. the feeling comes like a crashing, unpredictable wave, a fading fade then departures from your body. minutes eventually pass and gojo’s still yapping away on the phone—yet after a while, he decides to wrap it up and groan. “yeah yeah okay, man. i gotta go now. unless you wanna listen to how i sound post-orgasm, heh.”

“what—?”

with a quick bleep, gojo hangs up. tossing his phone aside, he looks down at you—cutely sprawled out whilst chills run down your body. he can almost see you palpitating from said chills. leaning up close to you, still balls deep, he pants heavily. gojo pressed a kiss against your right temple before teasing. “heyyy, did you just squirt on me?” he asks, and he speaks in a sly soft tone.

you don’t reply and he gives you a priggish smile. “you didddd. so nasty, i should make ya lick it off me.”

you did end up squirting. it was so much. so so much.

you’re still having your legs wrap around his waist before you grab onto his wide, stiff shoulders. “s-satoru,” you moan into his neck, getting yet another balmy whiff of his manly musk. “f-fuuuck, more.”

right before he could reply though— the intercom of the plane comes on and it’s the pilot.

“ladies and gentleman, we’ve made it to our destination. local time and time of arrival is six thirty-three am. for your own safety and others around you, please remain seated and keep the aisles cleared until i announce we’re at the airport gates. thank you.”

“aw, boo,” gojo laments, slowly pulling out of your pussy. a pout unfurls against your glossed lips as you feel suddenly empty. no more thick inches inside. the only thing you felt were the leftover masses of his cum spewing out of you. the seats were a mess, he brings a hand down to strum a few fingers against your entrance and you whine. so soaked, he gifts you with a kiss on your forehead before exhaling. “well, think it’s ‘bout time we part ways, gorgeous.”

gojo helps put back on your skirt and panties and you‘re just laid back with a cute scowl as he assists you off your feet. “i . . can’t walk like this,” and he chuckles at how stiff you were— a few droplets of his cum race down your thighs and you almost moan again. you’re still sensitive, throbbing near every inch of your body before he stands up. he’s so lean and tall. as gojo towers over you, you glance up at him and you’re met with that annoying flirtatious smirk he gave you when his eyes first laid on you. “my panties are practically ripped.”

he turns around to grab his suitcases above him from the cabinet and sighs.

zipping up his exposed fly, gojo leans in to kiss your forehead. “ah, well i can always buy you some more,” and then he pauses. “actually,” he grabs his wallet and your eyes widen once he gives you three hundred dollar bills. “i can buy you more than just panties if ya want, sweet thing,” he slides the bills in between your bra before pressing a kiss against your neck. “you’ve been such a good girl,” and he then hands you his business card. it displays his name and a cheesy saying near the front, all his information in bold blue letters too. before walking away with your bawled up underwear, he leans up to your ear for a final time and whispers, “remember though, it’s satoru gojo, baby. ah, and these panties—i’ll be keeping these as a souvenir.”

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