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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.

P.S. Thank you so much for completing this series. 'Movie Night' has been a massive labor of love and so much fun to write, even in its ups and downs. I hope you have enjoyed all 31 chapters!

The End.

Chapter 31- 'Movie Night' - The final Chapter | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 14.6 k

If you want, here is a little closing credits track list for you.

The dim glow of the corridor lights casted long shadows as you walked towards the cinema room, a group of Trent’s usual friend group, your brother naturally included, scattered around you—some ahead, some lingering behind. You felt his presence before you heard him, the warmth of his body close behind yours, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as he leaned in.

“Gonna spend another movie night with me?” Trent’s voice was low, smooth, only meant for you but with slight sarcasm given the obvious you were walking to the cinema room in his house together. You paused mid-step, turning to face him with wide greedy eyes. 

“Yeah…” You smiled, unable to not. “Can I sit with you, baby?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended, almost shy. Trent’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes flickering over your face teasingly acting like you’d just asked the most ridiculous question. 

“Not sitting anywhere else,” he murmured, his hands landing firmly on your shoulders before turning you back around, guiding you down the hall with an amused shake of his head.

The cinema room was dark, the massive screen the only light already playing the opening scenes of a film you had no interest in. Trent had been smart, settling into the back corner, away from the watchful eyes of his mates. You curled into his side, his arm draped lazily over your shoulder, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns on your arm. But after thirty odd minutes, it was getting harder to sit still. The low hum of the film, the comfortable darkness, the warmth of his body beside you—it all made you restless. Your fingers started their own game, dancing along his thigh, tracing over the fabric of his joggers. Trent tensed slightly, his hand tightening around your shoulder, a silent warning. But you only smirked, pressing your lips into the crook of his neck, letting them linger just a little too long. His breath hitched, his jaw clenched. He wasn’t stupid—he knew exactly what you were doing. His hand moved, gripping your thigh firmly, grounding you. 

“Behave.” His voice was low, teasing but laced with restraint.  But where was the fun in that?

"This is boring," you whined softly against his skin, your lips brushing over the warm curve of his neck as you pressed a teasing kiss there. You felt the way his body reacted instantly-his muscles tensing before his head tilted slightly, instinctively giving you more space, like it was something he couldn’t control.

"Nah, it's not," Trent murmured, his voice thick with feigned indifference, his jaw tightening as your teeth grazed his skin. "Gotta pay attention, baby." He was lying through his teeth. The movie was the last thing on his mind, but he couldn't cave. Not here. Not with Noah, Jack, and the rest of the boys scattered around the room, completely unaware of the dangerous game you were playing in the back corner. But his attempt to shut you down didn't work-you were relentless. You shifted closer, your fingers tracing absentmindedly over his stomach, his thigh, your lips finding his neck again, this time lingering. Trent exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip on your hip tightening.  "You're making it hard to pay attention," he whispered, his tone lower now, rougher. His resolve was slipping, and you could feel it, in fact, you relished in it. You sank further into his side, emboldened, his hand sliding slowly down your thigh, fingers pressing just a little firmer, as if testing himself. He was going to break soon. You both knew it.

"Just give me one kiss," you whined, finally succumbing to begging. You knew exactly what you were doing, pressing against Trent, eyes wide and pleading.

"You're pushing our luck, pretty girl," he murmured, smirking down at you because he already knew-it wouldn't be one. It never was with you. It hadn’t ever been one, not even since your first kiss.

"One, please." You pouted, tilting your head sweetly.

"One," he confirmed, his fingers grazing your cheek before cupping your jaw, his voice softer now. Your eyes lit up as he caved. "C'mere, baby, never say no to you." He pulled you closer, lips meeting yours in a kiss that was meant to be quick, controlled. But he was right in his assumption-it wasn't just one. It spiraled fast, your body moving onto his more, pressing into him, your fingers twisting in his jumper as you pushed for more. A quiet moan escaped your lips, muffled between kisses, and that was enough to have Trent pulling back, knowing one second longer, he’d have no restraint, his lips slick and parted, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "Baby..." he smirked, shaking his head, exhaling, hating that he had to stop this. "You can't kiss me like that... c'mon." He chuckled, but there was a glint in his eye, one that betrayed his self-control. Even with that effort, he couldn’t stop himself, still, he leaned in again, pecking your lips to hopefully suffice for now, but you weren't done-you chased after him, capturing his mouth in another kiss, longer, deeper. His grip on your waist tightened innately. "That's three. C'mon on, enough," he giggled quietly, shaking his head for the umpeenth time at your persistance. "You're making me hard." His voice was low, almost scolding, but his eyes burned with desire. His eyes flashed down between your bodies for your reference. 

"Mmm, please," you hummed, letting your hand drift between your bodies, following his sightline like a map, fingers teasing along his waistband. His whole body tensed.

"Nah, stop stop stop," he hushed, panicked yet breathless, hating himself for even saying it. You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, lips twitching into a teasing smile. 

"You want me to stop?" you asked, your voice dripping with mischief before you leaned in, peppering kisses back up his neck.

"Babyyy," he groaned through clearing his throat, his head tilting back as his resolve crumbled. You hadn't even started. "Can you just be a good girl for me and wait?" Trent quietly begged, his voice strained, his control hanging by a thread. He knew if you kept this up, he'd cave-pick you up, carry you straight to his room, and completely forget about the fact that you weren't alone in this house.

"I'm always a good girl for you," you whimpered, lips still dragging across his neck, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses against his warm skin. You felt him swallow thickly, his breath stuttering for just a second.

"You're not right now..." he murmured, his voice lower now, edged with something dangerous. His hands gripped your waist, holding you still, but not pushing you away. "You're being naughty." He reprimanded you yet, something cynically lustful in him, wanted you just like this for him. You smirked against his skin, reveling in the way his self-restraint was slipping and the way you could feel his body want yours. But before you could say anything else and tip him over the edge, Trent groaned and pulled you off him reluctantly, needing physical space or he would spin out, his hands firm on your shoulders as he held you at arm's length. His chest rose and fell a little heavier than before, and then-he hit you with it. His signature puppy-dog eyes, soft and pleading, his lips barely parted, silently begging you to stop before he completely lost his head.

"What… Are you mad? Am I in trouble?" you asked facetiously with teasing innocence, pouting up at him, blinking sweetly as if you hadn't just been seconds away from making him forget where he was. Trent smirked, shaking his head, finally letting his eyes slip shut as he exhaled a deep, shaky breath.

"You're testing me, baby." He whined, begging for mercy and some sort of rapport in a room with  his mates but more so… a room with your brother.

"Trentski, you're going to be uninvited if you don't shut the fuck up… Y/N, you've barely got an invite as is," Noah snapped, whipping around in annoyance, his patience running dangerously low as he’d been forced to listen to you and Trent whisper-lips peeling off one another every few seconds.

"Woww..." You snapped your head toward him, acting deeply offended, but not really, you knew you probably merited the call out. 

"Woah, woah, woah, so we're acknowledging this all now!?" Bailey suddenly interjected, looking around the room with wide eyes. He had been in and out of the group, closer with Aiden than the likes of Trent, but lately, he'd been making more appearances. Still, he was confused that everyone else in the room seemed utterly unbothered that you and Trent were so… together. "I thought I was supposed to turn a blind eye." He stated into the room blankly as the movie ticked on.

"Yeah, whatever, they're dating. Blah, blah, blah." Jack shook his head, disinterested, eyes remaining locked on the screen. Bailey's head snapped back toward Trent, blinking rapidly.

"So you ARE dating her?!" His voice was full of disbelief, recalling the last time he saw Trent at a party, swearing up and down he wasn't seeing you. Trent leaned back into the sofa with a smirk, pulling you tighter into his body, wrapping his arm around you.

"My girlfriend now, mate," he said smoothly, proudly, before looking at you for confirmation. You simply nodded, biting back a grin as he kissed your hair. 

"So you'd been fucking her?" Bailey's mouth opened and closed a few times before he blurted out. He was trying to sort out if he had made a misstep at that party. His face twisted in confusion, completely forgetting the very delicate dynamic of the room-i.e., you were sitting right there, Trent was your boyfriend, and Jack, your brother, was also present.

"Okay, let's not talk about my sex life... thanks, Bailey," you exhaled with an awkward giggle, eager to move past this conversation. Jack, who had attempted to remain silent since his confirmation, spoke up again somehow even more flatly, eyes keenly still fixed on the movie. 

"You don't have one.” He told you firmly.  “I don't know what you lot are talking about." He pushed, committing to his faux blissful ignorance. The boys in the room erupted into laughter.

"I heard it got good lately, though," Trent cheekily quipped, his dimples deepening. Noah's head snapped back toward him, glaring.

"You need to shut the fuck up, Trenty." Noah quipped, more annoyed that he was missing sections of the movie’s dialogue being interrupted by the fuss then Jack’s comfort level.

"Second, that. Shut up, mate," Jack grumbled, rolling his eyes as he turned up the volume, effectively ending the conversation. 

-

Once everyone had left after movie night but you and Trent remained curled up in your seat, caught between slow, lazy kisses and the warmth of each other’s embrace. The room was quiet now, save for the occasional hum of the house settling and the rhythmic sound of Trent’s fingers lightly tracing patterns on your back.

“This was the best movie night,” he murmured after a while, his voice low and content.

“How come?” You smiled against his jaw, giddy but genuinely curious too. 

“You, pretty girl.” He smirked, tilting his head back slightly to look at you. 

“I’ve had movie nights with you before…” You raised a playful eyebrow mildly confused.

“Not where I get to kiss you like this.” His voice was teasing but filled with something softer, something deeper. You felt warmth bloom in your chest as you pulled the blanket up around your shoulders, feigning nonchalance. Trent narrowed his eyes in curiosity as he watched you shift, but before he could question it, you slowly let your tank top straps slide down your shoulders, your thin top falling completely, exposing your tits to him. His breath hitched, and his jaw went slack momentarily with greed.

“What are you doing, baby?” he asked, his voice suddenly lower, rougher. You bit your lip, flashing him an innocent but utterly mischievous look. 

“I wanted to take this off.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, sultry and full of intent. Trent exhaled a sharp breath through his nose, his hands immediately gripping your hips. A slow grin spread across his face, his eyes alight with excitement—like a kid in a candy store.

“Yeah…” he laughed, already pulling you closer. “Definitely my favorite movie night.” He didn’t waste another second before capturing your lips, his hands eager to roam, knowing exactly where the rest of the night was headed.

And it went exactly where it was supposed to. The air in the dimly lit cinema room was thick with warmth, the scent of sweat and skin and something entirely yours and his intertwined. The afterglow of everything you’d just shared lingered between you, a hum in the quiet that neither of you wanted to break. Your body fit against Trent’s like you were made to be there, his warmth enveloping you, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, grounding you in something more than just physical. His fingers moved lazily across your back, tracing invisible shapes, an unconscious habit of his that made your skin prickle with awareness. It was different now, though—softer, slower. Like he was savoring the moment. Like he couldn’t quite believe you were here, bare and tangled with him, not just in his house, not just in his arms, but in his life. Completely. He inhaled you deeply, and you felt it more than you heard it, the way his chest expanded beneath your cheek, the way he held the breath as if trying to commit every single detail of this moment to memory. Then, his lips pressed into your hair, lingering there, warm and firm and reverent.

“I can’t wait to live every day of our lives together,” he murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. But you did. And it sank into you, deeper than you thought words ever could. Your breath caught as you lifted your head, shifting just enough so you could see his face. His dark eyes were already on you, full of something so raw, so unguarded, it made your chest tighten. He looked at you like you were something celestial—like an angel, ethereal and untouched by the world outside of this moment. But you knew better. You weren’t untouched. Life had hurt you, had shaped you, had made you cautious and hesitant and careful. And he knew that too but you were perfect to him even so. Everything he’d ever dreamed of right here, flush from love making and finally no tears. You were the definition of beautiful to him, stripped bare in every sense of the word, looking back at him with nothing but love.

“T…” you whispered, your voice softer than you intended, barely more than an exhale. But it was enough. His grip on you tightened, his fingers pressing into your waist like he was grounding himself in you, like he needed to make sure you were real. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He just watched you, waiting, giving you the space to say whatever was on your heart. “I just want you… forever.” The words left your lips so effortlessly, so naturally, like they had always been there, waiting for the right moment to be spoken. And in that moment, nothing had ever felt more right. A slow, breathless smile curved Trent’s lips, and his eyes softened in a way that made your stomach flip. Your own lips curled not into a smile completely but into something so pure and genuine just looking back at his face. Objectively, Trent was beautiful, the world knew that, the millions of people who followed him on social media knew that but the boy underneath you, not the professional male athlete, well, him too, but this one, your Trent, his eyes amorously looking back at you. This was it. This was the love of your life. 

The world saw him in moments of brilliance—spine straight, shoulders squared, fire licking at his heels as he moved. A force. A name they chant like a hymn. But here, in the hush between heartbeats, beneath the low glow of a room only meant for two, you saw him as he is. As he only allowed you to. Your gaze traced the angles of his face, the sculpted lines softened in the quiet. The sharp, regal cut of his cheekbones, kissed golden by the sun, the delicate shadow where his jaw met his throat. His skin, warm and deep, stretched smooth over the ridges and planes of him, the kind of beauty that didn’t just belong to him but felt borrowed from something greater—the earth, the sky, something divine. His lips—God, his lips. Full, expressive things, shaped by laughter, by whispered confessions, by the ghost of your name. You’ve felt them in every language love knows—against your body, your palm, your mouth, every inch of you. And his eyes… his eyes. They held galaxies, burnished pools of amber and honey, glowing even in the dim light. They were sharp in the world, reading spaces, calculating movements on the pitch, but here, they softened, cradled you in a way that made your ribs ache. You had seen them defiant, storm-bright with competition, you had seen them heavy-lidded with desire, but tonight—tonight, they were something else entirely. Vulnerable. Open. Trusting in a way that made your breath catch.

You wondered if Trent could ever really know just how completely you loved him. But he did. He felt it right now. They way you looked back at him. And not as the world looked at him, loved him—from a distance, in fleeting moments of glory—but in the quiet, in these spaces between. In the way your fingers mapped the constellation of freckles just under his eye. In the way your thumb brushed over the fullness of his pouty lower lip, as if committing its shape to memory, though it was already burned into you. You looked at each other like finally, and equally so, you two were the safest place either of you’d ever know. 

He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear bringing you towards him until your forehead rested against his, his breath warm against your lips as his hand slid down your body to its rightful place on your back again. The room was completely quiet except for the two hearts only beating for each other and the steady rhythm of your intertwined breaths. The dim glow of the screen had long since faded into the background, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other and the magnitude of the moment. Trent’s arms held you close, skin to skin, nothing between you but the weight of unspoken emotions finally finding their voice.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it was heavy with meaning. Your name—just your name, not ‘pretty girl’ or any of the affectionate pet names that usually dripped from his lips like honey. It was deliberate. It was raw. It was real. He didn’t seal it with a kiss, didn’t mask it with playful teasing or cheeky grins. No, this was different. This was serious. You felt your chest tighten as he continued, his words slow, careful, like he was choosing each one with the weight they deserved. “I cannot wait for you to live with me. For this to be our home. For us to have our space, a space for us, a space to create our life.” His thumb brushed absently over the bare skin of your back, tracing slow, soothing circles as if grounding himself in the truth of what he was saying. You swallowed, hard. “You want that, right?” His voice dipped with a hint of uncertainty, a vulnerability he so rarely showed. “Or if you want a new house, I’ll buy you one, anything you want, whatever you want.” His words started to tumble faster, as if he needed you to know—truly know—that there were no limits to what he would do for you. But he didn’t need to say any of that. Not to you. You nodded, your throat too tight with emotion to form a response. It was all you could do. Trent exhaled, his lips curling into a small, almost bashful smile—a momentary flicker of relief before something else settled into his expression. Something deeper. Something final. “Because, baby…” He paused, his fingers tracing the length of your spine before sliding up to cradle your face in his hands. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Just like this. Me and you… forever.” He whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Forever.”  Forever. The word didn’t scare you. Not with him. You knew—you had always known. He wasn’t just a moment. He wasn’t just a night. He was everything. He was the start of forever. Your eyes burned, and the first tear tipped over before you could stop it. But it wasn’t sadness. It was something purer, something weightless. A happiness so deep it ached.

“Forever…” you echoed, your voice trembling as you leaned in, your lips just a breath away from his. “And every movie night in between.” Trent let out a soft chuckle, but it was thick with emotion, his hands tightening on your cheeks as if he could hold the moment in place. He gently pulled you closer, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so slow, so deep, it stole the air from your lungs. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world because you did. This was it. You were it. There was no rush, like he was certain this moment—this love—was infinite. It wasn’t rushed, never desperate, but slow and sure, a promise sealed in the softness of your lips against his. When you pulled back, you barely made it an inch before retreating into him, burying your face in the nape of his neck, unable to hold his gaze any longer without breaking completely. His arms came around you instantly, strong and secure, his hands splayed wide against your back as if he could shield you from the intensity of what you were feeling. But you didn’t need shielding. You just needed him. And you had him. Forever. So you stayed like that, wrapped in each other, in a silence that spoke louder than words ever could. The kind of silence that didn’t need filling, the kind that stretched beyond tonight, beyond tomorrow, beyond every moment to come. And you knew—you knew—you’d have this embrace for the rest of your lives.

-

“Lads, was thinking a little end-of-summer hang at mine… how we feeling about it?” Noah piped up from his seat at the table as the boys were all out grabbing some lunch, barely glancing up as he casually pitched the idea. Across from him, Jack shrugged, his nonchalance laced with an obvious ‘yeah, sure.’ Aiden, on the other hand, perked up slightly.

“Yeah, down. We doing a film?” he asked, more out of curiosity than excitement. At that, Trent sat up a little straighter, chewing on his food thoughtfully. End of summer also meant the end of his off season. Aka preseason was fast approaching, and he was already knee-deep in training ahead of that. The carefree nights were numbered, so any chance to spend them with the boys before the madness began was worth considering. But his nights with you were also limited before he had to leave with the team for the preseason matches. But before Trent could even offer a response, Jack—always attuned to his best mate’s hesitations—zeroed in on him immediately.

“Trentski, Y/N comes to fucking everything. C’mon now.” Jack smirked, shaking his head. “Don’t be such a melt about her, Jesus, mate.” He teased, catching Trent’s pause and knowing immediately where it stemmed from. Aiden chuckled, picking up on the teasing immediately. 

“Yeah, just order another drink, lad. Lighten up. She’s not going anywhere.” He slid Trent’s half-full beer toward him like an offering. Trent, who’d barely touched it to begin with, side-eyed him before pushing it right back. He certainly didn’t want another, he’d been nursing this one, while the other boys were on round three or maybe it was four. But then, there was a pause. A slight, barely perceptible shift in Noah’s expression. It wasn’t much—just a flicker of hesitation before he spoke again. And that alone was enough to set off alarm bells in the group.

“I wasn’t thinking a movie night…” Noah finally admitted, carefully choosing his words. Aiden’s brow raised in inquiry. “Thought, you know, invite the lot. Not a party or anything, but just the gang, get me?” Noah leaned back feigning a casualness that was not there, praying the other boys believed him. Naively or maybe hopefully he was wishing they understood and accepted the evening plans offer and didn’t sure for the ‘why.’ But Trent was quick to glance at Jack, biting his lip to stop from smiling. Noah’s statement should’ve been simple enough. But the way he said it? The hesitation? The boys knew something was up. So Jack took it upon himself to be the first to call bullshit, his eyes narrowed and pointed his fork at Noah. 

“Ah yeah, No?” Jack said while trying (and failing) to suppress his smirk. “Not a party. Got it. Just the gang.” He repeated mockingly, his tone dripping with sarcasm, Noah was quickly losing ground. His face fell flat, unimpressed. His jaw twitched ever so slightly, but he knew better than to take the bait too soon. Trent, picking up on the moment of hesitation, leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table with a smirk that was now fully formed. 

“So… just out of curiosity,” he started, dragging out his words like he had all the time in the world, “who exactly is the gang?” It was hard to not take the bait when Trent and Jack were practically hurling at Noah. But they were met with silence. The table went still—except for the barely-contained amusement radiating from everyone but Noah. The air was thick with unspoken grins, Aiden already bracing himself for whatever was about to unfold. Noah exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. 

“I’m just saying let’s have a fun night, lads… why’s this a big deal? I’m just saying it’s open for the whole lot. You can bring your fucking girlfriends because you’d all whine about it if they weren’t there!” His voice edged on exasperated, trying so hard to play it cool. Jack and Trent exchanged a knowing glance—silent communication at its finest. They could destroy him for this. Absolutely rip him to shreds. But, perhaps out of mercy (or maybe just to prolong the suffering), they decided to ease up just a bit. If Noah went shy about something, it clearly mattered. There’d be plenty of time for jokes later, but maybe, just maybe, they’d let him have a little dignity. For now. Although, in true form, Trent was unable to resist at least one more jab.

“Is my girlfriend allowed to bring a friend?”  He raised a casual brow. Jack immediately jumped in before Noah could respond. 

“Yeah, ‘course… Noah said the whole gang.” His voice was laced with mock innocence, making sure Noah knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. Trent, now fully leaning into it, continued on mercilessly. 

“If Y/N’s there, usually a Layla is in tow. They’re a package deal.” His words were directed at Jack, but the pointed implication at Noah was obvious. Noah ran a hand down his face, muttering under his breath. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, run your mouths… scumbags.” His poor attempt at indifference was met with quiet chuckles all around the table. But then, in a quick pivot, Noah’s eyes snapped directly to Trent. 

“Also—you are a fucking package deal with Y/N. Whiny baby at the mere idea of plans without her. At least Lays lets the girl breathe. You can’t go a day without fucking her. Tongue down her throat so often I don’t know how air gets in” Noah quipped. Aiden muffled a hearty laugh, a snicker, barely able to hold it in his chest. Jack immediately stiffened. 

“Alright, that’s my sister.” He side-eyed Noah with warning, but it only made the rest of the table react with full blown laughter. Trent leaned back, shaking his head with a grin, clearly unfazed. 

“And?” He taunted. Jack groaned, shaking his head as Aiden whistled lowly, thoroughly entertained.

“Also… so it’s “Lays” now, huh?” Aiden piped up, glancing at Noah with faux intrigue. “Nicknames and everything… next thing we know, we’ll have another ‘pretty girl’ on our hands.” He joked. Jack finally let out a laugh now that he wasn’t the punching bag for the moment. Noah, however, simply shot Aiden an unamused look, his jaw twitching again in frustration. Trent, feeling particularly cheeky, smirked. 

“Aye, she is a pretty girl. Suits her.” He retorted. That was met with a collective groan from the group. 

“Eugh…Jesus Christ. Get a grip mate.” Jack fake gagged. 

“I hate it here.” Aiden dramatically dropped his head onto the table. Noah? He just exhaled sharply, looking as if he was deeply reconsidering his entire life’s choices. And Trent? He just grinned, because he knew—oh, he knew—Noah was fucked and he knew he had you; two things he relished in. 

-

The night had been set. Noah, true to his word (and despite his obvious reluctance to face the relentless teasing of his mates), had invited the whole “gang” over. That meant all the usual suspects—the core friend group, a few casual girls, Megan, you—and, of course, the highly anticipated guest of the evening: Layla. 

When Noah had sent her a direct text, Layla had lost her mind. She had fully expected to just tag along after you mentioned the plans earlier that day. A quiet ‘oh yeah, I’ll just come with you’ situation. Instead? She had been graced with a direct, intentional invite. And the text? The text was attempting to be cool, casual, nonchalant. But after Trent spilled per the gossip he was, Noah was anything but cool—he had assured you that there was nothing casual about the effort Noah had put into pressing send.

'Yo Lays, come through to mine tonight, yeah? Just chilling but love to have you there.'

She had read it approximately seven times, screenshotted it, sent it to you with a hundred exclamation points, then immediately called you in a panic.

“Does this mean something?” Layla screeched the second you picked up the phone. You pulled it away from your ear with a wince. 

“Layla, I have no idea!” You replied mildly smug but also taking Trent’s words with a grain of salt. 

“He said he’d love to have me there!” she emphasized, like that changed everything. And to be fair it was quite a way to phrase a personal text… You didn’t even get a real invite. 

“He did say that,” you admitted, keeping your tone deliberately even.

“What does it mean?!” she wailed. You sighed, leaning back against your pillows. 

“Lays, it means you’re going to Noah’s house tonight, so come over and get dressed.” You explained calmly which caused her to pause. 

“You’re not taking this seriously.” She whined and you could hear her jump up and down in a panic.

“Oh no, I’m taking this very seriously,” you teased. “That’s why I’m making sure you look so good that if he doesn’t confess his undying love, he’ll at least be in pain about it.” You joked. 

“I hate you.” Layla groaned, flopping dramatically onto her own bed. 

“And yet, I know you already know you’re going to be on your way to mine in five.” You giggled. 

“You’re no help.” She sat up, pouting. 

“I quite literally am helping…” You hummed smug. “Now, get over here before I start picking out your outfit without you.” You told her. A pause. Then, a sigh.

 “Leaving in five, be there in fifteen, in a full panic attack in twenty.” She told you in a huff.

“And looking sexy in twenty-five! A girl like Layla you know!!!!!” You yelled teasingly. You could feel her eyes roll through the phone but she let out a giggle she couldn't fight back before hanging up. And so, outfits were planned accordingly. Layla—after a brief existential crisis and several outfit changes—had finally settled on something that struck the balance between I didn’t try too hard and but you will absolutely want me tonight. A casual yet calculated look that had zero chance of not catching eyes, specifically Noah’s. If she was igniting a flame tonight, she was making damn sure it burned bright. And you? Well, you were dressing for an entirely different reason. Your fire was already burning—blazing, actually—and if there was one thing you knew about Trent, it was that he loved when you stoked it.

-

The night had blurred into a haze of laughter, the low hum of music, and the occasional clink of glasses, popped bottles, tabs being cracked open, a cocktail shaker Megan brought because she didn’t understand how Noah didn’t own one. It had spiraled in the way everyone said it wouldn’t but knew it would. Everything was as it should be. The whole squad was present, a mess of conversations that faded into a buzzing static, laughter that barely registered, but none of it—not a single word, not a single drink—held your attention. Not when Trent’s hand was on you. He had kept you tethered to him all night, fingers firm and possessive against your body. Not just your back—no, lower than that. His palm was bold, settled on the swell of your ass, squeezing subtly whenever someone came too close. You’d tried to behave, really, you had. It was a small gathering, intimate enough that any misstep would be noticed, called out if only to tease you two. But as the hours dragged on and the drinks kept flowing, something inside you twisted with impatience. Where was the pull, the unspoken challenge, the way he used to push you to the edge just to watch you unravel? Where was the spark? The one you tried so hard to add kindle to with your choice of outfit… You had dressed for this! Sheer, barely-there top [index ref] clinging to you in all the ways that should drive him mad. And yet, Trent had been… good. Too good.

And you were drunk. Not just tipsy—drunk enough that the thought alone had you pouting, warm and restless against him. Was this what happened now? The fire dulled, the games stopped? You worried that now that you were together, moving in together, was the spark you craved gone. You couldn’t decide if the disappointment sat heavier in your chest or between your thighs. What you didn’t know—what you should have known—was that Trent was the one currently unraveling. You were standing just slightly in front of him, angled in a way that left him helpless to his own hunger. One arm was wrapped lazily around your waist, a show of casual intimacy, a front to the room. But the other? That one was just for you and more so, for him. And God, you were letting him. You barely flinched when his fingers crept past the waistband of your mini skirt, sliding slow and deliberate, teasing at the sensitive skin beneath, gazing over the lace of your thong, occasionally pulling it taut. Minutes stretched into hours, and his hands never stopped, you found yourself sinking into frustration, your body thrumming with unspoken need. You leaned into it, needing more, parting your lips, and that was nearly his undoing. He was trying to listen to Bailey’s story, really. But it was impossible when you were in his arms like this, when every shift of your body pressed you further into his hand. In fact, you had let his hand move from being tucked coyly into the waist of your skirt to letting him graze over the fabric only to slip completely underneath its hem to knead the curve of your bare ass. He was crumbling every time he caught the way the light seeped through the sheer fabric of your top offering nothing but temptation. Your body on full display taunting him as your cleavage highlighted under the fabric he wanted to rip off. And the curve of your pouty lips in a silent plea, desperate and needy ��� It was too much. And you weren’t stopping him—no, you were encouraging him, melting into his touch, hips tilting just enough to let his fingers knead deeper. He felt lightheaded, his self-control stretched impossibly thin. And then you whimpered. Soft, barely audible, but enough, just for him. He snapped.

“Now.” His voice was rough, urgent, the whisper ghosting against the shell of your ear as he bent down. Your head snapped back to him, eyes dazed, but his lips were already there, brushing against your skin, pressing a kiss just below your ear. His breath was warm, desperate. “Need you,” he murmured, his lips ghosted over your skin again, the words rough and thick with restraint. The words were barely above a whisper, but they sent a violent shudder through your body. You swallowed hard, pulse hammering. Then his hand was gone, slipping from beneath your skirt, only to find your fingers and lace them with his. Bailey was still talking, the rest of the party sounded muted, like you were hearing it from underwater, like none of it was real anymore. The only thing real was the grip of his hand around yours, the way his body was vibrating behind you, how tightly wound he was from holding back all night. No one batted an eye. It was a small-ish group, and as confining as that felt, it also meant no one asked questions. You followed him without hesitation, without looking back, because suddenly you weren’t worried about the spark fading. Not when Trent still burned for you like this. No one even turned their head as he pulled you away, casual and easy, like nothing was amiss. But between you two, everything was about to come undone.

—

The moment you were out of sight, it was over. Trent barely made it a few steps down the dimly lit corridor before he was on you, hands gripping, lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was messy and desperate, all tongue and heat. You gasped into his mouth, but he swallowed the sound, pressing you back into the wall like he needed you there, needed you closer. The house was dark, only faint streaks of neon slipping in from the party behind you, flashing erratically against the walls. The bass was heavy from Noah’s speakers, reverberating through the floorboards, but it felt like a distant echo compared to the way Trent was consuming you. He kissed you like a man starved, like he’d been holding himself back all night and now that restraint had snapped. You could taste the liquor on his tongue, sweet and sharp, mixing with your own, intoxicating in a way that had nothing to do with the drinks you’d thrown back. His hands roamed, impatient, fingers pressing over your curves, slipping under the sheer fabric of your top, mapping out every inch of you like he was relearning the shape of you.

He kissed down your neck, hot and wet, sucking bruises into your skin, and you whimpered, legs already feeling like they might give out beneath you. He felt it, too, because suddenly his hands were gripping your thighs, hooking under them, and before you could process it, he was lifting you up, gripping your ass as you wrapped your legs around his waist. A gasp left your lips, but it turned into a moan when his hips rolled against yours, the friction igniting something deep in your core.

“Fuck,” Trent groaned against your skin, breath ragged. He was still moving, still stumbling toward a door, he usually would know it’s location but his mouth never left you, trailing wet kisses along your jaw, your throat, your collarbone as he continued to search. You weren’t helping. You were just as lost, just as drunk on him, tilting your head to give him more access, one hands nails scratching at the nape of his neck, the other tugging at his curls. You could barely think. This was supposed to be a casual hangout, just a night with friends. But it had spiraled unexpectedly expected, quickly, beautifully, into this—into you and Trent, unable to wait, unable to breathe without each other. His grip on you tightened as he reached for the door handle, fumbling blindly. His other hand was still holding you up, keeping you flush against him, his hard, warm body pressed perfectly against yours.

“T,” you gasped, your voice wrecked with want. He groaned in response, forehead dropping to yours, his breath fanning hot against your lips. 

“I know, baby. I know.” He hummed. The door gave way. And then, suddenly, you were inside. You were desperate, needy, your teeth grazing along Trent’s jaw as your hands fumbled with the hem of his shirt, tugging, impatient, even as he stumbled forward into the room. His grip on you was solid, sure, holding you up as if letting go wasn’t an option. Your lips barely left his, tongues tangling, breath heavy and erratic as he walked you further inside. You didn’t care where he was taking you—just that he was taking you. But then—

“Fuck.” A whine heard in the room. Not from Trent. Not from you. His body tensed beneath your hands, his lips pausing against your skin. And then, before you could process the shift, he let you slide down his body, placing you unsteadily on your feet. The moment your heels hit the floor, reality crashed into you. The room wasn’t empty. The low lighting and the intoxicating haze made everything slow to register, but then you heard it—the unmistakable sound of breathlessness and muffled movement. And as your vision adjusted, you spotted them. Two figures, tangled together in the dimness.

“Bro, out.” Noah’s voice was low, distracted, barely phased by the intrusion as he pressed his lips against the side of Layla’s throat. He didn’t even turn to look, too lost in the moment, too caught up in her. And Layla—Layla, whose breath hitched, whose fingers clutched at Noah’s wrist before suddenly realizing what was happening—He had Layla and that was what he wanted, he didn’t care. And what he did care about made Layla gasp, eyes shooting open

“Noa…Wait, stop, baby!” She gasped, her voice torn between pleasure and panic. Her voice was breathless, pushing his wrist away from her. Trent, in his drunken curiosity, flicked the light on, not sure who it was. No malice, no thought—just sheer drunk innocent confusion. And there they were. Layla, perched on the dresser, breathless, flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. One of Noah’s hands was pinned against the wall beside her head holding her wrist beneath it, the other moved from somewhere far more scandalous to grip her thigh possessively, Layla’s hand latched to that wrist. Her skirt was bunched up at her hips, her top completely missing—only a lace bra remained, paired with wide, horrified eyes as she realized just who had walked in. Noah—half-dressed, still panting, his hair messier than he’d prefer—finally turned, blinking against the sudden brightness. Your jaw dropped. Your feet refused to move. The sheer absurdity of it all had you frozen.

“I think this room’s occupied,” Trent said with the cheekiest, most shit-eating grin, his arm curling around your waist as he dragged you back to reality.

“Nah, mate…. Just.” Noah’s voice was gruff, words stuttering as he tried—and failed—to form a coherent sentence. He exhaled sharply, his hold on Layla loosening, creating a sliver of space between them like the interruption had killed his chances entirely.

“Guys, stop!” Layla squeaked, half-laughing, half-horrified at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. Still, she reached for Noah, pulling him back by the waist, reassuring him while simultaneously shielding herself from further embarrassment. “We’re in the middle of something, so if you don’t mind…” She looked at you and Trent. The smirk on your lips was uncontrollable. “We kept your secret.” Layla arched a brow at you half teasing but half challenging.

“Did you?” Trent squinted, skepticism laced through his voice as if he genuinely couldn’t remember.

“Yes!” Layla and Noah yelped in unison, both looking equally offended before dissolving into a cute giggle at each other's unified response, the tension breaking. Layla groaned between laughs, dropping her forehead against Noah’s bare chest, as if hiding from the second-hand embarrassment. Your eyes bugging as you looked at them.

“Still, whatever! Noah's with Layla!” you blurted out, voice high and giddy, the alcohol making you ten times more childish. Trent only laughed, drunk and delighted by your antics, enamored by how cute you were, his fingers playing idly at your waist. Neither of you had any grasp of personal boundaries at this point eliciting a scoff from Noah. 

“Trenty, you think I’m above taking a swing at you right now? Shut the fuck up.” Noah quipped. keeping one arm wrapped around Layla but playfully threw a half-assed swat toward Trent, who winced dramatically, though his grin never wavered. While they were caught in their own best-friend exchange, you turned back to Layla, eyes twinkling. 

“Ooooh, Layla.” You sang her name in amusement, your gaze flickered to the fresh hickey blooming on her collarbone, telling a silent story.

“Y/N!” Layla gasped, mortified but still giggling. No one was mad. No one. It was all too funny, too ridiculous, too messy in the way only drunken nights could be with friends. But it was dragging out now. There was a line that needed to be drawn. 

“Shhh, baby, alright.” Trent sighed dramatically, still amused but shaking his head deciding you two should leave before suddenly bending down and scooping you up in his arms. 

“The light, mate,” Noah called out asking as Trent turned, carrying you effortlessly toward the door. Trent didn’t even hesitate. 

“How about the lock, mate?” he shot back, mocking, earning another giggle from you. “You. Shhh,” he hushed, though he was failing at stifling his own laughter, burying his face in your neck, pressing playful nibbles against your skin.

“T!” you whined, squirming in his hold as his stubble tickled you.

“C’mon,” he murmured against your jaw, voice low and promising. “You and I need to find somewhere else to go anyway.” You smirked.

“Mmm, that sounds like much more fun.” His lips brushed yours, teasing, before he grinned. 

“I promise you’ll have a lot of fun.” And with that, he carried you off, the night far from over.

-

After you and Trent left Layla and Noah to it, you found yourselves in an unoccupied guest bedroom at the party. The air was thick with the remnants of your passion, the scent of his cologne mixed with yours, the heat of your bodies still lingering. Your skin glowed, lips swollen from the way he’d devoured you, hands shaky from the highs you’d just ridden together. Clothes were back on, but the intimacy hadn’t faded. If anything, it clung to the both of you, as palpable as the sweat on your skin.

Seated on the edge of the bed, you watched as Trent kneeled before you, his broad hands working to buckle the closure of your heels back onto your ankles. The tender press of his lips against your skin sent a shiver up your spine, his fingers ghosting over your calves, then higher, grazing along your thighs with an unhurried caress. His touch was reverent, like he was still worshipping the very ground you walked on. And you let him, let yourself bask in the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that had ever mattered. Your heart swelled, eyes softening as you drank him in. He was beautiful, achingly so, and perfectly yours. If anyone saw you now, they’d think you were some lovestruck fool, cartoon hearts practically popping around your head. And you were. God, you were. Trent’s hands slid to your knees as he stood, looming above you with a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. His dimples carved deep into his cheeks, and the sight made your stomach flip.

“So, you gonna tell me what you were pouting about earlier?” he asked smugly, cocking his head as he regarded you. You huffed, dropping your gaze before rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. You'd fucked the alcohol out your system, still your logic no better now you were intoxicated by him.

“I thought you didn’t want to have sex with me.” You pouted again, more childishly this time, but the sentiment was real. Trent let out a light laugh, shaking his head. 

“Baby, baby, baby…” He drawled, his voice like honey, rich and teasing. He leaned in, hands squeezing your thighs as his gaze bore into yours. “Two things—when, genuinely when, have I ever not wanted to fuck the daylights out of you?” His brows raised, waiting for your answer, though he already knew it. You giggled, heat creeping up your neck. You knew he was right, but that didn’t mean you’d admit it. “Since the moment I was allowed to have you, it’s been you on my mind 24/7.” His voice was softer now, a confession laid bare. “And second thing…” His grip on your thighs tightened ever so slightly, his lips a breath away from yours. “Pretty girl, I was palming your ass under your skirt mid-conversation. Be realistic here. How long did you think I was gonna last with you pouting up at me, grinding back into me like that?” He looked at you smugly and almost tauntingly. Your eyes widened, jaw dropping.

“I was not grinding back on you!” you yelped, feigning indignation. He scoffed, grinning as he pulled back just enough to get a better look at your face. 

“You can think what you want, but baby, I know you.” He leaned back in again, lips brushing against yours so lightly it made your stomach flutter. “I know when you want me… I’ve known for years.” You rolled your eyes.

“Honestly…”  You groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the bed in faux distress. Trent just laughed, shaking his head fondly.

“C’mere, pretty girl.” He tugged at your wrist, pulling you up with ease. His touch was gentle, but his eyes held something deeper. Something more serious. “I knew. And you knew I wanted you. Still, none of that matters now. Not when you’re mine. And you promised me you'd be forever…” His voice dropped, turning hushed, almost reverent. The weight of his words settled over you, warm and grounding. “So, sorry. Games done now.” He smirked, pulling you up from the bed.

“Forever… " You confirmed. "Still bare, you know.” You wiggled your left hand at him, showing off the empty space where a ring could be. He caught your hand, bringing it to his lips. His kiss was slow, deliberate, pressed right against your left knuckle. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet but unwavering.

“And I promise.”  He whispered, pulling you to stand up with him. A shiver ran down your spine at the certainty in his eyes, at the way he said it like it was already set in stone. 

“Okay, good.” You pecked his lips playfully, breaking the weight of the moment with a teasing grin. “And it never was a game. Had you in the palm of my hand the whole time.” You smirked, stepping past him, but not before throwing a wink over your shoulder as you made your way to the door.

Trent stayed behind for a second, watching you disappear into the hall. He shook his head to himself, smiling like a fool, his heart hammering in his chest. The room still smelled like you, like the love you had just shared. He ran a hand down his face, exhaling deeply as he sat back onto the bed, his mind spinning. This wasn’t just some fleeting moment, not just another night tangled in each other. This was everything. His whole life, you’d been there—his best friend’s little sister, the girl he wasn’t supposed to want but always did. And now, you were his.

He pressed his palms together, letting his elbows rest on his knees as he stared at the floor, a breathless chuckle escaping him. He had spent years convincing himself this would never happen, that the feelings he harbored were reckless and impossible. He never had peace of mind if it wasn’t you. But with you, finally, his head was clear. No care about the mess that you two took to get to tonight. Here you were, proving him wrong at every turn, there was nothing to go back on, not even a question. It was right. And that thought? That thought made him want forever with you even more. And so he stood up and chased you down the corridor, grabbing you by your waist from behind. You giggled as he picked you up, kissing your neck. The sound of your laughter echoing in the hallway. A sound, he’d never realized he’d cherished his whole life and now, he knew he’d spend the rest of his life just that way, completely unchanged, cherishing that soft coquettish giggle like you two promised. Forever.

-

As you and Trent stepped back into the party, the heat between you still lingered, impossible to shake. The dimmed lighting and bass-heavy music did little to mask the way Trent’s fingers felt on you. You reached to him and brushed your thumb over a smudge of your lip gloss left on Trent's neck, a satisfied little smirk playing on your lips as you wiped away the evidence of what had just transpired between you. Trent, ever the menace, caught your wrist before you could fully pull away and pressed a lingering kiss to your palm, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. The atmosphere had remained lively without you, music pulsing through the house, drinks flowing freely. You tried to act as if nothing had gone on, as if you hadn't just been tangled up in Trent moments ago, but the way his hand stayed glued to your waist, the way his fingers skimmed idly over your skin, told an entirely different story. And apparently, you weren’t as subtle as you thought. Jack barely spared you both a glance before dramatically rolling his eyes. 

"You are so shit at subtlety.” He said before taking a big sip of his drink. It wasn't directed at you, more so at Trent. Megan stood in his arms slapped at his chest playfully.  “Y’know that? Actually embarrassing. I’m just gonna ignore you until you look like you haven’t just been—” He gestured with his hand towards you jokingly, Trent only grinned, tightening his hold around your waist. 

“Alright, alright!” you cut in quickly, your face heating up as Trent just laughed, unbothered as ever.

“You do that, mate.” Trent teased, unfazed, his thumb still rubbing small, slow circles into your hip. “Just coming back to be with everyone,” he smirked 

"Yeah, it's the where from that’s the problem," Jack muttered, turning back to his conversation with Megan, shaking his head with a smile. He’d tease you, probably for the rest of your life but if you and Trent were as happy as you two looked, that was alright with him. 

You barely had time to process the exchange before Trent suddenly turned his attention elsewhere. Across the room, Layla sat perched on a marble countertop, her legs lazily swinging, deep in discussion with Noah. Their faces very close. Trent’s smirk deepened as he strolled over, you in tow clinging to his bicep.

"That’s not where I thought I saw you sitting last, Lays." He cooed. Layla nearly choked on her drink.  Her head whipped toward him, eyes narrowing. Noah stiffened for half a second before stepping back from his spot between her legs. Noah, catching on instantly, immediately began shadow-boxed toward Trent. 

"Oh, you wanna talk, yeah?” Noah challenged playfully. He laughed, throwing a playful punch in Trent’s direction. You giggled and Noah’s gaze flicked to you. “Yeah? Trenty’s so funny.” He went for a left hook towards Trent jokingly.  Trent, the king of having no consequence in the aftermath of his teasing, let out a laugh and swiftly yanked you in front of him as a shield, quick as ever, ducking behind you. You gasped dramatically at the force of the pull. 

“Hey, don’t bring her into this!” He giggled like a little boy, peeking out from behind you with a shit-eating grin.

"T!" you whined and then shook your head in faux disappointment. Jack, enjoying the show, barked out a laugh.

"Nah, should see this coming, Y/N. Trenty will throw you under the bus every time.” He teased. Trent’s jaw slacked in offense at the joke causing his focus to lapse momentarily just as Noah threw another fake jab, but in the nick of time, Trent caught his wrist with a smirk reaching around your body. He chuckled as he pushed Noah back with a firm pat to the chest. 

"Alright, alright, go to our corners, yeah?" he laugh, giving Noah a playful shove. Layla, shaking her head at the lot of you, hopped off the counter, her eyes already gleaming with purpose as she grabbed a bottle of Don Julio 42, raising it with a triumphant grin. 

"Perfect! Because we’re going to ours. Bye!" she declared, before you could react, she was grabbing your arm to pull you away, already anticipating the debrief that needed to happen. But Trent wasn’t letting you go just yet. His hand found your waist again, pulling you back into him for another moment. His arm tightened around you, pulling you flush against him for a lingering second. He leaned down, voice soft and affectionate. 

"Love you so, so much, pretty girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. Your heart swelled, and as you turned to press a gentle kiss to his lips, you whispered a single word against them, a promise.

“Forever." you whispered. His eyes held yours for a moment, something deeper settling between you. Trent exhaled through his nose, nodding with a wink as he took your hand from Layla’s grasp and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the very finger he knew would someday bear something more. The small, intimate gesture went unnoticed by everyone else, but you felt its weight settle in your chest, warm and full. Your cheeks burned as Layla giggled at your smittenness and yanked you harder, dragging you away before you could get lost in Trent’s touch again, needing to gossip. Now.

“Aye, bring her back, yeah?” Noah called after you both lazily, earning himself a knowing glance from Layla over her shoulder, her sultry gaze dripping with mischief. He just winked in return. Your jaw dropped in mock surprise, teasingly feigning innocence as if you had no clue what had gone down between them earlier. 

“Oh, I think you’ll be just fine.” You cooed back to Noah. His grin widened. Layla rolled her eyes, taking you away, and just before you disappeared down the hall, you caught Trent’s lingering gaze, a small smirk playing on his lips. You knew exactly what he was thinking. Yeah, forever sounded pretty damn good.

-

The day you were meant to move into Trent’s house, everything felt surreal. You’d been here a million times before—you remembered when he bought the house, the excitement in his voice when he first showed you around. You remember him bashfully asking your opinions on trivial things like blankets at one point. Unbeknownst to you at the time, it was a desperate attempt hoping you’d like them enough when you were over that you’d share one with him. You remembered when he bought his family a house first, making sure they were taken care of before he eventually moved out, choosing this one for himself. And now, after years of history and a slow-burn love that neither of you had ever truly anticipated reaching this point, you were moving in. It was almost laughable how, as a teenager, you had once imagined some wild what-if scenario where you ended up here. But now, as an adult, as his, it was no longer a fantasy—it was your life. Trent had offered to get a new house when you first talked about living together, but you loved this one. It wasn’t just the architecture or the open space; it was the little things, the back garden that already held pieces of him—a turf field for late-night pick up games of footie, a paddle court where his competitive streak came out and made the news, the cinema room that had seen more films than you could count. It was his, and now, it was yours too.

Pushing open the front door for the first time as it’s resident, you let out a breathless giggle, your eyes widening at the extravagant floral arrangements and giant balloons spelling out Welcome Home.

“You’re home!” Trent’s voice echoed through the foyer as he came running towards you like an overexcited kid, his grin wide, dimples deep. His perfectly plump pink lips curled. His playfulness was obvious, but the sincerity in his eyes made your heart ache in the best way.

“Hi, baby, yeah,” you murmured, your giggle muffled against his shoulder as he wrapped you up in a tight hug. “Home.” You whispered, holding him. He hummed, swaying you back and forth, his arms firm and warm around you, grounding you in this moment. Settling in felt natural. Trent handed you an actual key, even though most things were locked by a keypad. You knew he’d insist on you having every form of access possible—like he needed you to know this place was truly yours now. Movers were scheduled to bring your things in the afternoon, but Trent had other priorities. He tugged on your hand with childlike excitement, urging you upstairs.

“T, I’ve been here a hundred times, why are you doing this,” you laughed, amused at his eagerness.

“Just c’mon, pretty girl.” His grip was firm yet gentle, his energy contagious. You followed, your heart thrumming as he led you through the house. Finally, you stopped at his wardrobe—a massive room, once filled wall-to-wall with neatly organized trainers, warm-toned hoodies, and endless piles of footie gear. But now, it was starkly different. Three-quarters of the space was nearly empty—drawers left open in invitation, pristine hangers waiting for your things, racks that once housed his collection now standing bare. And amidst the emptiness, a single shoebox sat on the shelf, standing out in the white expanse. You hesitated, glancing back at Trent, and he nodded, encouraging you to open it. Slowly, you reached for the box, fingers delicate as you lifted the lid. Nestled inside, wrapped in tissue paper and protected by dust bags, were the most breathtaking Versace Crystal Butterfly wrap heels. Your breath hitched. Your vision blurred. It wasn’t just the beauty of the shoes—it was everything. The symbolism, the thought behind it, the way he always saw you in ways that sometimes even you struggled to see yourself.

“Just thought…” Trent’s voice was softer now, edged with something raw, something deeper. “Good first thing in your wardrobe. You know, a fresh start with me. But you—you can move forward freely now, take flight, something like that.” He offered that lazy, handsome smile, but there was a nervousness underneath it, like he hoped you understood what he meant beyond just the words. Your throat tightened as you turned to him, eyes glassy. The butterflies—your motif, your reminder of growth, of your mum, of every change you had been brave enough to embrace—felt so impossibly real in this moment. As if they were fluttering inside you, around you, as if they had carried you here. “First of many gifts I'll get ya in this house.” He laughed softly but with some ever present cheek he held, pulling you from your trance. But when he saw the way you were looking at him, saw the sheer depth of emotion in your eyes, his own softened. “C’mere. Love you so much.” You placed the box down with a small sniffle before stepping into his arms. He wrapped you up in another warm embrace, his lips pressing gently to the crown of your head.

“Sorry,” you giggled, your voice wobbling slightly as you wiped at your eyes.

“Nah, don’t be, sweet girl.” His voice was low, comforting. “It’s gonna be good, yeah?” You nodded against him, feeling the truth in his words. Your past had been rocky, filled with losses and wounds that could take years to heal or maybe never could truly balm. But every moment with Trent was a promise—not just of love, but of permanence. He wasn’t fleeting. He wasn’t ephemeral. He was your forever. And there wasn’t even the slightest flutter of doubt. He exhaled against your hair, holding you just a little tighter before he spoke again.

“Okay, so I already emailed about getting some cupboards installed in the ensuite for your beauty stuff, and then new bedding—you can pick, but I’ll show you what I was thinking.” He began to rant in a way only Trent could. At a speed meant only for his lips.

“T…” You pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes shining with something beyond appreciation. 

“I got the candles you like, erm… what else?” He glanced around as if trying to recall every little thing he had done to make this feel like yours, not just his.

“T…” You cut him off, your voice softer this time. “Everything is perfect. You are perfect. If I’m with you, I’m home.” He exhaled, his forehead briefly pressing against yours. Then he squeezed you tighter, his arms wrapped around you as if he never wanted to let go. And maybe he never would. Because this was it. This was you and him, at last. And for the first time in forever, he wasn’t just chasing the light. He had found it.

You took a slow breath, steadying yourself as you lowered onto the ottoman in the wardrobe, your fingers skimming along the soft fabric beneath you. The weight of the moment settled around you like the scent of his cologne in the air—woody, warm, and entirely him. The butterfly heels sat in your lap now, delicate and ethereal, but all you could focus on was Trent as he knelt before you. His broad shoulders framed between your parted thighs, his hands already ghosting up the bare expanse of your calves. Trent had always thought in the dimmest lights were when he studied you the most, but this—this was cinematography at its finest. The golden glow of the wardrobe lights tracing the curves of your body, the way your breath hitched as he pressed a reverent kiss to the inside of your knee. You were the main character, the love interest, the only scene worth watching. He could memorize the flicker of every emotion that passed over your face better than any frame of film. Slowly, he took the heels from your lap and unwrapped the delicate metallic leather ties with precision, as if unveiling something sacred. He kissed up your shin, slow, lingering, trailing fire along your skin as his fingers laced the first strap around your ankle. His touch was gentle, but his intent was scorching. Every soft graze of his knuckles against you made your stomach tighten, made heat coil low in your belly. His lips followed the path of his fingers, moving higher, brushing just above your knee, then further still.

“T…” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. His gaze flickered up, dark and knowing, his hands smoothing over your thighs. He hummed as he tied the second shoe in place, but his lips never left your skin. His mouth moved over the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, tasting, teasing, his breath hot and maddening against you. You let your head tip back, fingers instinctively diving into his curls, twisting them as he nipped at your skin. Each brush of his mouth sent a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs. You knew he felt it—knew he was reveling in the way you squirmed beneath his slow, torturous pace. “Please.” The word tumbled from your lips, desperate, needy. Trent exhaled a slow chuckle against your skin, his fingers dragging along the lace of your panties, teasing at the damp fabric. His other hand squeezed at your thigh, steadying you as he pressed a kiss right against your core, separated only by the thin barrier between you.

“What do you need, baby?” His voice was silk, low and rough with control, though his eyes—his eyes told you he was unraveling just as fast. He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles, watching the way your body arched for more.

“You,” you whimpered. “I need you.” Trent groaned, gripping your thighs and spreading them further as he hooked a single finger into your panties and pulled them aside. He cursed under his breath, seeing how soaked you were for him. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, as if savoring the moment before indulging. Then, without hesitation, he leaned in and tasted you, his mouth covering you completely. Your body jolted, a gasp falling from your lips as he licked up your slick folds, humming at the way you coated his tongue. He ate you like he had all the time in the world, like he wanted to unravel you thread by thread. His tongue worked you over with precision, slow flicks over your clit before dragging lower, teasing, tormenting, two fingers sliding into you with ease. The stretch, the rhythm, the heat—it was overwhelming.

“T—fuck—” you choked out, your fingers tightening in his hair, back arching off the ottoman. He groaned into you, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. He curled his fingers inside you, hitting that spot that made your thighs tremble, that made stars burst behind your eyelids. “Baby, please let me cum,” you begged, so close, your body wound tight, teetering on the edge. He lifted his head just enough, his lips glistening, his gaze locked on yours—hungry, adoring. 

“Yeah? Be a good girl. Cum for me,” he murmured, voice drenched in lust, his thumb pressing circles over your clit again. “Cum for me in our house, pretty girl. Let me see you.” The words tipped you over. A strangled moan tore from your lips as pleasure shattered through you, your thighs trembling around his head, your body jerking as you came undone. Trent groaned, licking you through it, drinking in every ounce of your release as if it was his. As you slumped back, breathless, he pressed one last kiss to the inside of your thigh before leaning back on his knees, his expression pure satisfaction, a smugness that fit him perfectly. He grinned, smug and beautiful, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling up your body, capturing your lips in a kiss filled with everything—possession, adoration, a promise of everything still to come. “You taste like fucking heaven,” he murmured against your lips. You exhaled a laugh, still hazy, still floating, but entirely his. 

“And you,” you whispered, running your fingers over his curls before gripping them, pulling him down to you again, “are going to have to carry me to our bed.” He chuckled, nuzzling into your neck, kissing the pulse still racing beneath your skin. 

“Ah, pretty girl,” he mused, voice deep and wicked. “We’re just getting started.” Trent lifted you effortlessly, his strong arms securing you against his chest, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you through to the bedroom. His bedroom. Your bedroom now. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat through you, but you had no time to dwell on it before you were tossed onto the bed. A playful yelp escaped your lips as you landed against the soft comforter, the cool sheets a sharp contrast to the warmth of your flushed skin. He stood at the edge of the bed, gazing down at you with dark, hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling as if he were restraining himself. You laid there, breathless, legs slightly parted, the butterfly heels still wrapped around your ankles, gleaming in the low light. Your body ached for him, every nerve ending on high alert, but more than that, you felt the sheer gravity of the moment.

“Want to fuck you in our bed… in our house.” His voice was thick with desire.  You nodded eagerly, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you pushed yourself up on your elbows, watching the way his gaze dropped to your bare thighs, his jaw clenching. “Off,” he commanded, and your fingers trembled slightly as you reached for the hem of your top, peeling it over your head and tossing it aside. Trent groaned the moment your bare skin was exposed, his head tilting back with a rough exhale. 

“Fuck off….” He ran a hand over his face, shaking his head in disbelief before his hands found your hips. “Honestly, will never get over this." He smirked, this, right now, you in Trent's bed, now your shared bed, this was his wet dream. "You’re so fucking sexy.” He whispered as his thumbs traced over the softness of your skin, his lips parting slightly as if he were about to say more but lost in the sight of you beneath him. Then, you shifted, your fingers moving toward the delicate tie of your new heels. “No,” he murmured, stopping you. His lips curled into a smirk, eyes flashing with something wicked. “ Keep those on f’me.” He told you. A breathless giggle escaped you, and you reached for more of him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him further down into you. Your bodies collided, heat meeting heat as he braced himself on his forearms, hovering over you, your lips crashing together in something messy and desperate. The bed dipped as he settled between your thighs, his hand skimming down your stomach, over the waistband of your panties before teasingly hooking a finger underneath. He drew back just enough to look at you, his nose brushing yours, his breath warm and uneven.

“You look so fuckin’ perfect here,” he murmured, his voice low, reverent. “At home with me, for me.” He whispered and your heart pounded at the sheer possessiveness in his tone, the way his touch both worshiped and claimed you. And as he pressed his hips into yours, your hands clawing at his back, one undeniable truth settled over you. You were home. In his arms. In his bed. Forever.

-

You were sat on the living room floor days later, barefoot in one of Trent’s jumpers, the hem pooling at your thighs as you arranged the frames in front of you. The open box beside you was filled with crisp black-and-white prints of photographs, each one carefully chosen, each one holding a piece of the story that made up your life. A stack of frames to put them in beside you. You had spent hours perfecting the arrangement in your head, trying to balance the memories without letting the weight of them overwhelm you. The house smelled like fresh linen and the faint traces of Trent’s cologne, the warmth of the afternoon sun streaming through the wide windows, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor. You hummed softly to yourself, focused, when the sound of approaching footsteps made you glance up. Trent stood there, hands in the pockets of his joggers, his expression unreadable but tender. Beside him, to your surprise, was Jack, holding another box, but just the same as the ones next to you. He handed it to you and you took it hesitantly as he sat down beside you. The two of them exchanged a look before Jack smirked at you, nudging the box more towards your chest.

“You never hang them straight, so I’m here to help,” he teased explaining his presence. “But also, T told me you were doing this... so I pulled together some photos. So include these, yeah? I wanted you to have them in your house.” His voice softened on the last words, and your chest tightened at the way he said it. Not just Trent’s house. Yours. He knew this was your house now too. Trent leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before rubbing his hands over your shoulders, his touch grounding. You swallowed, already feeling something shift inside you before you even opened the lid. The first photo alone made your breath hitch. It was the three of you—recent, maybe a year or two ago. You remembered this night. Layla must have taken it. You, Trent, and Jack sat at your kitchen table, Chinese takeaway cartons spread haphazardly between you. Trent was mid-laugh, Jack’s mouth was full, and your eyes—your eyes were soft, looking at them both like they were your whole world. Because they were. The simplicity of it, the unguarded joy, made your throat tighten. You swallowed hard and moved to the next one. There, your mum. And Dianne. They were standing together, arm in arm, younger but still so familiar. Their smiles were bright, their laughter almost tangible through the frame. You could picture them now—Dianne’s voice, your mum’s teasing remarks, the way they used to fill a room without even trying. The image blurred as your vision misted, but you forced yourself to hold onto it, to soak it in. You exhaled shakily, fingers trembling slightly as you placed it aside. But then, the next one. This one cracked something open inside of you. It was your mum, again. You and Jack were with her, all sitting on the weathered wooden bench outside the greenhouse in Heaton Park. You knew this picture, you remembered the weather that day. You just didn’t know it existed. Your mum’s arms were draped around you both, her head tilted towards Jack’s as he grinned at the camera. The smiles were so genuine, and yet all the same. You and Jack looked so much like her, it almost hurt to see. But in the photo, you—you were looking at her. Just looking, admiring. Like she was the most important thing in the world. Because she was. Her fingers were laced with yours, and it was like you could feel them again looking at them intertwined. Your throat burned, and before you could stop it, a tear slipped past your lashes, landing on the glossy surface of the photo. Jack exhaled.

“Hey, these are expensive, you know,” Jack whispered, ever the older brother, though his voice was far gentler than usual as he wiped the droplet away. He just didn’t want you to lose the moment of joy in one of sadness. “Don’t cry on them.” He sympathetically smiled at you but his own heart was hurting.  Trent took a seat beside you, and brushed his knuckles under your eye before pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt his breath linger there, as if he was trying to absorb some of the grief, to lessen its weight. You blinked rapidly, grounding yourself before reaching for the last photo underneath such a brutal one. It was lighter in emotional  weight, thankfully. Your two families. Together. The picture wasn’t perfect—not everyone was in it, not in the way you wished they were—but somehow, it still felt whole. Dianne stood beside your dad, both of them mid-laugh at something Jack had said. You were in front, Trent’s arm slung around you, in a way that now screamed just how blatant the feelings between you two were had always been and Jack off to the side, always within reach. You stared at it for a long time. Loss had left holes in your life, cracks you thought would never truly heal. But looking at this, surrounded by the people who had been there—who were still here—you realized something. You weren’t alone. You never had been. You set the last frame down carefully and exhaled. 

“Thank you so much,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion. You didn’t have to say more. They knew. Jack gave you a nudge, a wordless comfort, before shifting to start helping with the arrangement. Trent just pulled you into him, his arms wrapping tight, his lips brushing over your hair. And so the three of you sat there, surrounded by memories of the past but firmly rooted in the present. And for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like grief was swallowing you whole. It just felt like the love that felt lost would always linger.

-

And so summer was over, preseason complete, the season in full swing, and the winter international break had rolled in. England’s fate hung in the balance to advance—a qualifying match that came down to penalties. It made you nauseous. Jack and Noah stood beside you, their arms crossed, their confidence in Trent unwavering. You wished you could be as composed, but you knew yourself too well. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe in him; you did. You believed in him more than anything. But the weight of the moment, the enormity of what this meant, made it impossible to stay calm. Your heart pounded in your ears, drowning out the deafening chants of Wembley. Every possible outcome, every agonizing scenario flashed through your mind in the seconds it took for Trent to step forward. Then, amidst the cacophony of the stadium, you felt a steadying touch. Warm fingers slid into yours, anchoring you back to the present. Dianne.  She squeezed your hand gently, her thumb stroking over the back of it in a soothing rhythm. You glanced at her, her eyes fixed ahead, unwavering. The quiet faith of a mother who had watched her son rise time and time again, who had seen him fight for his moments, who had known him long before the world did. And as she held your hand, you felt it—the silent reassurance that no matter what happened, you weren’t alone and neither was he.

Trent exhaled as he reached the penalty spot, his stance confident, shoulders set. The stadium held its breath, the collective roar turning into something like silence, a charged, suspended moment in time. You forced yourself to look up, and just above, tucked into the metal beams of the stadium, a butterfly clung to the rafters. It shouldn’t have been there. It was winter, the kind that made the air bite at your cheeks and left condensation on every exhale. There was nothing beautiful about this night—it was cold, grey, brutal. And yet, there it was. Not delicate, not fragile, but strong. Camouflaged. Surviving. A lump rose in your throat. You shut your eyes and exhaled. Your mum had always told you she’d be there when you needed her, in the ways you least expected. She was in the details, in the moments that tethered you back to yourself, reminding you to breathe, to trust. And here she was. Hidden in the rafters, watching over you, him, just as she always had. Dianne’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, as if she knew exactly what you were thinking about. And then—

The strike. The net bulging. The sound of the ball hitting its mark before the eruption of Wembley swallowed everything whole. Jack and Noah practically tackled you, their yells lost in the bedlam. You barely had time to process it—just flashes of Trent’s beaming face on the screen and down on the field, that boyish, beautiful, cheeky smile that made your stomach flip with a million unbridled butterflies. This was it. This was life. The wild highs, the all-consuming moments of joy, the way pandemonium could exist alongside something soft, something sacred. Because even in the madness, in the rush of celebration and sound, you had these little treasures. The quiet touches. The hands that held yours through it all. The safeties tucked in the rafters. Trent turned to the stands, searching instinctively, and the second his eyes found you, he pointed. For you. Always for you. And in that moment, you weren’t just surviving. You were living.

-

Movie nights had been a tradition, something stitched into the fabric of Trent’s life for as long as he could remember. It was what he and Jack did, what their friends did. What you did with them. A gathering of bodies sprawled across couches and floors and blankets, debating over film choices and then settling into the glow of the screen. The movies changed, the settings changed—sometimes a proper cinema room, other times under the stars with a projector flickering against a sheet in someone's garden—but the feeling stayed the same. Familiar. Comforting. Home.

Trent knew those nights weren’t about the movies. Not really. Not to him over time. He sat through them all—classics, new releases, thrillers that had the boys cussing at the screen, rom-coms that had Layla swooning into throw pillows. But none of it ever truly captured his attention. Because you were there. Because he was there with his friends sure, but he was there immersed in you.

It started years ago, when you were merely his best mate’s sister, someone he wasn’t supposed to notice the way he did. But he had. He noticed everything, all of it, all of you, forcing him to fall in love. The way your nose scrunched when you concentrated, the way your lips parted just before a jump scare, the way you’d mouth the words to your favorite scenes like they were scripture. He studied you like cinematography, absorbed you like a script written just for him. No blockbuster moment had ever been as captivating as the way your face looked as it flicked, playing across your face. No score as memorable as your laughter. No climactic scene could match the way he felt when you leaned against him, when your fingers brushed under the shared blanket, tentative and warm.

And now, years later, you were no longer the girl tucked into a blanket sheepishly accepting the advance, unaware of his stolen glances. You’d moved to summers hiding in the shadows with him. And now? Now, you were in his arms openly, pressed into his side, wrapped in the life they had unknowingly built between frames of film and years of longing. You were his movie nights. The main character. The love interest. The heroine of every story he wanted to tell. But it was time. Movie Nights weren't meant to go on this way. He needed more. 

Trent took a deep breath as he waited for Jack outside the café they always went to, hands in his pockets, rolling his shoulders as if that could loosen the tightness in his chest. It didn’t. Because movie nights weren’t going to be the same, not after this. Jack showed up a few minutes later, clapping a hand on Trent’s shoulder as he sat across from him. 

“Alright, lad? Thoughts on what film tonight? No's been nagging me non stop.” Jack asked unsuspectingly, looking past Trent for the waitress. Trent exhaled a laugh, nodding. The woman arrived and poured Jack a coffee. He thanked her before his gaze flicked back to Trent curiously. Trent didn't shut up and right now, there was a silence.

“Nah, nah, whatever you lot want...” Then he hesitated again, pulse pounding in his ears. “But, uh… think I need your help planning the next one.” Trent said ambiguously. Jack raised a brow, tipping his coffee to his lips. 

“Erm, Yeah, sure. What’s up?” Jack asked after her swallowed, utterly confused. Trent took a breathe, steadying himself. He reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing velvet before he pulled it out and placed it between them. The small box, with something so massive inside, sat heavy against the table, the weight of everything it carried pressing against his ribs. His heart beat like the drum of an opening score.

“I need to ask you something...”

•

And that is it! The series has officially come to a close. I really can't express how much I loved talking about this with anyone that has messaged or commented. It's really been quiet the ride and I hope you enjoyed.

Please like, comment, or message what you think of the final chapter or the entire series!

🎬🤍🦋⚽️ The End ⚽️ 🦋 🤍 🎬

xx FIE

[itsythebitsyspider]

Jayce X fem reader. Quick enemies to lovers, slight angst (argument) smut

No beta we die like men, enjoy.

“Seriously? This is Hiemerdingers pick?” You groaned and slammed your hands on your desk. “I cannot believe you! This is basic principle. How do you just forget the first thing we’re taught about the Arcane? When you apply force it will adapt to your force and reciprocate with a force of its own.” You picked up his journal and waved it around. “It’s own force!”

Jayce groaned and threw up his hands. “Okay well y’know what? I’m not the one who caused some kind of supersonic boom in the lab!”

“I was following the procedure you gave me!”

“The procedure that requires two people??? Yeah no wonder it blew up. Because you can’t seem to follow basic instructions, or even bother to ask for help.”

“I don’t need your damn help.” You snapped, standing up and shoving the chair behind you a few feet back. You grabbed your notes and shoved them into your satchel. “Screw you.” You jammed your finger into his chest. “ And screw Heimerdinger for putting us on this stupid project. And also, screw your little arcane fantasy okay? Go share that wet dream with someone who cares.” You slung your bag over your shoulder and stormed out.

Your anger was seething. It felt like a vat of hot acid bubbling like mad. Every drop that fell over the edge burned everything around it. The vat trembled with the might of your anger, and you could imagine the little people in your head that ran the system were freaking out with the sheer amount of effort it took just trying to contain the damage to that one area. Every window you passed as you walked to your room in the academy was taunting you.

Every potted plant outside the rooms of the other dorms, every small welcome sign, hell even the damn lights above your head were calling for you to get angry. You had to hold back. You couldn’t get angry. You didn’t work well when you were angry. You couldn’t function. Breaking something would release the anger, but could you afford to break anything?

Your door thanked it’s lucky stars that you didn’t punch a hole in it when you struggled with the keys, but you didn’t bother being gentle as you slammed it shut. The sound echoed in your bare room and the lights flickered on. You grimaced at the bright lighting so late at night before you reached over to the light switch and dimmed it. You dropped your bag on the ground next to your shoes. You slowly discarded your academy uniform until you were left in a basic tank top and a pair of underwear. The room was hot. Much too hot to be wearing any clothes. You let out a sigh and took off all the blankets on your bed until you were left with just the sheets. You turned the fan on as high as it would go and you laid down, hoping that somehow the cool air would be able to calm the fiery storm that burned at your self control.

How could Jayce be so stupid? Yeah you might have caused a mini explosion in the lab. But that was nothing compared to the incident that Jayce had caused when he tried to force two arcane particles together. Was he trying to cause a nuclear explosion? Splitting an atom was the basic principle of making a nuclear bomb.So adding two atoms together would cause what? What was the opposite of nuclear? The opposite of an explosion?

An implosion? Implosion of what? It would have to be something renewable. Something natural. The arcane was a natural sort of energy. Despite its unnatural qualities, it was still an organic type of energy native to the planet. Adding together the two ideas you’d get an implosion of organic energy. Organic energy that loved to heal via adapting.

You sat up in bed. Organic energy that would heal via adapting? Adapting how? Creating something new entirely? The arcane in an explosion would destroy things from the inside out. You’d witnessed it first hand during that explosion at Jayce’s home lab. Everything in the area seemed to have been destroyed internally before even touching the outside. When you heard about the woman from Zaun who had been caught in a similar explosion not even days later, you heard that her hand had been destroyed on a molecular level. It seemed to destroy her bones, her nerves, the muscle and tendons, followed by the skin soon after. It wasn’t a clean cut, the man giving you the information seemed to have a sick glint in his eye when he spoke about how they ended up having to cut off her arm a few inches higher because it had left a mess on her stump.

Working on the theory that rather than subtracting from an Arcane particle, that you would instead add to it, opened up a whole new line of thought. All of this was subjective of course. It was just some fan theory about an entirely new science. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t plausible.

You leaped out of bed and scrambled to find a clean sheet of paper and a pencil. You groaned and grabbed a marker instead and found the nearest wall. You climbed on top of your chair and started writing. If your theory had even some semblance of truth to it, this could be the big breakthrough that would finally allow hextech to be integrated into other fields. Not just the Hex Gates that kept you safe from outside threats, but also inside threats. Diseases, physical conditions, this could be the cure. You stared at your mad scribbling. Could it…? Cure to what? You bit your lip. If you were right about this, it could be the next Shimmer. Unregulated Hex… Hex medicine? HexMed? You’d work on the name later. But this would be the next Vicodin. And these hurting citizens of Piltover, would be the crippled doctor that popped a pill on the hour.

Strict regulations.That would help keep people from developing an addiction or overusing it. But what were regulations for people with money? Nothing. You could imagine the desperate people breaking into pharmacies and taking as much medicine as they could carry. Soon you’d see mutations up and down the streets. A cashier with three eyes where he used to be blind. A doctor with fibromyalgia suddenly having muscles that were far too adapted for the rest of his body to handle. Or someone with a stump, growing an entirely new limb. It was unpredictable. Far too unpredictable to use.

You were on the verge of an episode, you could feel it crawling up the back of your neck.The familiar You needed to talk to someone.

You groaned.You only trusted a handful of people, and one of them infuriated you to no end. You grumbled and glanced at the phone before reluctantly calling the man who you had just argued with and told to go screw himself just a few minutes prior.

“What.”

“Still mad?”

“No. I’m just ecstatic that you yelled at me and proceeded to degrade my entire being.”

“Look I… I need your help.”

“I just got to my dorm. Can it wait?”

“Not if you wantt me to end up with another 5150..”

There was a long silence on the other end as he processed what you said.

“I'll be right over. Don’t blow anything up.”

You had half the mind to at least throw on a pair of shorts but that was it. Your mind was racing a mile a minute and it was all you could do to write down the occasional thought before immediately jumping to another. By the time Jayce got there, you had already filled up one wall of manic scribbles and thrown your hair into what was supposed to be a bun, but ended up looking like a tumbleweed had gotten into a fight with a cactus.

“Heralds above you look like you’ve been up for three nights already.” Jayce set down the bag and snacks on your desk before slowly approaching the wall with your writing. “Should I be grabbing an epipen or something?”

“What? Why would you grab an Epipen?” You whirled around, nearly falling off the chair before catching yourself. Jayce's hands had shot out, reaching to catch you. “Well, you’re acting like you just shot yourself full of Shimmer.” Jayce retorted, reaching out and gently grabbing your hips to help you off the chair before you hurt yourself. He moved you over to the bed to sit down. He sat on your left. “So, want to uh.. Talk about it?”

“”Had an idea. Started thinking. Thought too much.” You gestured at the wall. “Now I have a headache.” You rubbed your temples.

Jayce turned and looked at the wall, darting from random thoughts to ideas and formulas. “Medical use Hextech.” He mumbled aloud to himself. “If we can figure out how to control it–”

“But that’s the issue!” You exclaimed. You waved your hands wildly, gesturing to one of the sections circled off from the others. “You can’t control the Arcane, remember? Not if you’re not a previous Arcane user. It has to be natural. You have to have been born with it, because you know what’s happened when a non-Arcane user tries to tame the Arcane.”

“Explosions, forced mutations, fried pathways.” Jayce shrugged. “Nothing good really”

You started to go off before Jayce quickly stopped you. “Hey, you’re spiraling.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“I- gah! I don’t even know why I called you! You’re such a nuisance.” You threw your hands up in frustration. “All you’ve done all day is criticize me and belittle me. It’s annoying!”

“Me? When I made a mistake you started tearing me a new one like I had just insulted you and your entire bloodline or something!”

“That’s because you continuously make the stupidest mistakes I’ve ever seen!” You defended, crossing your arms stubbornly. “You refuse to ask for help on instructions that explicitly state that they require two people!” Jayce shot back.

“I’m asking for help now aren’t I?”

“Because you don’t want to have to spend seventy-two hours in a room with me. You’d rather gouge out your eyes than be stuck with me.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Is it? We’ve never even had a proper conversation without getting mad at each other. It’s like you insist on arguing with me.”

“I don’t insist on–”

“So why are you always fighting with me? And I want the truth. No skirting around it, okay?” Jayce looked at you, a firm look in his eyes.

You sighed and rubbed your temples.

“Look. You’re a smart guy, okay? You’re not a total idiot, and you’re not the worst partner I’ve ever had. It’s just.. You’re so damn naive and hopeful. You think that hextech will be some tool that’ll save everybody. But you can’t. You can’t cure everyone, you can’t save everyone. But you run yourself ragged trying to. You’re so damn positive all the time and it just gets on my nerves.” You finally admitted, laying your hands on your lap. You looked down and fiddled with your hands. “So, I don’t hate you. I never did. I… I actually look up to you, if you can believe that.”

“I can’t, actually.”

You rolled your eyes and send him a half-hearted glare.

“Okay, okay I’m sorry. Continue.”

“You were the top of our class. And it surprised me because the top of the class was always the people with money. People with power. You came from a lower class, with barely enough money to afford tuition and a dorm, and no say whatsoever in anything politics wise. But you persevered and you made it to the top despite everything. So, yeah I admire you. Because you give me��� hope I guess.”

“Hope? For what?”

“That if you could do it, I could too? I’ve been stuck in the middle of the class. Passing but never excelling. It was hard to do that when it felt like the odds were against me. You showed me that,” You took a deep breath and felt the tension start to leave your body the more you spoke. “That it doesn’t matter where you came from. You can still do great things.”

You finally turned to look at Jayce, expecting him to be looking at you with judgement in his eye. Maybe a disgusted or disappointed look. Anything that would tell you that he didn’t feel the same. But all you were met with was a soft, puppy-like expression.

“Well?” You prompted. “Go on. Make fun of me. Laugh at me. Call me name. Insult me. Just stop being so–”

Jayce leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You froze, surprised by his sudden actions. After a few moments he pulled back and instantly started to apologize.

“Sorry! Sorry- did I misinterpret that? I’m really terrible with these kinds of things, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything! I can just—“

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him back in for another kiss. You felt him tense before slowly relaxing. His hands awkwardly held you by the shoulders and you pulled back to laugh.

“You’ve never done this, have you?”

“I have! Just uhm…”

“You weren’t the one to initiate it?”

“Not really. She kinda just kissed me and then she said my lips were chapped and walked off.”

“Your lips don’t feel chapped.” You traced your finger over his lips.

“Well I started wearing chapstick after that.”

You snorted and leaned in to kiss him again.”Good choice.” You whispered before kissing him again. You grabbed his hands and guided them over to your hips, giving his hands a gentle squeeze to reassure him.Jayce in return squeezed your hips.

Impatient, you bit at his lip. The moment he gasped you snaked your tongue in, immediately asserting yourself as the lead. Jayce could only let out a quiet moan before you were all but devouring him. He gave your hips a squeeze, pulling away and panting.

“Oh wow… you can really hold your breath.” He chuckled, reaching up to touch his lips as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“You better catch yours fast, because I’m not letting up.” You grinned, starting to undo the buttons on his uniform. You had the jacket off in an instant before you paused, seeing the corset underneath. You weren’t surprised by it, no. All uniforms had a corset. The adjustable buttons on the back allowed for the wearer to decide if it was just for show or if they’d actually use it. You unbuttoned it and held it in your hands.

“Something wrong?” Jayce asked.

“No. I’d just like to see you in this without anything on.” You set the corset down on his lap. He grew flustered as you practically ripped off his shirt and trailed your fingers down his toned skin.

“H-hey! You could be a little more gentle!” He exclaimed.

You shushed him. “Easy there milk chocolate, wouldn’t want you to melt.”

You pulled the corset back on him, tightening it. You ran your fingers over the lace, liking how the red looked against his skin. “Now this, is my kind of sight.” You mumbled to yourself. Your eyes caught the muscles on his chest and you reached up ot give them a squeeze.

“Hey! Pervert.” Jayce reached up and grabbed your wrists.

“Oh come on. Everybody has dreamed of squeezing these babes. That tight uniform of yours doesn’t exactly help with the urge.” You snickered, squeezing them again for good measure.

“Okay! Okay- but fondle me later, yeah? I’d like to get back to what we were doing earlier.” Jayce huffed, letting go of your hands.

“Oh? You raised an eyebrow. “And what was it that we were doing earlier? Remind me, man of progress.”

Jayce grumbled. ‘Stupid title.’ You could hear him mutter under his breath. “We were… kissing.”

“Yeah? Seemed like I was the one doing the kissing and you were the one loosing your mind over it.”

He playfully glared at you. “Shut up and kiss me, yeah?”

You leaned in and kissed him, grabbing him by his hips and shoving him down onto the bed. You followed soon after, throwing your tank top onto the floor. Jayce’s eyes widened before you had shut him up with a kiss. He let out a groan.

You felt his warm hands travel up your waist, the large size of them practically swallowing your waist. You felt them trail up your sides until they were on your stomach, then your ribs, then teasing the underwire of your bra. His fingers trailed the wire until he reached the back of the bra, finding the clasps and struggling with them until he finally managed to get them off.

“Damn confusing things.” He muttered, throwing your bra across the room with a little more force than necessary. You giggled and sat up, your giggles growing louder as you saw the gobsmacked look on his face at seeing your bare chest. moving your hands to the fancy buckle on his belt. You pressed down on the button and the clasp came undone. You pulled his belt out before glancing at it and then his hands that had already reached up to start feeling your chest.

“Mmm…”

“Whatcha thinking about?” He looked up from where he had been squeezing your chest.

“When you were first arrested and they had the cuffs on you.”

“Oh? Why were you thinking about that?” He raised an eyebrow at you, confused as to why you’d be thinking of his arrest at a time like this.

“Reenact that for me. How did they have your hands?”

“Uh. Pretty sure they were in front.”

“Show me.”

“What? Why?”

You groaned at just how oblivious he was. You’d seen the pin up girl posters in his room. The magazines he kept in his drawer. He couldn’t possibly not have a clue as to where this was going.. “Oh my herald, Jayce. I’m trying to be kinky and you’re kinda ruining it here.”

“Oh. Oh! Ah- y-yeah. My bad.” The man of progress had the audacity to blush with embarrassment before putting his hands together. Using the belt you carefully formed the two loops before moving it onto his wrist and tightening it.

“It is a wonder how you are such an innovative scientist when you miss the most obvious of clues.” You muttered to yourself. He huffed. “It’s not my fault you’re so confusing sometimes.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh shush before I have to gag you too.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” He whispered.

You raised an eyebrow. “We’ll explore that later. I think I’d like to hear you begging tonight.” You pulled off his pants and kicked off your shorts, leaving you both in just your underwear. You put your hands on his chest to steady yourself as you leaned your weight onto your knees and started to roll your hips against his. He let out a deep moan, letting his head fall down onto the mattress. You were suddenly grateful that you had taken off all the blankets yesterday. The way things were going, you were going to have him a mess on your bed.

You rolled your hips again, starting to set a steady rhythm. You loved hearing the sounds he was making, the expressions he couldn’t hide from you. It was all so beautiful. But your legs were starting to get sore already.. You didn’t exactly plan for this, so there weren’t any extra squats at the gym you were doing or even some stretches beforehand so you wouldn't cramp. Instead you came up with an idea that would still allow you to get what you wanted, which was him being a drooling mess because of you, and also you could give your legs a little recovery time.

You laid down next to him, pulling him by the arms to press up into you.

“W-what’s this?”

Oh he sounded so wrecked already.

You moved your thigh in between his legs and gave him a look. He paused, staring at you for a while before turning bright red. “Y-you can’t be serious.”

“...”

“Oh my– you’re serious??? But- that’s embarrassing!” He whined. Oh he whines too? Gods above please let him whimper as well.

“Well?” You raised an eyebrow. Jayce grumbled and scooted closer, burying his face in your chest before slowly starting to move his hips against you leg. He let out a whine. You could feel him biting down on his lip before he continued to thrust his hips against your thigh. Occasionally he’d whine about how humiliating it was, but not before he started moaning and thrusting a little faster. It didn’t make much for him to start to loose control of his pacing. You could feel his desperate thrusts against your thigh. His hands, still bound, were holding onto whatever part of you that he could grab.

“Please- please I- I’m so close.” He whimpered.

Success!

“What do you want?” You teased him.

“Fuck, don’t make me beg.” He groaned. “Just- I- I need you to touch me. Touch me, talk to me, please I-’I’ll take anything!”

“Anything?”

“Yes! Yes- a-anything.”

“You want me to tell you about how pathetic you look? Humping my leg like you’re in heat.”

Jayce’s face burned. “I- I don’t look-”

“How you’ve been whimpering and moaning at just the feeling of my thigh on you. I bet you wish you could free your hands, hm? Reach out and grab me properly? You wished you were able to pin me down and take control.” You gently toyed with his hair before yanking it back and making him make eye contact with you.

“Well you’re not in control. I am. I have you right where I want you. And that’s under me, begging for me to even touch you so you can cum.”

Jayce whined, “S-so close- so close- k-keep talking.”

“I don’t think you’ll last long enough for me to praise you.” You reached your hand down, slipping your fingers past the waistband of his boxers. You could feel the sticky mess that he’d made in there already. Your fingers found his tip, leaking with precum. You chuckled and teased it, tracing your finger in circles as he moaned and bucked into your hand. You wrapped your hand around the base and immediately it was like he’d lost his mind, the only think he was able to be focused on was just you and the way that your hand felt wrapped around his yearning cock. Jayce let out a moan, spilling his cum all over your hand. You moved your hand up and down a few times before letting him rest. You wiped your hand on his boxers and he managed to give you an annoyed look.

“What? If you think I’m cleaning you up after you made such a big mess you’re surely mistaken.” You scoffed. “If anything, you’ll be the one cleaning up once I’m done with you.”

“Y-you’d really make me–” He let out a loud moan when you suddenly wrapped your hand around his cock again. “W-wait I just-! Fuck!”

You set a quick pace, listening to his raw moan as he struggled to keep it together. Overstimulation just looked so good on him. His hips bucked wildly, as if in between pulling away and thrusting into your hand. His hands were grabbing as tightly as they could onto the sheets. You knew if not for the belt, he would be leaving bruises on your hips. His face was contorted with pleasure. It was a pretty sight, even with the line of drool that had started to escape the side of his mouth.

‘More’ Your mind whispered. You intended on making sure he couldn’t look you in the eyes the next morning without thinking about everything you’d just done.

As soon as you felt Jayce start to squirm, you pulled your hand back.

“N-no no please! Please!” Jayce thrusted his hips into the air, looking for anything that would give him the friction he needed. “Fuck please- please let me- oh- let me-” He panted, starting to come back from the edge of his orgasm.

He glared at you. “Are you seriously playing with me right now?”

“Yeah.”

“What?! That is so-! So mean!” He said lamely. You laughed. “Mean? That’s all you’ve got to say about it?’

“Oh cmonnnn. Just touch me a little more. Please? I’ll be good.”

You grinned. “You’ll be good for me?”

“Yes! Yes I’ll- I’ll be so good! You won’t have to tie me up or- or use a muzzle or- or anything! I’ll listen. I’ll be good.” He promised, desperate for you to touch him again.

“You better make good on that promise, Talis.” You said before reaching down and wrapping your hand around him once more. Instantly he was bucking into your hand, not wanting to give you the chance to pull away from him again. Before you knew it, he was cumming into your hand for the second time. He tensed, spasming next to you as he finally got to enjoy his sweet release.

“Wow you–” You started before Jayce interrupted you.

“Shush.”

“I was just gonna-”

“Shush!”

You grumbled to yourself, giving his rear a harsh slap before settling in next to you. He gave you a glare and lifted his hands. “Oh you want me to…?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the magi–”

“Take the fucking belts off.”

“Okay okay! Jesus. Someone is feeling bratty.” You grumbled and removed the belt from his wrists. In an instant you were wrapped up in an infamous Jayce Talis bear hug. You sighed and wrapped your arms back around him.

“I–”

“Shush.”

“Seriously?! I just wanted to–”

“No. Shush, we're going to cuddle.”

“You–”

“Shut up and cuddle.”

“...fine.”

“I was just gonna say that you moan like a-”

“Cuddle in silence!”

Authors note:

Hope you like. I capped this at 4,352 words but I am so amped that I am down to do a part two. It’ll probably take a while as I have a few other requests currently in the works, but it was a lot of fun to write. As always here my attempt at tagging, add any tags you think should be added, and feel free to request anything else you’d like to see later on. Peace out

[leithillustration]

Once again I'm back from the dead after two weeks of forgetting to post anything. I swear the ADHD will not allow me to do anything on a weekly schedule!

Current WIPs

Illustration Portfolio

I've been building a PDF to help showcase my work. I'm forever intimidated by my website- I'll happily design someone else's but doing my own is always excruciating. I also get frustrated that every application for freelance work specifies different criteria/work examples they want to see, meaning I have to edit my site or make a new page every time. I am much more confident designing for print, so making a PDF portfolio is a lot more satisfying and I like the control I have over it. The plan is to make a master file for every aspect of my work, then I can duplicate it to delete or edit pages to suit different criteria before sending to potential clients.

It's almost complete, so now I'm glazing each page (all 31 of them because fuck ai scraping my work) and then I'll be uploading bits of it to my social media and website.

One more WIP and tags under the cut

Fitz and Fool doodles

Not exactly a specific work in progress, but I am in the midst of reading Fool's Fate and the only way I can cope with the anguish is by doodling cosy pics of my favourite boys (particularly when they are not quarrelling or in mortal peril). Eventually, I hope to work up one of my doodles into a bigger piece on Procreate, but currently I have so many ideas I just need to get them all down in my sketchbook first.

Thanks and love to everyone who has tagged me in their WIPs and SSSs recently, including @youarenevertooold @monbons @fiend-for-culture @theimpossibledemon @thewholelemon @nausikaaa @the-beard-of-edward-teach @aristocratic-otter @artsyunderstudy and @orange-peony. Sorry I'm so terrible at responding, I promise I really love reading about your work and getting to share in what brings you joy🩷 Big love to you all!!

Tags, as always, are pressure free and sent with love. You're all wonderful.

@iamamythologicalcreature @alexalexinii @cattocavo @that-disabled-princess @katatsumuli

@cutestkilla @rimeswithpurple @larkral @best--dress @scribble-tier @raenestee

@nightimedreamersworld @itriednottothinkaboutit @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @angelsfalling16

@argumentativeantitheticalg @lovelyladzzzz

[winwintea]

HOLY FUCK.

i don’t even know where to begin. 1,000 notes. 1,000 notes???? i’m sitting here staring at that number on my laptop, jaw wide open, and it still doesn’t feel real. but it’s real. you all did this for me. and i am so, so overwhelmed with gratitude. it may not be a huge number for some, but for me this is such a big deal.

when i first started writing this fanfic, it was just a little idea that popped into my head. i had rewatched past lives, and my brain was practically begging me to write something. i never, ever imagined it would resonate with so many people. to be honest, i never thought i’d even reach 500 notes, let alone 1,000. this is beyond anything i could have ever dreamed of.

my most popular fic prior to inyun was secure that card. i still look all those notes and smile. although i had to give her up, i was also just happy so many people were interested in reading stc. so here's a special thanks to those who stayed post-stc takedown. i owe all of you so much for helping me stay motivated to write and produce more stories.

i’ve always been a reader first. i’ve spent countless hours immersed in other people’s stories, marveling at their creativity, their ability to make me feel so deeply through their words. honestly i don't even care right now i'm just going to mention them straight out. @lqfiles @hazyhae and @polarisjisung, thank you so so so much for being the inspiration for me in starting this blog. your works touched the hearts of many, including my own.

i never thought i could be someone who could do that for others. writing was always this distant, intimidating thing that “real writers” did. but one day, on a whim, thanks to the encouragement of @aquaphoenixz and @lyvhie, i decided to try. i thought, why not? and now, here we are. it’s surreal.

the fact that so many people have taken the time to read, like, reblog, and comment on my work… it’s humbling. it’s incredible. every notification, every kind word, every little interaction (i do in fact stalk my followers from time to time <33 love u all) it means the world to me. to know that something i created in my spare time, just for the joy of it, has brought even a fraction of happiness or excitement to someone else… that’s the most amazing feeling in the world. writing can be such a solitary thing, but seeing your responses makes me feel like i'm part of a community, like i’m sharing something special with all of you. <33

i want to thank each and every one of you who took the time to engage with my story. whether you left a comment, reblogged with tags that made me laugh, or just silently hit the like button? thank you. thank you for giving my little fic a chance. thank you for making me feel like my words matter. thank you for reminding me why i fell in love with storytelling in the first place.

this milestone isn’t just about the numbers. it’s about the connections (i've met so many wonderful people), the shared love for kpop, and the joy of creating something people enjoy. i’m so grateful to be a part of this fandom, to have found such a supportive and enthusiastic audience. you’ve all made me feel so seen and appreciated, and i can’t thank you enough for that.

i don’t know what the future holds for my writing, but i do know this:

i’ll keep writing because i love it, and because of all of you. thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for making this such an unforgettable experience. here’s to 1,000 notes, and to all the stories yet to come. 💕💕

inyun

PAIRING ↬ next door neighbor!mark lee x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ fluff, romance, slight angst, potential soulmates, past lives au, friends to (?), shared dreams, the idea of inyun/inyeon or “fate”

SUMMARY ↬ when you move into a small apartment complex in seoul, your next-door neighbor, mark lee, seems like nothing more than an ordinary guy. but as the two of you get to know each other more, it suddenly feels like you’ve known him forever. then mark mentions his grandmother's belief in 인연. the idea that every encounter is woven by threads of fate. are these coincidences between you and mark really accidental or is there something deeper going on?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.7k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ somebody (me) decided to rewatch past lives 🙈 this was supposed to be fluff and a gift for @https-lvesick but finals week started sinking in… thank you to my saviors @viasdreams and @polarisjisung for beta reading, love y'all <33

PLAYLIST ↬ jazz bar - dreamcatcher; mago - gfriend; you - nct dream; dejavu - nu’est w; wham bam shang-a-lang - silver

THERE IS A WORD IN KOREAN:

"인연"

it means providence or fate. 

but it's specifically about the relationships between people. 

it's an "인연" if two strangers even walk by each other in the street and their clothes accidentally brush. because it means there must have been something between them in their past lives.

Your apartment door was wide open, boxes half-unpacked and filling the hallway. You’d tried to keep things organized, but between the moving of your furniture and the delivery guy calling for directions, you slowly lost your organization.

You were crouched on the floor, handling a box of kitchenware, when you heard a muffled voice behind you.

“Uh, hi? Excuse me?”

Startled, you turned to see a guy standing at the end of the hallway, a paper bag balanced in one hand and a set of keys dangling from the other. He was dressed in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, glasses fixed upon his face, and his hair slightly tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Are… are you my new neighbor?” he asked in Korean, motioning toward the boxes that completely blocked his door.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” your voice squeaked as you responded in some broken korean, not mentally prepared to face a neighbor on the first day of moving him. You scrambled to move a tower of books out of his way. “I didn’t realize—let me just—”

“It’s fine, really,” he interrupted in English this time with a small laugh. “I’m Mark, by the way. Do you speak English?”

“Oh!” You paused mid-shove, shocked at his perfect accent. “Yes. Yes I do.” You were suddenly aware of how disheveled you looked. “Y/N,” you replied, brushing stray hair from your face. “Nice to meet you, and again, sorry for the mess. Your English is really good.”

“No worries. Happens to the best of us,” Mark said, crouching to help move the heavier boxes. “I’m from Canada, so English is kind of my thing.”

“Aah. I see.” You nodded, still mortified.

“This is your first day here?”

“Yeah. My friends were supposed to help, but they bailed at the last minute. So here I am, single-handedly creating a big explosive mess.”

Mark chuckled, lifting a box with ease. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty solid job for one person. Though... maybe try not to block your neighbors' doors next time.”

“Noted,” you said with an embarrassed laugh, standing to hold the door open as he slid the box inside.

When the hallway was clear, you expected him to leave, but he stayed, looking at the stacks of boxes still waiting to be unpacked. “Need an extra pair of hands?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—”

“I insist,” Mark said with a grin. “I’m a pro at this. Moved like five times in the last three years.”

Before you could protest further, Mark rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He moved like he really had done this a hundred times, lifting heavy items with ease and made the process less awkward with his small jokes.

“This box says ‘Bathroom,’ but it’s definitely full of shoes,” he teased, pulling out a pair of sneakers.

“Okay, maybe I got a little lazy with the labels,” you admitted.

“Lazy? Nah, this is strategic. Keeps life exciting,” he quipped, tossing the sneakers back in.

You laughed, the tension from earlier fading away. Somehow, he’d turned what felt like a stressful task into something almost fun.

Once the last box was inside, Mark clapped his hands together. “Mission accomplished. And since I’m basically your hero now, I think I’ve earned a reward. Got any snacks?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, I have… instant ramen?”

Mark grinned. “Perfect. My favorite.”

After settling in for a few days, you don’t encounter Mark again. That is, until a series of random moments start pulling you back into his orbit.  

On one of those nights, just past 9 p.m., the apartment complex suddenly plunges into darkness. The familiar buzz of your refrigerator stops, and the streetlights outside shut off, leaving your apartment only dimly lit from the moon. 

Groaning, you fumble around for your phone, only to realize the battery is at 4%. Great. You grab a flashlight, slowly open your door, and step out into the hallway, hoping to find someone who knows what is going on. 

That’s when you spot him.

Mark is sitting on the floor just outside his door, a small stack of candles beside him.

“Hey,” he greets, a faint smile on his face as he waves a lighter. “Power’s out in the whole block, apparently. Wanna borrow a candle?”

You take in his setup and smirk. He’s surrounded by neatly arranged tea lights and thick pillar candles.“Uh, are you in a cult or something?”

“Eh, my grandma’s kinda superstitious. Always told me to keep candles around the house just in case,” he says, shrugging. “I thought she was overreacting, but turns out she’s kind of a genius.”

You sit down a few feet away, gratefully accepting a candle he lights for you. The flame brightens up the dark hallway, leaving warm shadows on Mark’s face.

“So,” you start, leaning against the wall, “What do you normally do during blackouts? Just... sit around and wait?”

“Basically. Or… get this,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “People actually talk to each other. Crazy, right? You could, I don’t know, tell me something about yourself. Like… how many candles do you keep at home?”

“None,” you admit holding up your flashlight. “This is all I’ve got. I guess I’m doomed in a blackout. Your grandma would be so disappointed in me.”

“She would,” he agrees with a laugh. “But I’ll let it slide. Only because you’re new here.”

The conversation flows easily after that. You both begin trading random facts: Your favorite childhood snacks, his love for playing guitar, the time you accidentally dyed your hair orange trying to bleach it yourself. He counters with a tale of a botched bleach job that left him looking like a walking science experiment for months. 

Minutes turn into an hour, the candles continuing to burn as the two of you share quiet laughter and stories. And for the first time that night, the darkness doesn’t feel so bad.

—

A few days later, you’re hauling overstuffed grocery bags up the stairs when Mark pokes his head out of his apartment. His hair is tousled, and he’s wearing an oversized hoodie that practically swallows him whole.

“Oh, hey!” he calls, his face lighting up when he spots you. “Need help?”

“I got it, thanks!” you manage to say, despite your arms straining and the bag handles digging into your fingers.  

Before you can argue, Mark is already down the hall, grabbing it from you, and effortlessly carrying it to your door. “Looks like this thing was holding on for dear life,” he teases, hoisting it easily as he follows you to your door.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I was gonna knock on your door anyway,” he interrupts with a grin. “I baked something earlier and thought you might want to try it.”

That makes you pause mid-door unlock. “You bake?”

“Why does everyone react like that?” he says with mock offense. “Yes, I bake. Don’t look so shocked.”

“You don’t look like the baking type. Or cooking.”

“Oh, I can’t cook.” He scowls as if thinking about a bad memory, “But baking is pretty easy. It’s just throwing everything into one bowl, mixing it up, and waiting. Piece of cake. Or, in this case, cookies.”

A few minutes later, you’re both sitting on your tiny kitchen floor, a plate of freshly baked cookies between you. The smell of warm chocolate and butter fills the air.

“These are amazing,” you say after taking a bite, your voice muffled by the cookie in your mouth.

Mark beams, leaning back against the counter. “Not bad, right? I got the recipe off some YouTube channel. Figured I’d test it out before offering it to my friends.”

You squint your eyes, pretending to look offended. “Wait, so I’m just the guinea pig?”

He admits, laughing. “Pretty much. But hey, honest opinion: too sweet? Not sweet enough?”

“Perfect,” you reply, reaching out for another. “But you should’ve added nuts. Makes it more sophisticated. Just make sure you aren’t allergic.”

He gasps, clutching his chest. “Sophisticated? Wow. Didn’t know I was baking for royalty.”

You chuckle, playfully tossing a crumpled napkin at him, and the conversation once again flows effortlessly from there. You laugh over Mark’s failed attempts at “fancy” macarons, and somehow turn into stories about childhood food disasters.

By the time the plate is empty and an hour has vanished. With Mark, even the simplest moments feel like they belong in a movie.

—

Then it’s yet another lazy Sunday when the doorbell rings. You open the door to find Mark holding a massive box labeled 50-pack instant ramen.

“I think this is yours,” he says, biting back a laugh.

You glance at the label and groan. “Oh my God. I ordered five. Five!”

“Well, congrats,” he says, handing you the box. “Looks like you’re set for the next year.”

You sigh, dragging the box inside. A few minutes later, there’s another knock. Mark’s returned to your door, grinning this time.

“You know,” he starts, leaning against the doorframe, “if you need help finishing all that ramen, I’m just next door. We could, like, host a ‘ramen buffet.’ Charge admission or something.”

You snort. “Sure. I’ll make you the first VIP guest. Free ramen for life.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve ever gotten,” he says, eyes sparkling. “But seriously, I’ll take a few packs off your hands if it’s too much. My midnight snack stash could use a refill.”

Later, you text him a picture of your pantry. 

YOU: Your VIP pass is ready 

MARK: I’ll bring the chopsticks! 😂

The first time the dream comes, it’s vivid enough to remember even after you wake up. In the dream you’re walking through a bustling marketplace, the air thick with the scents and noise of those around you. People push past you, but you don’t feel overwhelmed by them. Instead, there’s a strange pull, like a thread tugging at your body. You turn your head and catch a glimpse of someone—a young man with a warm smile, eyes glinting in the sunlight, and a soft laugh that echoes through the din. 

You can’t see his face clearly, but his hand brushes yours as he passes. And in that moment, it leaves a spark. A warmth that feels almost familiar.

When you wake up, the details are already fading, but the feeling of that touch, that spark, seems to linger, and you can’t seem to get it out of your head.

A few days later, you're sitting with Mark in the hallway outside your apartments, the floor scattered with takeout boxes and empty soda cans. The two of you have somehow fallen into the habit of these late-night talks, sharing parts of your day and random thoughts that cross your mind in the moment.

“Have you ever had weird dreams?” you ask, swirling the straw in your drink.

Mark leans back against the wall, his hair slightly messy from running his hand through it too many times. “Weird how?”

“Like…” You pause, trying to find the right words. “Like they’re not just dreams. More like memories. But not yours.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Okay, now you’ve got me curious. Spill.”

You chuckle, feeling a little silly but continuing anyway. “I’ve been dreaming about this place—a market or something. It’s super crowded, and I’m just walking around. But then…” Your voice trails off as the memory becomes clearer in your mind. “There’s this guy. I don’t know him, but when I see him, it’s like I do. And when our hands brush…”

Mark’s expression shifts, his playful smile fading into something more serious. He sits up straighter. “Wait. You said a market?”

“Yeah.”

“And… hands brushing?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

Your stomach flips. “Yeah. Why?”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair again. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but… I’ve had the exact same dream.”

For a moment, the world feels like it’s spinning. You blink at him, looking for any hint that he’s maybe joking, but his face is earnest, his brows furrowed like he’s trying to solve a mystery.

“No way,” you say, laughing nervously. “You’re messing with me.”

“I’m not!” Mark protests, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I swear. There’s a market, right? And I’m just walking, but then I see someone—you, I guess? And when our hands touch, it’s like—”

“—like a spark,” you finish for him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mark stares at you, his eyes wide. “Exactly.”

The air between you grows silent, the laughter and casual banter from earlier replaced by something more ominous.

“Do you think it means something?” you ask after a long pause, your voice trying to stabilize itself.

Mark lets out a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “My grandma used to say that some people are connected through 인연—fate, you know? Like… maybe we knew each other before. In another life.”

You study his face, the soft curve of his jaw and the way his lips press together like he’s holding back more than he’s saying out loud. “Do you believe that?”

He turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. But if it’s true…” He pauses, his gaze dropping to his hands, which rest in his lap. “Maybe it’s why I feel like I’ve known you forever, even though we just met.”

Your breath catches, his words affecting something deep inside you. The dreams, the strange familiarity, the unexplainable pull towards him, the way you could spend hours with each other, you’ve felt since the day you moved in. It’s all beginning to make a strange kind of sense. 

You don’t say anything, but your hand brushes his as you reach for your drink, and in that moment, the spark from your dream seems to jolt back to life.

Mark glances down, his fingers twitching as if he’s tempted to close the gap. Instead, he looks at you.“Maybe we’re just imagining things,” he says softly, but the hope in his voice betrays his words.

“Maybe,” you reply, though you’re not sure you believe it either.

For the rest of the night, neither of you mention the dreams again. But when you go to bed, the image of two hands brushing in a crowded marketplace still lingers in your mind, clearer than ever.

It’s a Friday evening, and you’re sitting on Mark’s couch, a blanket thrown over both of your laps. The faint smell of popcorn fills the air as a half-watched movie plays on the screen. Mark’s head is tilted back, his eyes weary from the long day, his fingers idly drumming to a beat on the couch cushion between you.

You glance at him, noting how cozy it seems here. It’s moments like these that feel strange… and effortless. Like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

“Hey,” you say, nudging his arm lightly. “You’re zoning out. The movie isn't that bad.”

Mark snorts, turning his head toward you. “Oh, yeah? Name one character besides the main guy.”

“Uh... The dog?”

“Exactly.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes your stomach flip.

But before you can laugh along, his phone buzzes on the coffee table, breaking the moment. Mark’s smile fades as he leans forward to grab it. You watch his face shift—something serious.

“Who is it?” you ask, your voice careful.

“It’s... uh, an email. From SM,” he says, mentioning the entertainment company where he’s been interning. He hesitates, scrolling through the message. “They want me to come in for a meeting. Apparently, there’s a potential opening on one of their teams in Vancouver.”

You sit up straighter. “Vancouver? Like... Canada?”

He nods, his thumb still hovering over his phone screen. “Yeah. They’ve got this big international project coming up, and I guess they think I’d be a good fit.”

You’re silent for a moment, the weight of his words setting in. “That’s... amazing, Mark. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” His tone is quiet, almost hesitant, and it doesn’t match the words. He sets his phone back down and leans back again, trying to avoid your gaze.

“So,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant even as your chest tightens, “you’re thinking of going?”

Mark runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve noticed over the months. “I don’t know yet. It’s a huge opportunity, but... I’d have to leave. Like, soon.”

“Right,” you say, your voice a little too steady. “It makes sense. You’ve been working toward something like this for a long time.”

He finally looks at you, his dark eyes searching. “Yeah, but... leaving means leaving everything. Everyone.”

You know what he’s implying, but neither of you says it out loud.

—

It’s the day of Mark’s big decision. Whether to take the overseas job offer or stay in Seoul. You’ve been avoiding the topic, scared of what it might mean for you. But tonight, the two of you find yourselves on the rooftop of your apartment building. The breeze carries the faint scent of flowers that Mark planted the other day in the community garden.

You sit side by side on the edge, legs dangling over the low wall. Although dangerous, Mark always promised that he’d catch you if you fell. He also wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. He’s always thoughtful like that.

For a while, neither of you says anything, just watching the sun slowly start to descend down the bustling city. 

Finally, Mark breaks the silence. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about 인연.”

You turn to look at him. His face is painted in soft, golden light. “Yeah? What about it?”

He chuckles softly, almost nervously, running a hand through his hair. “At first, I thought it was just a cool idea. Like, ‘Oh, that’s neat. Fate and past lives and stuff.’ But… I don’t know. Every time I’m with you, it feels like there’s something bigger happening. Like I’ve known you forever, and I don’t even know why.”

Your breath catches. Hearing him say it out loud makes it feel so much more real than you imagined in your head. “I feel it too. Like… we’ve been here before. Not just on this rooftop, but in some other life, in some other time.”

Mark finally turns to you, his eyes searching yours. “But what if we’re just making this up? What if we’re using fate as an excuse to… I don’t know, hold onto something that isn’t real?”

The vulnerability in his voice shakes you. He’s scared, just like you are. Scared of the intensity of it all, scared of what it means to let go. Or to keep holding on.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“I don’t know if this is fate, Mark. I don’t know if some invisible thread tied us together, or if we’re just two people who got lucky enough to meet. But maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s not about why we found each other, but what we do with it now.”

Mark looks at you, his lips parting as if to speak, but he hesitates. You can tell he’s turning your words over in his mind, weighing them. “So… what do we do with it? What if I take the job? What if I leave? Does that mean we weren’t meant to be?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” You reach for his hand, your fingers brushing before he laces them with yours. “You taking the job or staying doesn’t erase what we’ve shared. If this is fate, Mark, it’ll find a way to bring us back together. And if it’s not… then I’ll still be grateful for every moment we’ve had.”

“You make it sound so easy. Like letting go wouldn’t completely wreck me.” His grip tightens, and you see his throat bob as he swallows hard. 

You smile, but there’s a little sadness to your voice. “Who says letting go has to mean goodbye? Maybe it just means letting the story unfold the way it’s meant to.”

The silence that follows feels heavy but not uncomfortable. You can see the wheels turning in Mark’s mind. He’s thinking, unsure of what to say. 

Finally, he exhales a long, shaky breath. “I don’t know if I believe in fate, either. But I believe in you. And I believe in us.”

Your heart skips a beat, but he’s not done yet.

“So… if I stay, it won’t be because I’m afraid of losing whatever this is. It’ll be because I want to keep building it with you. And if I go… it’ll be because I know we’re strong enough to handle the distance.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you laugh softly, shaking your head. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

He grins, that familiar smile that’s become so dear to you.

“Not really. I’m just winging it.”

You both laugh, the warmth from your voices cutting through the bittersweetness of the moment. The future feels uncertain, but for the first time, that uncertainty doesn’t feel so scary.

As the last rays of sunlight fade, you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Whether it’s fate, luck, or sheer coincidence, you’re here now. And for now, that’s enough.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania

[oceanista08]

Hiii just came in to say you're one of my favorite solo leveling x reader writer.extremely happy that you dropped a Suho fic and even kept it gender neutral💜. Am glad Suho is getting more recognition!. If you'd like here's an idea for another Suho fic(I can't get enough of him am sorry lmao). both reader and Suho are childhood friends have been through everything together and Suho along the way fell HARD for them since they always stood by him. But one day when a gate opened in their art university (idk if you read the sl:r manhwa but it's based on a chapter in the beginning) Suho is not only desperate to survive but also in hysteria to find the only person that remained by him since his parents disappearance and the fear that consumed him at the thought of them being harmed.

Lots of brainrot happening with me towards this goobster but I won't yap too much cuz I fear I won't shut up. Again thank you for the time you dedicate to writing. Love how you write fr😈

[7] Important one. ✧. ┊    s.suho x reader

Ever since he was little, you were always by Suho's side. When everyone gradually left him because of his parents' shadow, you were still there—the only friend who didn't care about the fame or pressure Suho had to bear.

You were the only one who saw him not as 'Sung Jinwoo's - The Ghost - son', but simply as Suho.

You are a childhood friend, a close friend, and also a very important person to Suho.

Suho remembered the days when they sat together under the tree, sharing unrealistic dreams about the future.

Whenever you smiled, your eyes sparkled, he felt his heart strangely warm.

You weren't the strongest or the best, but to Suho, your presence was the most precious thing in the world.

As Suho grew older, as he gradually understood his feelings, he realized one thing—you were the only person he never wanted to lose.

Suho loved you the way plants love the sun—a silent but deep feeling, always watching and protecting from afar.

Every morning when they met at school, he would remind himself that as long as you were still here, his world would be fine.

The times when the two of you were painting together, when you were absorbed in your brushstrokes, Suho could only look at you and wonder if he would ever have the courage to say these feelings out loud.

But then he hid it, satisfied that just having you by his side was enough.

Suho never thought about the prospect of losing you—until disaster happened.

________________________

The entire campus of the art university was plunged into chaos.

A gate suddenly appeared in the middle of the schoolyard, swallowing up the peace in the blink of an eye. Students screamed in panic, trampling over each other to escape as monsters poured out from the pitch-black gate.

The sound of broken glass and screams mixed in the air, creating a scene like hell on earth.

Sung Suho stood in the middle of the chaos, breathing heavily. But instead of running away, his eyes frantically searched for one person—the only person who mattered more to him than anyone else.

"[Name]! Where are you?!" Suho shouted, but amidst the screams and roars of the monsters, his voice seemed to be swallowed.

Fear gripped his chest. Suho had never felt this desperate since the day his parents went missing.

The only person who had always been by his side, the one who had grown up with him, laughed with him, and overcome all hardships… might be in danger right now.

He dashed into the crowd, dodging the sharp claws of a monster that had just pounced on him. A swift kick sent it flying, but Suho didn’t care.

His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his flesh, but the pain was nothing compared to the terror that was rising in his heart.

No. You had to be safe. You couldn't…

A familiar scream rang out in the distance.

Suho's heart stopped. Without thinking, he rushed towards it, ignoring the dangers around him. The sight before his eyes made his blood freeze.

You were backed into a corner, your eyes wide with horror as a giant monster raised its claws towards you. Without thinking, Suho rushed forward, his body moving on instinct.

BOOM!

He threw a full-force punch, sending the monster flying. Suho's body trembled with adrenaline, but his eyes remained locked on the person in front of him.

"Are you okay?!" His voice was hoarse with worry, his hand shaking as he grabbed your shoulder.

You nodded frantically, but the fear was still evident on your face.

Suho gritted his teeth, turning his back to you, blocking you from the monsters that were still lurking around.

Another one roared, charging at a terrifying speed. Suho leaned to the side, narrowly avoiding it, and at the same time threw a punch so powerful that it caused the ground beneath his feet to crack. The monster flew away, screaming in anger.

"Damn it…" Suho gritted his teeth, feeling the mana in his body gradually rising. This couldn’t continue.

Another group of monsters had begun to surround the two. Suho’s eyes darkened, his eyes as sharp as blades. There was no way back.

"I will get you out of here." He declared, his voice low and determined. "No matter what."

Then he charged into battle.

Suho’s figure became a blur as he moved at a terrifying speed, each punch, each kick so powerful that it created small explosions in the air. The monsters were knocked back, their blood staining the ground. But there were still too many.

One suddenly charged from behind you, its sharp claws tearing through the air. In that moment, Suho didn’t have time to think—he only knew that he couldn’t let you get hurt.

He rushed forward, pulling you into his embrace.

Whoosh!

A long wound slashed across his back, blood gushing out. But Suho didn't make a sound, only holding him tighter.

"Suho!" You screamed in panic, eyes wide with fear.

Suho chuckled lightly, breathing heavily. "I told you, right? I won't lose you."

Suho felt his eyes getting blurry, his consciousness slowly fading. You panicked and shook him.

And that was when—a powerful light burst from his body.

Mana surged out violently, swirling like a storm. The earth and sky shook. The monsters roared, retreating in fear before the terrifying power that had just awakened.

In front of your terrified eyes, a big ant appeared, he shouted angrily.

"KRRRRRK, HOW DARE YOU TO HURT THE YOUNG MONARCH!"

And just like that, a knight with shining ant armor - Beru- appeared 📢📢📢

THANK YOU SO MUCH 🥺💗💗💗💗I'M TOUCH ❣💕💞💓💗💖💝💟 Your word make my day happier

of course Suho needs more attention, he's a little cute adorable handsome precious babi 🥺

Hope you like it, I probably will make more Suho x reader in the future

and the beautiful divider is made by @strangergraphics

[oneluckydragon]

Thinking about how these two met. Get adopted, idiot.

More human!Echo.

[passerinesoncaffeine]

Me seeing your notes on your Fan Joy July reblog:👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

*whispers*you should do it hehehe

Tho obviously no pressure haha. The fact that you liked the idea makes me happy hehe

I'm already preparing my list of scenes I want to draw <3

[stellorc]

hello there c:

yes i'm in fact alive, and actually painting a lot (shocking i know!) but nothing is finished yet so please have these sketches. Look at this wonky little guys. I feel weird posting wips bc I never know if people actually like them. Too late now, I'll subject you all to my unborn creations.

Also, ty all for the support folks. I'm terrible at keeping a blog but know that every interaction is cherished <3

[alexcutecolly]

i started feeling better but now i have a cold n it sucks!! but happy to hear you’re doing better n not so stressed!! uuu I would love some healing time napping in there while he goes about his day or sleeping while laying on his belly with no one else knowing! were small enough that no one would probably see us in him anyway but his uniform is also rly big so there’s no worries and we’re all his ❤️

intestines in safe stuff are super underrated to me cuz its like the same nice pressure of being swallowed but way way longer and v.olo can talk during this one! n he could say how much he trusts us to go into a sensitive spot like that and how he loves the feeling and rubs where we are sometimes tracing our path into his lower belly uuuuu I want him to rly enjoy us in there!!

I wanna be teleported out before it gets to the weird point but theres hours of time before that happrns cuz its slow and long and its so relaxing being gently squeezed around deep in him and knowing its totally safe for us and rly enjoyable for him >w<

uuu hed be surprised how much he likes us in there when we get swallowed the first time! and when we calm down a little bit and get used to where we are n what happened we see its kinda nice in here and V.olo gently presses on his stomach to see if were ok and uuuuu he’s so kind with us!! ❤️

omg yes we spend so much free time just talking and relaxing with him and his team and our mons can play together!! n maybe V.olo holds on to our po.keba.lls and takes care of our team while were in his belly so they get to know him and its like one big happy group!! a pile of us and him and both our mons while we relax and chat abiut ruins after we’re let out and unshrunk sounds like alot of fun too!

if thats what happens then m.erman v.olo would be super fun to journey with! its like we have a warm personal pool in there safe from cold water and deep ocean pressure and we get to look at what he found later and he gets a partner to talk to and not be alone!! hed ask if we wanna join him to look for artefacts and when we say yes hed get us in his mouth with a quick HOMF and swallow us right down so excitedly cuz he loves spending time with us! omg youre right he’d be so pretty with golden scales!! theyd be rly pretty with his grey eyes

Halfsize is so special to me omg!! It’s a lot more effort for him but that means finally getting us down is way more satisfying for him too!! uuuu licking his lips and telling us how pleasantly full he is now and massaging our spot a little as soon as were all the way inside his first stomach just so it’s a little extra comfy for both us and him while he waits uuuuu >w< that sounds rly cute btw id love to hear him humming happily from our new spot in him! We could probably feel him humming and sighing all pleased with this too! uuu him snoozing with a hand over his belly or reading a book until we finally get squished into his tail stomach with a sigh of happiness from him is good too cause he had to work alot to get us down and that has to make him sleepy. and it’s a good thing he’d be solitary cuz then he doesn’t have to get interrupted while he’s enjoying his full belly of his favorite human ❤️ and we get to be in there a long while too getting rested on and rubbed at and a little kiss!!!! >w<

omg omg I’m super duper excited for the new game!! X./Y left a lot of things open and not quite done n the sta.rters didnt get m.egas but this feels like its gonna give it the fixes it needs!! and its a l.egends game and theyre taking their time for it so I’m already rly excited!

- v.olo uwu

I'm alive! Sorry this is a bit late but my mood dropped like crazy this past week 😞 I'm glad to hear you've been doing better! Cold sucks so bad though, hopefully it went away in the meantime! 🥺

Mmmmm I agree! We could totally stay in his belly to heal as he does his errands or takes a nap, it'd be very relaxing and we'd all benefit from it! And it's true, his G.inkgo G.uild uniform can definitely hide us away since it's so cozy and large x3 we're absolutely pretty tiny too, we'd be undetectable basically all the time xD

Ngl, intestines stuff are definitely underrated in vore. Personally I love the thought of travelling through the long tunnel of the small intestine, surrounded by all the villi 🥺👉👈 I'm a big endosoma fan, and simply the idea of exploring someone else's digestive track even on deeper levels makes me very happy xD

So I wouldn't mind if we did this with V.olo's permission lol, he'd probably find it soothing and rub our spot a lot along our way x3 also yeah we'd teleport out before the weird point, but I think being in his intestine would be something very cute, and the squeezing would feel like a hug from him! ❤️

Yeah, his first time eating us would be a bit confusing at the start but then we'd all find ourselves kinda comfortable in the situation 🥺💕 he'd stroke his stomach to reassure us that everything is fine, and that we're perfectly safe inside of him! He's really a kind soul 🥺❤️

Oh I like the idea! We could chill in his belly, maybe to rest after a long day, while he takes care of our p.okemon team as well! They could all play together, he'd give them treats and pets and then the cuddle pile begins xD We'd definitely introduce him to our mons before he eats though, I imagine them going full protective mode if they saw him swallow us down with no context at all xDD and it'd be always lovely to hear him discuss ruins and ancient myths, especially when our beloved p.okemon are there with us!

Omg, now that I think about it, both m.erman!V.olo and n.aga!V.olo sound a bit lonely ;-; the former would be more curious and eager to show us the ancient artefacts he gathered from the bottom of the sea, and take us with him as he talks about them and looks for more 🥺 he knows a good way to keep up safe as he swims underwater, and omgggg, the NOMF as he sends us down would be so adorable!!!

While n.aga!V.olo would relish in spending most of his days on his own, maybe in his cave, if he shared his time and space with us it'd mean we're very special to him! ❤️ Half-sized vore works wonders here, I appreciate when a pred takes longer than usual to gulp down their prey x3 and I bet he'd be so satisfied after we fill his belly! ❤️ He'd definitely lick his lips and he curls up in his coils xD

I imagine he'd be able to send us in his second stomach immediately, but he takes his time to enjoy us in first belly too xD so he doubles the time we get to spend inside of him, hehehe x3 and I bet we'd have even more of his attention, once we've settled in his tail, with all the rubs, the hums and the kisses! x3 that's most likely his favorite spot for us to be, since we're his favorite human 🥺❤️ and we're 100% not coming out for a while xD ❤️ (Mmmmm, I'm definitely not thinking of writing some n.aga!V.olo vore AU rn now, lmao xD)

Oh I had no idea! :O I've only heard people say X./Y are among the worst p.kmn games, I'd love to see what they're gonna include in this new L.egends game! I'm actually intrigued! Plus I liked the combat style and the different gameplay from L.egends: A.rceus, so I can't wait!

[yesplsnothankyou]

I only come on tumblr when I'm at the very end of my rope and barely hanging on by a quickly disintegrating thread and I don't know what that tells you about me

[waffultaim]

Ksksksnwls it's really crazy to crack an idea for a cool au concept (or original concept story idk) in the fcking shower and like you can't really make it public to see if anyone would be interested because one, your English grammar scks for the record and your natal language won't reach any public, two, your art is in progress to make any cool content and you barely write consistently(only loosed ideas, shame), Ahhh agonyy but hey at least I can drop my cries here 😿.

[llondonfog]

Hi!! I was an anon from quite some time ago, saying that Mr. Plover would be a cute name for Sebek's dad :) Your response definitely raised some really fun questions, and I had some thoughts to share if you'd like to entertain them :) but also, feel free to ignore! I dont wanna bombard you lol. Your posts are so fun to see, and are awesome for world building. Thank you for your little corner of the internet <3 Anywho, I wrote a little thingy...

To be a Zigvolt is to love bravely.

Truly.

Unafraid, and without condition.

Who is Sebek to contest his exalted family legacy?

And the Zigvolts, mother and father, hold tight with conviction. Not the conviction of heavy-fisted mandates, nor the snarl of battle-torn declarations. Not the conviction of a judge, or a king, or a soldier. Their conviction is of tea-time weather observations, of the kiss of tide at sea, the fact that is sunrise, and the moon that trails after. Something simple, and mundane, and unfailingly honest. And above all else, above murmured insults, and booming jabs at rounded ears and smaller magics, the Zigvolts believe, know, that their son loves them.

Truly, bravely, and without condition.

It follows in him placing away the mugs after washing, and knocking on the dentistry's door with that huff of his. In the glances behind an unsheathed sword, eyes searching for a familiar truth.

And the Zigvolts smile, for he knows.

And Sebek turns his face, embarrassed.

Emboldened.

Dude. Sebek as a character????? MUWAH. His inner conflict of human vs fae is so complex and compelling. That type of conflict, obviously, doesn't arise just out of nowhere. The Valley of Thorn's general society obviously had a heavy impact, and I believe that Sebek's grandfather was a primary influence as well. So Sebek's parents, OOUGH. It really gets you wondering about how they feel, especially his human father. But? His parents? Are just so? Loving? They truly, and deeply love their son, and I think that they know Sebek loves them back, even if he himself doesn't really understand his own feelings. This manifests in a variety of ways, but a definite drawback is that because they know that their son loves them, they don't really adress the antagonism he holds towards human kind? Towards himself. I think that the Zigvolts believe that Sebek will come to understand with time, and that their love for each other is enough. Especially with fae culture, their lives long and full, learning and growth seems to be something that also develops over time. (Mr. Plover is someone who seems to adopt fae culture, and wonderfully open minded, so I think he adopts this kind of attitude towards Sebek as well?) There is no rush to correct Sebek, and maybe with fae culture, a lesson learned by oneself over time is more valuable than a one forced upon them. If that makes any sense. So his parents belief in his love and intelligence and future, almost feeds into this conflict? But it's... fine bc he's half fae? Obviously not fine, but, ya know? Anyways😂😂😂 I love their family so much😭😭😭 if you made it here, thanks for listening to my ramble! :) Especially with the Silver stuff coming up WHICH I AM STOKED FOR I AM EATING YOUR WRITING I AM CRYING😭😭😭

I hope you have a wonderful day :)) <3

@estcaligo // i felt morally obligated to tag you in the most wholesome sebek ask i've ever received

first things, oh my goodness, hello again!! i'm so glad you enjoyed that response and you're more than welcome here anytime to share your twst thoughts and questions, i really enjoy answering them and interacting with you guys!! it means so much to me that you enjoy my silly content corner!! <3

secondly, YOUR LITTLE PROMPT HAD ME TEARING UP OH M YGOD. i don't know if you guys understand how much i adore the trope of big huffy characters showing their love and affection through small gestures of care and intimacy rather than grand displays and the way you described that!! sebek's little grumpy noises that even if he says he doesn't understand his father, he's still going out of his way to be with him at the office!! the way he goes to put the dishes away (most likely on the tallest shelves!!) for his family aaaaaaa

and just the overwhelming theme that the quality their family prides themselves most on is their conviction WHICH IS SO TRUE OF SEBEK AS A CHARACTER AND WHAT WE KNOW OF HIS MOTHER AND FATHER!!! conviction to their love, conviction in his liege i literally am obsessed with the mundane little observations that when placed in this context ARE SO INSPIRING AND MEANINGFUL!!!

i really hope we get to understand more about sebek's life and past, especially in ch7 if we get the backstory on lilia and baul (sebek's grandfather) and how he views humankind. and if not there, then i really hope we get a briar valley event where we can see the zigvolts in all their glory!! the dentist office, sebek's siblings, the home where he grew up!!! but you raise such a good point about how their belief that he will mature with time could also be a hinderance since they're not stepping in to facilitate his personal growth BUT I HAVE FAITH IN SEBEK!!! from what we've seen so far in ch7, he's had his foundations shaken considerably, and how he comes out of this is going to be a huge testament to his love for diasomnia

[todayisafridaynight]

SORRY FOR HARASSING YOU AS YOU WERE ALREADY REBLOGGING IT GJKHKSFJLS

But yes. Yeah. I cannot believe I'm acting this unhinged over a little ant-sized guy milling about but I am. The ahoge is very much the key, but it also feels like... it disappears depending on the frame? That's why I'm not confident, aside from being unable to make out the nose. IMO he also has very distinctive ears, as do most RGG characters (that's partly how I was able to identify RGGO Joon-gi before he was revealed), so it sucks not being able to line those up.

It is possible I shouldn't have used Hijikata or wasn't able to line everything up perfectly though, because there definitely are differences; I would say Mine's features are a bit more delicate and youthful. So seconding that you're not crazy!

Also you Can and Must say he's dressing like a dweeb, his initial concept art was rejected for being "unbelievably garish" for a reason! This is half the fun and I say it with nothing but affection. (Miura pics for context)

I actually WAS gonna make a comment about the ears but I didn't want to sound too deranged (that's partially where my jaw hypothesizing came from as the length of the jaw could also skew the ears lining up). In any case, whether it is him or not, I'm absolutely super invested to find out who this is when LaD8 comes out (whether it turns out to actually be Mine or if it really is some random guy Kashiwagi decided to hire).

[falesten-iw]

When I first joined Tumblr, I had no idea what I was walking into. There’s no manual for navigating this wild, untamed corner of the internet. My first moment here? I was greeted by an image completely naked, no warning, no explanation. It was just there, bold and unapologetic. That’s when I realized: Tumblr is a place where anything can happen.

But for all its chaos, Tumblr has become something far greater than I ever expected. For us Palestinians, this platform isn’t just a space to scroll through memes or vent about life. It’s a lifeline, a place where we’ve taken the raw, messy energy of this site and turned it into a battleground for survival. Here, we tell our stories, raise funds, and fight for our lives.

I’ve seen campaigns soar past their goals, bringing hope to families barely holding on. But I’ve also seen campaigns like mine, ones that fight tooth and nail for every single dollar, every reblog, every addition, and every ounce of hope. My family’s lives depend on this.

It hasn’t been easy. Zionists flood all Palestinian words with hate, twisting truths and spreading lies. They aim to discredit us, to make people doubt us. It’s exhausting. Some nights, I sit with my phone in my hands, wondering if this fight is too big for me. But then something beautiful happens: a donation comes through, a kind message appears, or someone I’ve never met reblogs my story with words that feel like a warm embrace.

And through it all, people are starting to see the truth. The hate doesn’t drown us; it sharpens our voices. Every day, more people step forward to stand with us, to say, “I see you, I hear you, and I’m with you.” It’s those moments that keep me going.

To everyone who has already helped, whether through verification, donating, wrting post , reblogging, or simply sharing a kind word: thank you. You’ve done more for my family than I could ever put into words. But the reality is, we’re not there yet. My family is still waiting for a chance to breathe, to live without fear, to fill their empty stomachs with warm food, and to wrap themselves in clothes thick enough to keep out the bitter cold. They’re hungry, they’re freezing, and I can’t do this alone.

This fight is hard, but it’s not hopeless. Strangers have become friends, and friends have become family. Some of you have shown up in ways I never imagined, treating my family’s survival as if it were your own. That kind of solidarity? It’s powerful.

Tumblr might be chaotic, unpredictable, and sometimes downright bizarre, but it’s also the place where we’ve built something extraordinary: a community that refuses to look away from injustice. With your help, we can take this fight all the way. My family’s lives are within reach, and together, I know we’ll get there.

This campaign isn’t just about me. It supports 26 people, including two orphaned children and an injured family member suffering from hemiplegia after being hit by shrapnel during a bombing. Surgery is desperately needed to replace the infected and failing plates. The needs are urgent, and the future of 26 lives depends on your support.

The video showing the injured family member is shared before in this post: Link.

Please help us ! Donate and reblog this post to spread our story.

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead. Please keep the conversion rates in mind when donating through GoFundMe. Every 100 SEK is equivalent to 10 dollars, and 200 SEK equals 20 dollars and so on.

Note: There’s even a raffle for a handmade Palestinian thob if you want to participate : Link

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[angelfrombeneth]

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT, RIGHT? - N . CHAVEZ

Mature Content Ahead

Nicholas Chavez x F!Actress Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Summary: You and Nicholas are costars in a new show - Grotesqueire. When it is time to film a sex scene, you aren't ready; awkward tension takes over, but you know what they say; Practice makes perfect.

Note: I just want to say thank you so much for 1k followers and I hope you enjoy this one - and if you are new here, check out my other works. I have new stuff coming, feel free to request in my inbox for a specific character.

If you are looking for a part 2, please read this post as it explains my reasonings behind not making a part 2.

The filming for Grotesqueire has been underway for a few weeks now, this is your first big role in any media which you are extremely excited for. The show has an extremely interesting script, which is one of the reasons you wanted to put your all into your audition - which got you here.

"Y/N, I need you on set B in 5 minutes" Someone shouted from outside the trailer.

You sat up, taking your glasses off as you put them aside as you grabbed your contact case, quickly putting your contacts. You grab your veil, before exiting your trailer and walking towards the set. Crew preparing sets around you as you pass through different hallways, so much going on in one place but somehow you still felt at home.

"I was wondering where you were" You heard Nicholas laugh behind you as you turned to face him.

You laughed, turning to him as you smiled. Nicholas was your co-star playing a weirdly odd but kinky priest - and well, he was definitely lovely to look at.

"Nicholas, what are you doing?" The costume leader came scrambling over. "That isn't your costume for this scene- come!" She grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the set.

You laughed at Nicholas getting dragged away before walking upon the director and listening to your scene directions.

You sat upon your position on the set, the hairstylist coming to fit the veil upon your head properly, fixing your hair under it as you noticed Nicholas enter the set from the side of your view. You turn to look at him, your eye quirking up at his costume- well lack of costume.

"Nicholas why are you wearing just a towel?" You laughed.

"I have no idea- This is what Marissa gave me-" He spoke but was quickly cut off by the director on the megaphone.

"Alright! So can we get Talia on set please!"

You watched a girl walk up to you and Nicholas, smiling as she held a clipboard. "Y/N! Nicholas! I am very grateful to meet you, I am Talia your intimacy coordinator"

You blinked. You read the script you knew it was coming but you didnt realise it would be so early on. Nicholas shared a similar face to you.

"Now, don't worry, we will go over the main aspects and go over any boundaries the pair of you have" She smiled.

The next twenty minutes were spent with you, Nicholas and the intimacy coordinator. You were still shocked. It wasn't that you couldn't do it - Nicholas was attractive, and all, and the attraction for the scene was definitely there; it was just the awkwardness of it.

After talking Talia deemed you guys to be okay to proceed, the horn sounded round the studio as the pair of you prepared for your scene.

The tension loomed in the air as you stared at Nicholas from the doorway, reciting your lines.

"Can you dry my back sister... please" He hummed, passing a folded white towel over to you. You took it, walking behind him as he kneeled infront of the bed. You took the towel, slowly sliding it over his back full of gashes, cleaning the blood from his back as your finger ran over the bumps. You let your hand reset to his shoulder, softly gripping it as he hummed, it was what was scripted but it felt.. awkward.

"CUT!-" Shot through the studio as alarms sounded once more. Talia and the director came over, looking at you and Nicholas.

"Maybe lets take a break, you two talk through the scene and try and coordinate something. It feels.." The direction tapped his chin as he spoke.

"Awkward. It was very tense and not good tense" Talia sighed.

The pair of you nodded, walking out of the studio and towards the trailer as you groaned, flinging open the door as you tore the veil off your head yet again.

Nicholas sat on the couch looking up at you snickering as you groaned, sitting beside him, tossing your legs over his as you leaned back on the couch.

"I had no clue we were filming.. that today. It's just.. awkward" You looked at him, watching his body face yours completely as he held your full attention. The way his eyes stared into yours as you spoke.

"I mean if it makes you feel any better, I was pretty nervous. I didnt really know what to do and its just unfamilar i guess, its not a regular sex scene its gotta be.. kinky" He chuckled.

He made you feel comfortable. No pressure at all, the awkwardness was lifting bit by bit, showing the light under the fog.

"I mean what if we just.. you know" You blurted.

"If we just what?" Nicholas looked at you confused. "Fucked?"

"I mean you said it not me.." You looked around the room, trying to break the obvious tension as he laughed at your reaction. "I mean, for the scene right?" You smirked.

"Yeah for the scene." You sat up and looked at him as he spoke, crawling towards him slightly. You paused just before him. One of your hands gripping his thigh as the other held his shoulder.

The pair of you looked at each other for a brief moment, the balance of friends and coworkers about to be broken. As much as you wanted to chant in your head, 'it's for work, for work,' it wasn't, was it.

Your lips softly connected with his, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you in, sitting upon his lap, your legs wrapping and encasing him between. His lips mimicked your movement, slowly moving against yours, matching your pace and rhythm.

You pulled away briefly for a moment, looking at him. "This is work right..?" You chuckled.

"Definitely work" He smirked, pushing himself up, sending you up as he pulled apart your dress, the top clasps undoing as you kissed him forcefully. Your arms flew around his neck as he tugged the dress down slightly.

Your lips interlocked as you kissed each other hungrily, your hands combing through his locks as he slid all over your torso, pinching and grabbing at the flesh.

You both wouldn't admit it, but this was a long time coming. With the subtle flirting on and off set, you both were excited for the sex scene to finally be able to 'get a taste' as Nicholas said - but you didn't expect this.

You pulled away, gripping the waist of the dress as you dragged it up your body, pulling it up over your head as you dropped it to the floor, allowing yourself to fall back against the couch, your arms around his neck as you guided him ontop of you.

"Fuck-" Nicholas groaned, towering above you as he stared down as you adored in your black lace set as you stared up at him. "Is lingere supposed to be apart of the costume.. I mean stockings? Really? The dress covers it" His hand slid down your thigh to your calf, feeling the silky sheer material covering your bare skin.

"Personal touch" You smirked at him, your hands holding his shoulders as he licked his lips.

Nicholas's head turned to the side, kissing the wrist of your hand as it held his shoulder, taking the hand as he kissed up your arm slowly, gaining closer and closer.

You pulled him down towards you, rubbing his neck softly as you pecked his lips softly. "Nick- This is mad" You laughed out.

A smile covered his lips as he kissed your cheek, to your jaw and slowly down your neck, nipping occasionally. "Its practice... for work of course"

"The for work excuse has been.. overused~" You melted into his touch, your hands resting softly upon his hips above the towel that fixed upon his body. You tugged his hips closer, noticing his lips depart from your collarbone as he peered up at you.

He licked his lips, sitting back upon his knees as he stared down at you, that cheeky grin on his face. "Now, got to act suprised in the scene, I'll give you a little preview" He snickered.

You reached forward for his towel, tugging it as it puddled at his knees. You gawked for a moment, you didnt expect him to actually be pare naked under the towel - acting and all, you'd think he'd have some sort of cover.

"The director thought it would be more authentic to be completely naked under the towel.... For gravity purposes" He winked, his hands sliding down your waist, hooking his fingers through the sides of your underwear, slowly pulling them down your body.

"That's a terrible excuse" You laughed as you lifted your feet out of your underwear as he dropped them on the floor. You sat up, pushing his chest as he sat back on the couch.

"Calm down, cowgirl", He snickered, leaning back as he stared at you; one of his heads reached to rest upon your hip, the other clasped around himself as he gradually began to pump.

You reached back, unclasping your bra and sliding it off slowly as you threw it at him, the pair of you laughing. The sight of him leant back against the couch, hot and bothered as he stared at you while touching himself was all too much, it was making you hot and bothered.

"Fuck me, you are so hot Nicholas" you brought your hands to your face, covering your eyes as you let out a loud drawn out sigh.

"Genes.. what can I tell you" He smiled, as you leaned forward pecking his lips softly a few times. His grin seeping into the kiss as you stared at him, your noses touching eachother slightly.

You leaned in, capturing him in a soft kiss, instantly reciprocated as both his hands gripped your waist. You sat in his lap, softly grinding down against him - humming softly within the kiss at the friction.

You noticed his eagerness as his hips would occasionally buckle up against yours, one of his heads to your neck, gripping it softly as he pulled you closer - the pair of you intensely making out.

Your hands raked through his hair, tugging and stroking it as his hand tested with pressure around your neck as you hummed softly, lightly moaning within the kiss.

You pulled away abruptly, looking down as you took him into your hand as you slowly guided him into you as you let out a light and soft moan, which was sounded out by his own moan.

"Fuckkkk-" His head fell backwards as his hands fell upon your waist, guiding you slowly.

You looked down at him, your hands holding his shoulders as you slowly rutted your hips against his, grinding down against him. Watching his face twitch in pleasure as his breathing stuttered at each movement.

"You are so vocal" You laughed, pecking his lips softly as you rested your forehead against his, continuing to grind down against him, watching his body for every single twitched movement.

"Cant help it- Does it bother y-you.." He stared up at you, slightly breathless as he grinned, his eyes half lidded.

"Absolutely not.. turns me on if anything" You chuckled, kissing his cheek softly as you leaned down to nibble on his ear lobe as you continued to ride him.

Nicholas continued to groan in your ear, making you smirk as you speed up your movements, dropping your body weight down against him harshly as you bucked your hips back and forth. Cusses spewed from his lips as you continued to do so. 'Fuck' 'Shit' 'Holy Fuuuck-', continued to fall from his lips as you hummed softly, soft moans leaving yours.

You watched him intently as his eyes rolled back, his eyes staying hooded as he tried to steady his breathing. Smirking as you noticed the effect you had over him, especially how cocky he is normally.

Your movements slowed down as you panted softly, leaning against him for balance and he noticed. Nicholas picked you up, causing you to yelp momentarily as you pushed you up against a desk.

"Getting tired?" He smirked, pressing his hands against the wall behind you, as he thrusted harshly forward - causing you to gulp back a moan. Your fists clenching as you stared up at him.

"I thought-" You groaned, at each thrust he made, pressing your hands against his chest as you steadied your breathing.

"Mhm.. You thought wrong; I was definitely enjoying before, though.." He pecked your lips softly, leaning to your ear. "My turn now" He whispered.

His hands hooked under your thighs, lifting your lower body up slightly as he continued to thrust into you. You yelped out, shutting your eyes as you tried to control yourself from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure, trying hard to not let go so soon. His lips harshly locked against your neck, as he sucked and bit down against the flesh.

"Nicholas-" You gasped out, moaning softly as your fingernails clawed down his back harshly.

"Shhhh" He cooed, as he licked up your neck, his hips continuing to slam against yours as the desk rocked below the pair of you.

"So fucking good- holy-" You gasped, staring at him as you laughed out slightly, his lips curling up into a smile as he continued to thrust, his hands holding your hips up just above the desk as you locked your legs around his waist tightly.

He dropped you harshly against the wood, placing a hand on your neck, kissing you roughly as you raced to reciprocate. His tongue halfway down your throat as your hands slid down his chest, your fingers feeling between the crevises of his sculpted chest. His free hand, cupping your breast as he squeezed it occasionally.

You hummed needingly into the kiss as his thumb pressed pressure against the front of your throat, causing you to tighten - which he felt. You could feel the smirk on his face as he kissed you, his tongue exploring your mouth as you helplessly allowed it.

You felt his whole hand clamp down on your neck with pressure. Your breath hitched for a moment at the sheer shock as he pulled away, your foreheads resting against one another, beads of sweat falling and mixing within each other as you gasped, staring into his eyes as he thrust deeply, holding himself within you.

"...Nick.." you croaked out as he stared at you, his eyes blown out with lust as he leaned in, biting your lip between his teeth as he held his eye contact with you, his thumb still pressed hard against the front of your throat.

He took his free hand, sliding his middle finger and index finger past your lips and into your mouth as you stared at him. You gave him no indication against it which caused his dick to twitch. He began to thrust against yet this time harder but slower. Your body rebounded each time, pushing yourself into the wall that you could've meshed into it. You sucked on his fingers, tugging his hair as you run your hand down his face, caressing it as you let out a guttural moan as he trusted once more.

"Good girl.. cum for me" He whispered, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth and removing his hand from your neck as his face flew to yours, your lips instantly crashing upon one another as he gripped your hips, pulling you forward and roughly thrusting into you.

You moaned into his mouth, panting heavily as you drew closer and closer to your high. Your leg twitching as you threw your head back as his lips sucked and nipped at your neck as you screamed out loudly. Your hands clawing down his back as you came undone.

You were too dazed in your high, groaning and panting as Nicholas pulled out, groaning as he pumped himself watching as your whole body twitched.

Your legs flung closed as you stared at him, exhausted as he whined before he came on your thigh, whimpering and panting as he did so, his arm leant against the wall behind you as it supported his weight - his face mere centermeters away.

"Holy fuck-" You chuckled, out of breath as you stared at him.

His chest rose and fell as he stared up at you with hooded eyes. His finger swiping his cum off your thigh as he held it up to you.

You smirked, leaning forward and sucking it off his finger as you looked at him. He smiled at you before pushing himself off the wall as he stumbled back to the couch, laying back on it as he sighed - catching his breath.

"That was more of a workout than my actual workout sessions.. jesus Christ", Nicholas groaned, his arm resting up above him.

You pulled yourself off the desk, your legs slightly wobbly as you slowly approached him. You sat beside his head, lifting it and resting it against your thigh as you sighed.

"I think we've got the sex scene down, don't you.." You laughed, running your fingers through his hair.

"Oh, definitely" He smirked up at you.

It was safe to say, when the pair of you finally caught your breath you showered and got rechanged into your costumes. You had to cover up all the marks on your neck but for Nicholas it was fine, he was already marked by makeup so hopefully no one could tell the difference.

When the pair of you got to set, you definitely delivered the sex scene, going beyond the script. Hair pulling, finger sucking, tit grabbing, ass grabbing - the lot. Safe to say everyone was impressed.

"CUT! That was exactly what we needed, guys!" The director clapped as you and Nicholas stared at each other, panting slightly. You smirked, looking down at the tent under the towel Nicholas was wearing.

"Please don't move- it'll be so fucking embarrassing", Nicholas begged. You chuckled, patting his chest.