#way too far ahead from how ever many years (

[bejeweledinterludes]

i was made for lovin’ you.

OR after years of unsaid emotions, supressed feelings and goddamn urges— you and dean finally confront the thing you'd both been avoiding: how there's so much you wanna do in the darkness. and you're gonna make all come true. tonight.

my masterlist

「 pairing 」 : dean winchester x fem ! reader

「 word count 」 : 5.6 k.

「 content / warnings 」 : MINORS LOOK AWAY !!!, lateish seasons (if you squint) dean winchester x reader's first time (not virgins though), unprotected (mostly) soft sex with feelings, feelings, feelings!, aka porn WITH plot!, p in v, handjob, dean being a munch ofc (this is canon. go argue with the wall.), swearing. please let me know if i missed anything!

𖤐 ────────────────────────

from the moment you first met dean winchester while working a case, you knew you wanted to fuck him.

which was a little strange, because you didn't think like that outright about too many men— not ones you knew in real life, anyway.

but here the stupid bastard was, with his annoyingly pretty face and those stupid, big, rough fightin' hands that could touch you everywhere, pull the prettiest sounds right from you—

oh, we're getting way too far ahead of ourselves. you shoved those thoughts away. come on, this was a freakin' case. lives were at stake.

and once the initial secret lust you had finally went away, you realized you were experiencing something much greater than some stupid crush on dean.

because the more hunted with him, you got to see not just the tough, hard-as-nails side of him— but you saw the other side.

his people side.

you got to see the way he interacted with every single person he encountered on a case, not resting until the threat was completely gone and ganked. and sometimes, when a case hit too close to home, he treated victims and affected family no less than his own fuckin' family.

and you knew from your own personal experience that he'd do just about damn near anything for the family he did have. saw the way he got all soft and sweet around kids— and after a good while, even around you.

and that's when you knew you were in trouble.

you'd known dean for years now. and nothing had ever come of you two except him being one of the greatest friends you'd ever had.

but god help you if you didn't want more.

and nothing like a quick fuck, either. no, you wanted to be there for everything— even on those deathly-quiet nights when dean's thoughts got too loud and the debilitating weight he was carrying all alone just got too heavy, you wanted to be the one keeping him afloat.

it was something dangerously close to love.

you tried to ignore it at first. push it down. and it did work-- for a while. until fucking dean started acting weird around you, too.

and now things were... complicated.

you didn't know exactly when things had shifted so much to the point that it almost became unbearable to even be in the same room as dean without either of you knowingly holding back just spilling your guts-- but god, it was worse than dying.

inevitably, one night, it all just snapped.

there was no dramatic fight, or screamed confessions from either of you. no, it happened late in the darkness, when you both were sharing a motel room.

which would have made you fond of all the times you guys had shared motel rooms in the past— you would've smiled at the thought of younger you trying to make the most out of the fact that you had to share a room with a fucking boy.

but dean was now much more of a man than ever before now.

thank god there's two separate beds, you initially thought.

now, though? there wasn't a need for two beds anymore.

because you still somehow ended up in dean's that was closest to the window.

in his lap.

and kissing him.

you were sure you were in just another one of your dreams or fantasies you conjured up to get off— but you could feel dean's hands on you through your shirt, grasping at the fabric. so this had to be real— but just for precaution, you roll your hips into dean's a little.

yeah. that sound he made when he grinds his hips up into your own was definitely real— and right in your mouth.

you knew you were probably moving too fast— but fuck if you cared. your hands sneak in between you both and trail downward on the front of dean's shirt, not stopping until you reach the hem— and your voice is a whisper against dean's kiss-swollen lips.

"arms up, de."

and dean obliges in a heartbeat, raising his arms up over his head immediately— and he's silently praising the fact he decided to just wear a t-shirt to bed.

you actually somehow had only seen dean shirtless once or twice over the years— the latest being last summer when the air conditioning in the bunker was broken, and you conveniently and hurriedly stated that you had to stay in your room the entire day—because it was so much more skin than you were used to seeing.

but now?

you're staring.

dean's looking at you looking at him— and if the motel room wasn't so dark, you could've sworn his face got a little pinker under your gaze.

but you don't dwell on that for too long. because your hands are itching to reach out and just touch— and the moment your fingers start to graze on dean's biceps first, his eyes flutter shut and he lets out a shaky exhale, fighting to keep himself under control.

because it's you that's touching him.

you're still touching him when you lean back and kiss his lips again— and dean is very aware of the fact that you still have your shirt on.

but you have to break the kiss after a while to get stupid air— and your hands are reluctantly taken off of dean's skin, much to his protest. but the words he was about to say die in his throat when he sees where your hands were going.

you grasp the hem of the oversized shirt you were wearing, tearing it over your head and discarding it in the same motion— all while you were silently thanking whatever had possessed you not to wear shorts to bed.

or a bra.

and now, dean thinks he might die.

it was his turn to stare, eyes raking and flicking over every inch of you as you're straddling his lap like he didn't know where to look first— and dean's just so in awe, he says what he was thinking out loud in a barely-audible.

"god, you're beautiful."

you can feel a blush burning your cheeks at dean's words-- and judging by the way his eyes widened ever so slightly when he uttered those words, you knew he meant it. you smile softly down at him, your voice just as quiet as his once was.

"you're not so bad, yourself.''

and that makes the corner of dean's lips turn up in a small, soft smirk. god, he loves you. and he's gonna show you that.

all night long.

dean starts with his hands, the rough callouses trailing up your thighs, hips, waist, stomach, tits, arms, back— fucking everywhere on your bare skin as he stares up at you.

but your hands move on dean, too— touching him everywhere you could reach before you go lower, your fingers grazing on the waistband of his boxers— but you look back up at him again, a silent question in your eyes.

dean looks confused for half a second— until he realizes you're asking for permission. then he nods, his heart feeling warmer than it was before.

you tear his boxers off in one fell swoop— and holy goddamn.

you stare— again. and dean's fighting the urge to roll you over onto the mattress and just taking you.

instead, he forces himself to stay still under you— because the urge to do that and see what you do next is stronger.

dean's smirking up at you. the damn idiot. and then he quietly murmurs out—

"your turn."

you'd almost forgotten you still had your underwear on— oh, but dean didn't forget. the speed at which you yank down the fabric and discard it somewhere in the motel room should be a world record.

you look back down at dean again when you get situated back on his lap— but he's not looking at you anymore.

no, the man gulps at the sight of your pussy being exposed to him— and it takes him a while to look back up at you, his voice low and rough.

"c'mere."

you obliged, one of your hands reaching down and grasping dean's own that had been resting on your thigh.

this was new. oh, so new. dean wasn't new to you by any means, and that familiarity, that bond was still there— but he was new in this sense. this was different.

this was real.

dean was a man who rarely ever got what he really wanted— so you wanted dean to get whatever he wanted out of what was about to happen between the two of you.

"tell me what you want, dean," your voice is a mere whisper. "tell me what you want me to do, and i'll do it."

dean really thinks you should be illegal. you're all he's ever wanted—and you're asking him what he wanted.

he doesn't answer right away— dean's eyes rake over your naked form in his lap, and he's got his hands resting on your thighs as he meets your gaze once more.

"touch me."

you knew what dean meant by that. dean knew what he meant by that. and you both were fully aware of the line you were about to cross. but you weren't even nervous. and neither was he.

so take your hands, reaching down and trailing a path on dean's lower torso before you take him all in your hands.

and dean thinks he might die.

again.

because you start stroking him slowly— you weren't an idiot, you knew if you went too fast at first, it would hurt dean like a motherfucker rather than feel good.

and you're just looking at him, reading his reactions, making sure that it feels good.

all dean can get out at first is your name. he had opened his mouth to say something, but that's all that came out in a broken groan. he's letting out these little broken noises of pleasure— and his head has to fall back on the shitty motel room’s headboard so he doesn't cum right there.

you keep your pace of your hand on dean's dick steady, only increasing the intensity after a few moments when you can tell he needed more— by the way he gripped onto your hip, his rough fingers curling into the meat of your skin— and by the way he was fighting back the moans that had been treating to escape his throat.

it was definitely embarrassing how close dean was to cumming already, he knew that. but he also knew it was because it was you who was bringing him there. not some quick fuck with a chick he'd met that night, or his own hand— no.

it was yours.

and that thought combined with the way you're still looking at him— in awe, like he's something out of a museum, gets him way closer to the edge you were guiding him to.

"i'm— fucking christ, jesus—"

your name along with the man upstairs' son had come out of dean's mouth in a desperate attempt to warn you that he was right there, all because of you.

"i gotcha, dean," you whisper, and your free hand not jerking him off reaches to cup the side of his face as his head's tilted up towards you.

"just let it happen."

and that does it for him.

dean cums hard, his hands clutching on your thigh and part of your hips with all he's got, gasping and groaning, letting little out broken moans the whole way down.

you just guide dean through it with your hand, watching him under you as his skin was all flushed and red now, hair sticking up everywhere (courtesy of your hands), his pupils blown out and half-lidded before shutting fully.

"y'okay?" you whisper, your eyes flicking over dean under you. his own eyes continued to be closed— and you take that time to grab a tissue from the nightstand, wiping your hand clean before looking back and giving dean your full attention.

your other hand was still on his face, your thumb grazing on his cheek now, and for a split second, you almost think dean must not have liked it, or you went too far, because he wasn't saying—

"holy shit."

the curse leaves dean's mouth as his eyes open— and all he can do is reach his free hand up that wasn't grasping yours between the two of you already and rest it on the one cupping his face.

you can't even open your softly smiling mouth to respond, because the next words are coming out of dean's mouth, his voice still raw and rough from the way you just broke him apart.

"you know what i wanna do right now?"

you tilt your head a little to the side, still looking down at dean below you with his back resting against the headboard as you so desperately wanted to know.

"what?"

dean's downright devilish smirk reappears— and his eyes flick down to your almost dripping pussy that was spread as you straddled his legs before looking back up at you, his voice still rough as ever.

"I wanna taste you."

and a strangled sound gets stuck in your throat at the mere thought of dean eating you out. maybe it was a little embarassing how breathless your voice sounded when you leaned just a fraction closer to him.

"then go ahead."

an actual growl escapes dean at that— and you don't need to tell the man twice. he's got you flipped over and pinning you down, your scorching back hitting the cold motel sheets before you can even blink. you stare up at him when he hovers over you, both hands on the sides of your head, holding him up— and he's just looking at you.

but dean doesn't stay like that for too long. his lips hit your neck immediately after he leans down enough— and he starts just attacking at your skin, nipping, biting, sucking— he draws a path all the way down, until he reaches your now sopping pussy.

dean changes his position when he does, spreading your slick inner thighs further apart and settling between your legs, wrapping a strong arm around the meat of your thighs.

but he hesitates for a brief moment. he likes eating out pussy, but did you enjoy it? his pussy-drunk eyes flick up to yours— and you're a sight all spread out for him, your back against the pillows and sitting up a little so you could watch.

"i ain't gonna be gentle. y'know that, right?"

you knew that dean had always been considerate of you, long before this night— for as long as you'd known him, for that matter. but hearing him tell you that he didn't want to be gentle made your gaze soften and a smile tug on your lips as you nodded in response.

"yeah, i know."

and in that moment, dean thinks he loves you.

well, in all actuality, dean knows he loves you— but seeing you all soft and just so goddamn pretty in the moonlight that's filtering in through the motel room window, he's well aware of the blessing that's before him.

dean gives you one last smile— softer this time. then he dives in, burying in his face and going at you full force, his tongue flat and working against your puffy, slick folds before letting out a groan that vibrates everything.

and dean was right.

he was not gentle about it.

your eyes threaten to flutter shut as dean's tounge works on you— but you force them to be half-lidded as you look down at the sight of dean eating you out like a starved man.

and he's looking right back at you as he does it.

your hand flies to grasp onto dean's that was still resting on your thigh as his mouth continues to attack you— and he gladly takes it in his, not faltering his pace once.

you couldn't help but bite down hard on your bottom lip, attempting to contain the moans and noises that were threatening to spill out of you— and dean isn’t having it.

“nuh uh, darlin’,” dean shakes his head between your thighs, talking right into your pussy between flicks of his tongue on your clit. “i wanna hear you— wanna hear how goddamn good i’m makin’ ya feel right now.”

and with that, your mouth drops open almost immediately. it's like a switch flipped in you— and the first moan you let out is his fuckin' name.

"dean..."

christ on a cross. dean had wanted to hear just anything come out of your pretty mouth, but his name being the first thing on the tip of your tongue does things to him.

dean's imagined you moaning his name countless times, of course, but nothing can compare to the real you right now— tits heaving, groaning and eyes fluttering a little each time he brushes on a few sensitive spots on your pussy with his tongue.

now, it's embarrassing how close you are to cumming on dean's tongue. and oh, he notices. he holds your bucking and writhing hips down with his free hand that's not grasping and holding onto yours—

and goes to fuckin' town.

"fuck— dean!" you think you're gonna pass out— because you could barely hear the sounds of dean slurping up your juices and sucking on your clit when you cum without warning, back arching off of the sheets and grinding into his tongue, your grip on his hand becoming almost bruising as the pleasure cascades over you in waves.

dean doesn't look away from you for a second as your pussy flutters on his tongue, moving his mouth slower once more to not let a drop of you go to waste, making sure you're completely spent, pulling soft groans and gasps from your lips.

your legs tremble and shake under the arm that dean had wrapped around your thigh— and he takes a second to just watch you in the post-orgasm state you're in.

"y'okay?" dean's voice is rough but soft at the same time, looking up at you from his position between your legs like you're the night sky itself.

you open your eyes again, lifting your head off of the pillows just enough to see dean's eyes looking right back at you— and oh, he's a sight, his lips, nose and chin absolutley covered in your slick— and his hair's even more messy than before now.

"yeah", you breathe out softly, managing a nod against the pillows. "yeah, i'm all good. c'mere."

dean sees the soft look in your eyes— and his own gaze melts as he obeys, lifting off of the mattress and out from between your legs to hover over you, your faces just inches apart again.

dean can't look away.

and he never wants to.

"you're goddamn gorgeous, y'know that?" dean murmurs as he looks down at your moonlit face.

at that, you reach your hand up in the distance between you two, cupping the side of dean's face— and his head immediately leans into your touch before you whisper back.

"and you're perfect, dean."

dean's chest tightens at that— and his gaze somehow softens even more. no one's ever called him perfect before, and he couldn't think of one person in his life who even believed that to be true.

but you were looking at dean like he was.

you notice dean's reaction immediately— it was hard not to with how close you were.

you meant those words you said to dean— because being perfect wasn't about having absolutely no flaws or weaknesses.

it was about knowing that, and still carrying on anyway.

and then it clicks. because you could talk all you wanted to dean.

or you could show him how perfect he was.

"lemme show you," you whisper before dean could even open his mouth to deny it. "let me show you how perfect you are, dean."

and those words are completely breaking down what little resistance dean had left. his eyes actually get a little misty as he’s looking down at you— because he can't believe you're here, telling him everything he's never heard before.

dean nods— and his voice is shaking with anticipation mixed with pure awe.

"yeah. yeah, okay."

and that's all you needed. you look at dean's face one last time before lifting your head to close the little distance between the both of you, kissing him with everything you had to give him.

you didn't kiss dean like before— that was in a state of pure lust, desire, and want. now, you're kissing him softer, slower, and with purpose.

and purpose was exactly what dean needed. he tries to keep himself upright and hovering over you, but the way you're kissing him has his arms trembling as you're literally melting him.

you only take my lips off of dean’s when the air he and you had been breathing through your noses wasn’t enough— and your thumb grazes on his cheek again as his forehead rests on top of yours, eyes fluttering a little as i whisper against his lips.

“lay down for me.”

you don't have to say it again. dean obliges in a heartbeat, lifting off of you and rolling onto his back in one fluid motion— and you follow behind, tossing your leg over his to straddle him once more

dean’s hands go to your hips once you’re straddling him, looking up at you now— he still looks a little wrecked from earlier, and his chest is rising and falling in a slower, steadier rhythm than before, like he’s trying to calm himself down.

but seeing your naked form straddling him like this once more is just making his heart start to thump against his chest— again.

your hands find dean’s own on your hips,your fingers trailing on his skin, grazing past his wrists and up his arms— you're not exactly slow, but you're also not very fast with it, either.

no, you take your time touching dean all over again, fingertips tracing over every scar and dent you could see and feel as you're straddling him. your eyes flick up to his face, meeting his gaze once more— but you just keep touching him.

"oh, look at you," your voice is an awed whisper while your hands move on dean’s chest, grazing on the anti-possession tattoo he had on his skin. "see? you’re perfect."

and dean can’t help the little shiver your touch brings him right now, even though he's literally just laying below you, half-propped up by the pillows like you once were. he just can’t help it, because you’ve always been able to get the best reactions out of him.

dean swallows hard as your hands continue their journey over his body— your fingertips roaming over his skin, tracing all the scars he’d earned, right across his chest and down to his stomach.

and his breath actually hitches when you touch his anti-possession tattoo again.

your fingers trace on dean’s tattoo, watching and loving his reactions to just your freakin' hands.

and your hands stay resting on dean’s chest, but a little closer to his shoulders, shifting closer to him in his lap, pressing the entirety of your bare body completely against his.

your voice is still a whisper when you talk again, searching his face as you ask him to do what you've always wanted to.

because you needed to show dean how much you wanted him.

"can i ride you?"

if dean was hard before, it's nothing compared to the way his dick almost hurts now, throbbing at the way you asked permission to ride him.

"god, yes" is what comes out from dean's clenched jaw, and his gaze is locked onto yours as his hands rest on your hips.

a soft smile tugs on your lips again, your gaze flicking down for a brief moment when you hear how strained dean’s voice was— and the sight of him hard for you sends a wave of heat that pools in your stomach, making you clench around nothing.

because you needed dean just as badly as he needed you.

your eyes flick back up to dean’s green ones. and you notice that neither of you are nervous for his to happen. this was dean, after all. you'd wanted him in the least friendly way possible for as long as you could remember— and now? it was actually going to come true.

you didn’t have to ask dean anything else, or even say something. he wanted all of you— and you were going to give it to him.

so that’s why you shift a little, reaching down and guiding yourself to sink onto dean, keeping his gaze while your hands are still on his shoulders.

a broken groan escapes dean when you start to lower yourself down on him— and his own body’s reaction to your walls sucking him in just makes him want you even more.

dean lets his gaze travel all across your face— and he’s still looking right into your eyes when he lets himself go completely slack underneath you, letting you take the lead.

your fingers dig a little into dean’s shoulder at the burning sensation of your pussy being stretched— and your breath hitches, hard. your head falls forward a little as you screw your eyes shut.

your mind had felt like it was going over a thousand miles per second, but when your legs finally hit dean's and your pussy hits the base of his dick, everything just... goes away.

and dean couldn’t keep himself completely still anymore. he actually growled a little when he felt you fully sink down on him, and the sound that left him when he feels your tightness around him was a little more primal-sounding than he’d like to admit right now.

"oh, fuck," he breathes out your name, "you’re tryna kill me."

you can only respond to dean’s words with a strangled noise as the burning sensation was becoming full-throttle now, your grip on dean’s shoulders a little tighter, your head still hung as you try to keep my breathing steady.

because you literally couldn’t move yet. it was still the best feeling you'd ever felt— but you had to get used to dean's dick being buried deep inside of you before you could actually start to move on top of him.

and the way you’re holding on to his shoulders right now and how you’re trying to hold back little noises is driving dean insane.

he’s gripping your hips so tight that it has to be almost painful, and his eyes are fixed on you, still watching you while he tries to stay still for you. but it was taking a hell of a lot of effort on his part.

dean's chest is rising and falling fast, and he can’t help it when he finally chokes out your name in a whisper, unable to keep it in anymore.

"move. please."

at dean’s plea, you flick your hips just a little to see if you were adjusted yet.

and oh, were you ever. your fingers finally release their death grip on dean’s shoulders, one of your hands finding and grasping one of his own that was on your hip— and you finally start to move on top of him, rocking your hips into his.

the groan that escapes dean is the deepest one yet, his hand clutching onto yours and his eyes shutting for a moment as he feels you moving, his free hand tightening on your hip again.

"oh, god," dean gasps out, "jesus—"

you let out a raggedy exhale mixed with a moan, attempting to stop your eyes from rolling back into your head as you continue to ride dean's dick. it was hard, but you managed to keep your eyes open and half-lidded and on him, wanting to see his face— and you grind your hips into his faster and harder.

seeing you like this was getting to be borderline unbearable for dean.

your tits are bouncing a little in dean's face, and you're just not letting up, and you're so tight and warm, and he just fuckin' loves you—

dean realizes he's gonna cum if you keep this up.

and the embarrassing part is you barely even started riding him.

so it’s a damn good thing he’s still got a shred of control over himself right now.

"je— s— slow it down for a sec, darlin'," dean manages to get out, gritting his teeth as his eyes screw shut. "please."

the moment those words leave dean’s mouth, you immediately do as he says— you don’t abruptly stop, instead gradually slowing your movements to allow for an easy transition.

your hand trails up from dean's shoulder to cup on the side of his face while your're still on top of him— your eyes then search his when you breathlessly whisper to him.

"you okay?"

dean opens his eyes when you ask him if he’s okay right now, knowing that was pure concern in your words. he’s taking a moment to let his body level out a bit, since you stopped like he asked you to. and when he does, he manages a nod once he’s able to somehow form words.

"yeah, 'm good, darlin’—" dean swallows and takes a big gulp of air. "just got a 'lil too close to the edge for a second there. don’t wanna blow it right now."

an exhale of relief you didn’t know you were holding in was let out at dean’s confirmation— and your thumb almost absentmindedly grazes on the skin of his cheek as your hand was still on the side of his face.

"oh," you also nod, gaze softening as you look down at dean under you still. his words make you feel warm inside, along with a little sense of pride, too— but you still had to confirm. "it doesn’t hurt, though, right?"

"doesn’t hurt,” dean responds immediately. and that’s a bit of a complete understatement, because being inside of you right now felt like heaven. his own hand comes up to where yours is, his fingers skimming over your skin as he smiles softly up at you once more. "just wanna be able to last a 'lil bit longer for you, 's all."

your eyebrows scrunch together at that, and your expression is almost goddamn melted at this point as you look down at dean. you weren't sure why those words impacted you so much, but your chest tightens with emotion before you speak again.

"oh, de," you literally whisper, your thumb still skimming back and forth on dean’s cheek. "y'know you don’t have to do that."

"yeah, i do," dean murmurs immediately in response, looking right into your eyes the whole time he talks. "i've wanted this— you for goddamn years. i'm not lettin' this end yet."

so you don't.

you nod, leaning in and pressing a kiss on dean's lips before you talk again.

"okay," you nod against his forehead. "just move me when you want to, alright?"

dean gratefully nods, too, appreciating your understanding. his hands find and hold your hips again—this time, with less of a death-grip. and after he takes a steadying breath, he starts to move you.

you just let dean work and grind your hips into his own, holding his shoulder and face with your hands, allowing him to take what he needed and set the pace.

after a while, though, dean lifts you up off his dick by your hips a few inches before setting you back down fully, repeating the motion— starting to actually fuck you a little.

you'd been quiet for the most part so far— but once the head of dean's dick brushes against that spongy spot deep inside of you, a string of broken moans and gasps spill from your lips.

and that just spurs dean on.

you'd both waited long enough now. it's been years of stolen looks, suppressed jealousy, unspoken thoughts and feelings— and tonight, you're making it all come true in the darkness of the motel room.

thank god dean's hands had been guiding your hips— because you're starting to unravel faster than you can comprehend. and so is dean.

dean's fucking up into you now like he'll never be able to fuck you again— which you both know wasn't true. and after tonight, you know you'd happily sleep with dean's dick buried inside of your pussy.

it takes only a whimper falling from your lips for dean to know that you're close— and your hand flies down to one of his on your hips again. he gladly takes it, wanting to hold your hand when he cums inside of you—

wait. is he allowed to do that?

"y— oh," dean groans out your name— he has not been silent throughout this entire ordeal, either. broken noises of pleasure and little groans of your name escaped his lips whenever your walls clenched around him. "can i— god—"

you didn't have to ask what dean meant by that. you nod almost frantically as his hand are still gripping your hips, guiding your pussy up and down his dick— and you squeeze his other hand tighter, the one you were holding.

and only then does dean let himself go, again.

your orgasm comes at the same time dean's does— and you both arch into each other and trembling as your moans echo off the motel room's walls. dean's face buries between your tits and groans into the skin while he spills up into you, your juices mixing with his.

you both stay like that for a while, naked, sweating, slick and gasping for air for god knows how long— until dean's raw and breathless voice vibrating on your breasts breaks the silence.

"i think i was made for you."

──────────────────────── 𖤐

you now have two ( 2 ) new message from the author ! ↓

oh heyyy... are any of y'all still here ??? but seriously, on a real note— if you have stayed to the very end: first, THANK YOU for reading! and second, if you enjoyed, please consider SHOWING ME THAT ( reblogs / comments / etc ) because this took me FOREVER to write, and i want to know if my efforts are worthwhile!

OH i also used a very special headcanon from @figthoughts' mastermind brain for this one because mr. dean winchester holding your hand while he eats you out is very much and totally 100% canon for me as well. fig you match my freak like no other and i hope to one day write as good and absolutely filthily as you do HEHE smooches to you my pookie <3

my master taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @figthoughts @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlesoulshine + if i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3

[kthologue]

if i can't have you— gojo satoru

contents. fluff, clanhead!gojo, yandere tendencies, oblivious!reader, he’s a little sick in the head but reader's an enabler

notes. a little concept i thought of. not proofread sigh

clanhead!gojo, who you’ve known your entire life. born into two of the oldest jujutsu clans, you were raised side by side. you were the only constant in a world that demanded everything from him before he even had the chance to ask.

clanhead!gojo, who swears that you’re like a little sister. always an irritating and reckless thorn in his side, always throwing yourself into things without thinking. he says it like a joke, like a punchline, hoping the words will sound true if he repeats them enough.

but he knows it is not. not with the way clanhead!gojo has practically been obsessed with you since his youth. who has everyone falling at his feet. who abuses his power in order to keep you by his side, no matter the cost.

clanhead!gojo who remembers many years ago how he had persuaded you, with that devil-may-care grin, that it would be a brilliant idea to practice your first kiss together. “come on,” he’d said, “wouldn’t it be better to do it with someone you trust?”

clanhead!gojo, who feels invincible when you finally kiss him for the first time, as if everything in his life had led to this moment. in that instant, he knows that there’s no way he’s ever letting you slip away.

but now clanhead!gojo is stuck listening when your aunts gather in hushed tones over tea, whispering about your latest courtships, your hopeful suitors, the potential match your clan is eyeing. he pretends not to care. he tells himself he doesn’t. that he's gotten over you. that he's gotten over a silly childhood infatuation. and yet his jaw tenses. his eyes narrow. his hand curls into a fist beneath the table where no one can see.

he tells himself it’s just instinct. old habits. protective, brotherly concern. he’s always been like that with you, hasn’t he? watching your back. hovering too close. stepping in even when he shouldn’t.

but it’s not concern that keeps him up at night replaying the sound of your laughter, or the way your smile lingers like a bruise on his chest. it’s not brotherly to remember the curve of your shoulder when you walked ahead of him at the last clan gathering, unaware he was staring.

it’s not family that makes him hate the idea of you belonging to anyone but yourself. or worse—anyone but him.

and yet he says nothing.

but he listens. and he watches as the stranger sits beside you at a clan meeting. 

the room is filled with hushed chatter and the clinks of porcelain dishes. it’s a formal clan dinner, with every head of every allied family gathered around the table. gojo satoru sits at the head, uncharacteristically silent, fielding endless questions about the clan’s future.

but he’s not listening.

he can’t.

all because you had walked in with a man he doesn’t recognize, smiling and practically glowing, introducing him as a dear friend from a recent trip to kanazawa.

and satoru’s blood has been boiling ever since.

honestly, don’t you have shame?  bringing home a man you have yet to commit to—what are you trying to prove? 

he clenches his jaw and bites his tongue as elders speak around him, voices muffled beneath the sound of your laughter floating down the table. that bright kind of laughter he used to hear in private back when it was just the two of you skipping meetings and chasing dragonflies.

“sato?”

the nickname cuts through the room like a knife.

you’re smiling at him. that teasing, knowing smile that makes his chest cave in.

“what are you brooding over there for?” you ask, tilting your head just slightly. innocent. unbothered. as if you hadn’t just upended his entire sense of balance with your presence.

the sound of his name, that version of his name slips from your mouth like silk, soft and far too familiar for the way things are supposed to be now.

he stiffens, a flush crawling up his neck that he prays no one notices. he used to bristle at that nickname—sato—when you first gave it to him. but now? it’s the only name that makes his heart stutter.

 “i don’t think you’d be able to handle the thoughts in my head right now,” gojo says smoothly, his voice a little too soft to be casual.

it’s almost convincing, except even he can’t make sense of the storm in his chest.

you tilt your head, eyes glinting. “are you calling me dumb?”

gojo chuckles, the sound warm and real. it was the first genuine laugh that’s passed his lips all evening. “no, no. i’d never dare. i’ve seen you with a fan and a grudge. i fear for my life.”

you lean forward slightly, lips quirking. “smart man.”

he raises an eyebrow, playful. “i have my moments.”

“few and far between.”

he grins. “yet somehow i’m still your favorite.”

you roll your eyes, but the fondness in your gaze betrays you. “you’re delusional.”

“maybe.” he lets his eyes linger on you a beat too long. “but i’m not wrong.”

there’s a pause.

just long enough for your date, who’s been quiet through the exchange to glance between you two and clear his throat.

“i didn’t realize you two were so… close,” he says, the question barely hidden in the statement.

gojo doesn’t look away from you when he replies, voice lighter than air. “old friends. we go way back.”

you smile politely at your date, but there’s something wistful in your expression. “some habits are hard to break.”

and gojo swears he sees it—that flicker of doubt in the other man’s eyes.

good.

let him know you were never his to win.

that’s why when you storm into the compound three days later, hair slightly tousled and annoyance written all over your usually composed face, tossing your phone on the table with a dramatic sigh, clanhead!gojo can’t help it.

he feels elated.

he plays it cool, of course. reclines back on the tatami mat, long limbs stretched out, lips twitching at the corners.

“what’s got you in a mood?” he asks, already knowing the answer. already hoping.

you shoot him a look and groan. “he ghosted me. just disappeared.”

gojo raises an eyebrow, biting back a smile. it was a good thing that bastard made himself scarce before gojo had to intervene.

“how long has it been since the dinner, three whole days? should we send out a search party? put up flyers?”

you scowl. “i’m being vulnerable and you’re making jokes.”

he holds up his hands in mock surrender, but the grin sneaks in anyway. “sorry, sorry. it’s just... shocking. who wouldn’t want the pleasure of being haunted by you on a daily basis?”

you glare at him, but it’s softened by the way your lips threaten a smile. “don’t make me regret confiding in you.”

he shrugs, letting the silence settle for a moment. then, more quietly,  “maybe he realized he was in over his head.”

you look at him, surprised by the shift in tone. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

gojo meets your gaze, and for a second, there’s something else there.

“not everyone’s built to handle someone who actually matters,” he says, voice casual, but his fingers tap a restless rhythm on his knee.

you blink. “well. that was weirdly nice. are you feeling okay?”

he rolls his eyes. “i'm always this kind.”

but you’re still looking at him, eyebrows furrowed, like you’re trying to piece something together.

“i just...” you hesitate. “it’s starting to feel like maybe i’m not supposed to end up with anyone. like i scare people off.”

something flashes in gojo’s eyes, too fast to name.

“you don’t scare everyone,” he says quietly.

you don’t respond immediately, but your gaze holds his  like you're trying to decipher something he hasn’t said. gojo doesn’t break eye contact either, and it feels like you’re both trapped in a trance.

then, you scoff, breaking the silence.

“you don’t count,” you say, your voice light but filled with an edge.

he raises an eyebrow, half amused, half confused. “what? why not?”

you tilt your head slightly, lips curling into a half-smile that feels a little too vulnerable. “i don’t know… you’re different.”

gojo’s expression shifts, softening just enough to make his heart beat a little faster. 

“i mean…” you trail off, awkward for a moment before you manage to push the words out. “it’s not a normal relationship to practice our first kiss together.”

he blinks, momentarily thrown off by the sudden shift in tone.

and then, it hits him. his teenage self’s desperate, pathetic attempt at wooing you.

right. that. the kiss.

gojo sometimes forgets how much of a charmingly conniving little shit he used to be. the memory of his teenage self trying too hard, fumbling with the moment, comes rushing back. a rush of warmth rises to his cheeks, but he hides it behind a sarcastic grin.

you shift, and for a moment, there’s this quiet understanding between you both. 

he looks at you, really looks at you, the usual teasing spark in his eyes replaced with something different. he opens his mouth to say something, but the words don’t come out right away.

"you know..." he starts, his voice lower than usual. "maybe we never really practiced that first kiss. maybe it was just the first time we... realized it was something we should've done a lot sooner."

you blink at him, your heart unexpectedly catching in your throat.

“wait…what?” you say, laughter bubbling nervously at the edges of your words, but the way your voice trembles says something different.

gojo just looks at you, the corners of his lips curling into something that almost resembles vulnerability. “didn't you feel something too?” he steps a little closer, eyes fixed on yours like he's trying to read the unreadable.

and maybe you finally realize it then, like a wave crashing over you that he’s been trying to say this for so long. 

you take a shaky breath, locking eyes with him. “you’re not saying that you have feelings for me...?”

gojo rubs his temples, letting out a frustrated laugh. “i have been at your mercy my entire life, how much more obvious could i be?” his voice is a mix of exasperation and something deeper, the smirk on his lips faltering for just a moment, his usual cocky demeanor slipping as his frustration becomes clear.

he leans in slightly, his tone turning more intense. “i made all of the guys at jujutsu tech swear off to you." the words hang between you two, and for the first time, there’s no playfulness in his voice, just the truth, raw and unapologetic.

you freeze, disbelief painting your face. your mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to process his words, before you finally manage a shocked gasp. "that was you?!"

his posture casual as though this is nothing new, but there’s a subtle intensity behind his playful demeanor. "well, i didn’t trust anyone else around you. "

your heart beats louder now, your breath quickening. you know you should be angry, that you should call him out for his overbearing actions, for crossing boundaries in a way that feels almost possessive. yet, despite your better judgment, a twisted part of you can’t help but feel… pleased.

but it’s still too much to say all at once. so, you take a deep breath, and you can’t help but laugh softly. the years of hesitation comes crashing down.

your voice quieter now, more certain. “so... what do we do about it?”

“get married. have ten kids. move to a cozy cottage in okinawa,” the words almost slip out, unbidden, but gojo stops himself. it’s too much to ask, too soon.

instead, he finds himself leaning in, his fingers gently cupping your cheeks, the touch almost trembling despite his usual confidence. his thumb brushes against the soft skin of your face, and for a moment, everything else fades. he realizes in that moment that nothing in his life could possibly matter more than this.

you blink up at him, and in the way your eyes look back at him so widely, so softly—he feels like he’s been holding his breath his whole life, just waiting for this. waiting for you to look at him like that. he could drown in that gaze, could get lost in it forever.

gojo leans closer, his heart pounding, each beat louder than the last. and then, finally, he kisses you.

it’s not rushed. it’s not like the first time, awkward and fumbling, full of uncertainty. no, this time, it’s everything he has wanted and more. his lips move against yours with the kind of certainty he’s never known before, and when he pulls away just a fraction, it feels as though the world has stolen his breath, leaving him gasping for air.

so gojo goes back in for another.

[thecherrypittttttt]

I CAN SEE YOU; dr jack abbot x chief res!reader

words: 3,200+

content warnings: jealous abbot, fluffy, YEARNING, lil bit smutty

notes: based off of this banger

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

He was everywhere. Or at least it felt like it.

His shoulder brushing against hers as they lifted a patient from gurney to bed. His rough but warm fingertips skimming her own soft, manicured ones as they swapped shift notes. Every hallway she was entering, he seemed to be exiting - their bodies just barely grazing each other as they passed by. In the ambulance bay, outside the family room, the break room, at the nurses station.

He was everywhere in that damn ED. And now he was here too - at her usual hot yoga class.

Jack already felt like a fool for being there. His therapist had been telling him for years to try yoga and for years he had been rolling his eyes at the suggestion.

Typically, he was pretty good about listening to his therapist but what could yoga teach him about focus and presence that years in combat and emergency medicine hadn't already?

That was until she showed up.

Jack can still remember the exact thought he had the first time he saw her, 'Thank god she is not on the night shift.'

Her confidence, her beauty, the way her hips swayed when she walked, her brain, her laugh reverberating through the ED, how calm she was under pressure, her smart ass comments that made him crack a smile even on the worst of shifts - would all cause him a lot more trouble than they already did if she was with him on the night shift.

The first year of her residency was fine. He barely saw her and when he did, he told himself that he was just proud of a competent student who had a bright future ahead.

The second year of her residency, he had to admit to himself that he had a crush. A crush that he could never ever act upon - it was inappropriate on so many different levels - but a crush none the less. He was her boss, her teacher, at least 12 years her senior and he respected her far too much to let his own selfish wants get in the way of the career she had worked so hard for.

This third year was absolutely fucking killing him. He thought he had finally gotten a handle on his crush. That admiring her from afar was the closest he’d ever get to having her. And he was okay with that. Until Shen and his wife had a baby and Shen asked her to swap shifts with him.

In true Shen fashion, he didn't even mention it to Jack. Jack just choked on his coffee when she walked through the door and told him the news. When he asked why she'd agreed, she just shrugged and said, "If I'm not going to have a life outside of this place, I guess Shen can."

It has only been a month of her on the night shift and Jack already feels insane. Which is how he found himself at the closest yoga studio to the hospital. He was desperate to regain his previous level of focus so when his therapist suggested yoga again, he listened for once in his life.

Once he saw her, Jack probably had about a 5 second window to escape the studio without being caught. But he missed it because he was too busy drooling over how her skin tight powder blue leggings complimented the swell of her ass.

"Dr Abbot?"

Too late now. She unrolled her mat next to his, because of course the only spot left in the class was next to him, and then she just looked at him with a shadow of a smirk on her face.

"What is so funny?"

"Nothing. I just never would have pegged you as a hot yoga guy."

"I'm not."

She just raised her eyebrows in question.

"My therapist suggested it."

"Therapy and yoga? Next you're going to tell me you have a Nobel Peace Prize or something."

Jack's lips couldn't help but mold into the smallest smirk. He was so happy this room was dark. "No...just a purple heart. Only had to give them my leg to get it.”

The laugh she let out earned them a couple glares but Jack could care less about disturbing the quiet of the yoga studio when she was looking at him like that.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

She felt almost nervous as she trekked up to the roof. Their shift had sucked - plain and simple. It felt as if everyone coded in some capacity. One of the many they could not save was a veteran and Dr Abbot had just gotten through telling the family.

Probably why he was getting chicken wings and beer DoorDashed to the roof of the hospital.

She opened the door with her hip, both hands being occupied by Dr Abbot's delivery.

"What are you doing here?"

"You know they only pay residents so much - I had to pick up a side gig." Dr Abbot's was too distracted from the long day to realize she was making a joke.

His face falls into what reads as surprise and then sympathy. Like he's been an attending for so long that he forgot the abysmal wages residents make.

"I'm kidding! Your dasher took his job title a little too seriously and dropped this off with me in the ambulance bay and told me to get it to the 'guy who is always on the roof.'"

"You didn't have to come all the way up here."

"I wanted to check on you."

"I would have come down to get it. I have legs."

"You have leg. Singular. Not plural."

Jack let out a genuine laugh that he didn't even know he was capable of after the day they had had.

"Have you ever considered stand up?"

"Have you ever considered standing on the safe side of the safety railing? Just a thought."

"I like the view from here." He was staring right at her.

Ironically enough Jack had started going to yoga to distract himself from her and it has done the complete opposite. If anything, the friendship they have struck up has made him more bold. They have a routine - they work, they go to yoga, they get a tea and then Jack drives her home. And they yap the entire time.

Oh yeah, she's started calling him Jack now. So much so, he doesn't blush anymore when she does it. But she is blushing now.

Her cheeks are burning red. She is hoping to blame it on wind burn or something. Is Jack finally flirting with her? Ever since they ran into each other at yoga, class by class, she has gotten him to relax around her. She gets more Jack and less Dr Abbot. But still, it feels like he's restraining some piece of himself from her.

She noticed last week, when she mentioned her rapidly approaching residency graduation, he seemed different. At first he seemed surprised, almost like he forgot there even was a residency graduation. Then relieved like the concept of her no longer being a resident was exactly what he needed to make any kind of move. Or so she hoped.

She turns, his food and beer in hand, sits against the wall of the hospital and cracks open a beer. What is she doing? She doesn't even like beer. But she likes Jack. And is trying really hard to not imagine the muscles she sees under his shirt at yoga being used to press her against the wall she's sitting against.

"Hey - that's mine."

"Get over here then, Abbot."

He takes off of his jacket on his walk over and she allows herself only a second of imaging it on her bedroom floor. The feeling of Jack placing it around her shoulders and plopping himself next to her brings her out of her head.

"You don't have to-" She starts.

"You’re cold." He gently tugs her hair out from under his jacket and she wants to absolutely melt at the brief sensation of his touch on the back of her neck. She has to stop herself from whimpering. She tells herself to get a grip.

She just holds up her beer, "Consider this my delivery fee."

Jack clinks his beer against hers, "Cheers...to being a yoga guy."

Her bright eyes blow to the size of saucers, her jaw drops, and she's laughing as she knocks her shoulder against his, "I knew it!"

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Jack is in trouble. He now has an unlimited monthly yoga membership to the studio closest to the hospital even though he only ever goes with her after their shared shifts. He thinks he may be falling in love. Fast. And even worse, he is starting to allow himself to think that maybe she is too.

He thinks maybe it was always there for both of them but something about this impending residency graduation has given them both the freedom they needed to explore it. Not that anything has actually even happened.

She felt stupid. She was close to getting herself a neurology consult for the way she was thinking. Nothing had ever actually even happened between her and Jack. But having to go from experiencing his quiet confidence and intellect and calm teaching at work to his sweaty muscles and heavy breathing at yoga had her brain running absolutely wild.

He probably sees her as nothing but his favorite resident and she is practically falling in love with him. And that isn't a hyperbole.

The night was slow in the ED. Noone dared to say that out loud though. Especially since it was still earlier - barely 9 PM. Some of the day shift was even still there - opting to work their mandated monthly double shift on a slow night.

They were both at the nurse's station - always in each other's orbit. Jack was charting and she was recommending a jeweler to Bridget. She had found him when looking for someone to make a custom dog tag necklace that was meant to be a replica of the kind her dad wore when he was in the Army. When he died, they were never able to recover his actual tags.

Jack's phone went off and he stepped away for a moment before returning. He pointed at her before tucking his phone back in his pocket, "Gloria says we have a VIP patient en route from PPG Paints Arena. Connor Matthews from the Penguins. And he has specifically requested you."

If she didn't know any better, she could've sworn Jack's jaw twitched.

The murmurs began real quick. Why was the star of the Pittsburgh Penguins requesting her? She hated that Connor was coming in but she sort of loved that Abbot could potentially be jealous.

Princess cut straight to the point, "How do you know him?"

"We grew up together. He played hockey with my brothers."

Connor was being ushered in, still in his jersey and ice pack resting on his forehead, as she walked over to him.

Jack watched out of the corner of his eye, hoping he was looking like an attentive attending rather than just plain jealous. He pretended to be charting but he was straining to hear every part of the conversation.

"I texted you."

"I know."

"I called you."

She grits her teeth as she repeats herself, "I know. I also know that you could have gotten stitches from the team doctor so why the dramatic visit?"

"I think you know why."

"Connor, I don't know how many times I have to tell you this-"

"I know! I just can't help myself."

"Well start." She deadpans, flashing her light pen way too close to his eyes. Maybe not the most professional thing in the world but he deserved it for wasting her time like this.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Checking for a concussion."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Mateo, can you please take him over to a room and stitch him up?"

"I requested you."

"And I request that you stop wasting my time at my job that you disrespected then and you are disrespecting right now."

"I didn't mean to."

She ignores him. She gets one more quip in before Mateo is wheeling Connor away. "Oh, Connor, I almost forgot - are there any 21 year olds we need to call to let them know you're okay?"

She hears a muffled laugh behind her. She turns to see Jack, elbows on the counter of the nurses station, pretending to be engrossed in his charting. She goes to plop down in the seat in front of him.

"Eavesdropping is impolite, you know?"

"I don't know what you are talking about"

"My standup career, remember?"

Jack grins at her, his eyes soft and then he does the unimaginable. He winks at her. Like he is acknowledging he got caught listening in on her conversation with Connor. She almost falls out of her chair. He seems perfectly fine, walking around the nurses station to grab one of the tablets.

"Didn't know your boyfriend was a hockey super star." He speaks up from behind her.

"Ex boyfriend."

She feels his breath on the back of her neck before she hears him. His tone is low and almost sensual, "Good." is all he says before he's walking away.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

She doesn't know who is squeezing her harder - Dana or Collins. The moment she stepped into the bar they were running over, squeezing the living shit out of her and whispering 'Congratulations' into her ear.

"Congratulations on what?" She laughed.

"Graduating residency!"

It was tradition, every summer when the residents graduated, the attendings took the team out to celebrate on their tab. Legend has it, there used to be a graduation ceremony with speeches and presents and an open bar. But due to budget cuts, Abbot and Robby had to take matters into their own hands - and credit cards.

"Oh and Robby has a surprise for you." Collins added.

"Oh no. If it's anything like the surprise he gave you last year then I decline! She is so damn cute though." Robby and Collins won't actually admit that their baby girl was conceived on this same night last year but the rest of the pitt crew have decided to make it canon.

"Before I hand you this drink, I need you to sign this. If you want, obviously" Robby interrupts - the world's largest grin on his face.

"Sign wha-" The realization dawns on her mid sentence. It's her offer letter to become an attending at the pitt.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Absolutely sparkling, shining letter of recommendation from Dr Jack Abbot, by the way. He never writes those. Almost gave Gloria a heart attack with that one.” Robby winks at her as he hands her a pen.

She signs. They cheer. They hug. They cry a little bit. Happy tears - at the idea they now get to spend more time together rather than one of them getting shipped off to a different city for a new job.

She can’t remember the last time she was this happy. And a lot of it has to do with someone who isn’t even here yet. She spots him walking in and her feet are carrying her over to him before her brain can tell her to stop.

A smile appears on Jack’s face when he sees her. She’s not in scrubs or workout clothes - although she looks just as beautiful in those.

She’s in a white sundress and sandals. Her hair wavy and her cheeks tinged pink and laden with freckles. He noticed hers come out more in the summer time, just like his.

They’ve never really hugged before but she’s throwing her arms around his neck to hug him hello and his arms wrap around her waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s so close he can smell her lip gloss and he wants to kiss it off of her more than anything.

He settles for, “I heard I have a new colleague.”

“Aren’t you lucky?”

“Very.”

Then she’s pulled over to chat with her fellow residents. Abbot over by Robby and some of the other attendings.

Drink after drink, people start to fall off. She joins Collins and Dana and eventually the boys make their way over as well. Everyone is making bets on who is going to go home with who.

Santos goes home with Garcia. Easy money. Same for Victoria and Mateo. Langdon goes home alone and sober - thank goodness. Dana’s husband picks her up and Collins and Robby have to go relieve their baby sitter.

Robby sets his half finished beer in front of her, “Here, finish my beer. Don’t wanna waste it.”

She grimaces and Collins cackles, “Robby, you know she hates beer!”

Then they were gone. Jack wore the world’s cockiest smirk on his face and they were alone.

“So did you hate beer that day on the roof too?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

The bar is shutting down so Jack pays the tab and they make their way out into the sticky, summer air.

“Come on - I’ll drive you home.”

They’re walking so close their hands brush about five times on the short walk to the car.

She turns to Jack before he can open her passenger side door but he was one step ahead of her. He’s practically an inch away from her as he speaks.

“You know there used to be an actual graduation ceremony for the residents. With presents. So I got you something.”

“You didn’t have to-“

Jack just places the small box in her hands. He takes her purse so she has free hands to tug the ribbon and open the present.

She gasps - her dad’s dog tags. Presumably, the real ones. She can’t even form words, “How did you even-“

“Called in a couple favors.”

A couple of tears fall because this is the absolute nicest, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for her. Jack is hesitant in his reach but the loving look in her eyes spurs him on. His hand cradles her cheek, wipes away her tears.

“Jack-“

“Yeah.” His voice is clipped, out of breath, expectant - hanging off her every word.

She nods her head, almost to encourage herself, before looking back up to him, “I’m going to have to get a new job if I am totally reading this wrong but I think I’m in love with you.”

“Thank fucking goodness.” And then he’s grabbing the box out of her hands, placing it and her purse on the hood of the car before his hands are on her. Kissing her with every ounce of pent up longing from the past three years.

She’s pressed against the passenger seat of his car, her hands in his hair and his cupping her face.

Eventually, his forehead falls to hers as he whispers against her lips, his hands resting on her waist. “I love you.”

“I’ve pictured this so many times.”

“You won’t believe the things that I’ve seen in my head. Wait until you see half the things that haven’t happened yet.”

“Well then why don’t you show me, Jack.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

He’d already pulled an orgasm from her using his thigh - had her pressed against his front door.

“God, you’re fucking perfect. I can’t believe I get to se you like this.” All she can do is let out a low moan in response.

Her body felt like it was on fire. Since they’d moved into the bed he’d made her finish on his fingers and now was eating her like she was his last meal.

She tugged at his curls, finally, after imaging it so many times. He groaned into her, inserting another finger and sending her over the edge.

“Oh - Jack! Oh my god-“

“There she is - my good girl.”

He’s insatiable and who is she kidding - so is she. He’s kissing up her body, pinning her hands above her head.

“Jack, I need to feel you. Please.”

His hand lightly wrapped around her neck. He whispered in her ear, “God, I love you.” And then he’s kissing her forehead and sliding into her all at once.

“Holy shit - you’re so fucking tight. So fucking perfect.”

“I love you.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

Neither of them last much longer. She’s on orgasm #4 and he’s on #2 (she’s been waiting for years - she couldn’t not suck him off the first chance she had).

“I’ve never orgasmed that many times before.”

“Pretty good for an old man, huh?”

“All that yoga must be paying off.”

They laugh - all that yoga is paying off far more than either of them could have ever imagined.

[thebibliosphere]

Listen, if you’re messaging me to tell me you hate how slow I am at making “content” (i.e. 120k novels) and you wish I was less sick so you can get more “content” you can just go ahead and unfollow me now.

You’re being neither kind nor supportive by telling me you hate my disabilities because they prevent you from having fun.

“so-and-so has X disability too and that doesn’t stop them—“

I’m so pleased for them, but disabilities are not a monolith. We don’t even experience the same conditions the same way. Please never ever use one disabled person’s experiences or capabilities to negate the life experiences of another.

Also, the “if you have time to write fanfic you have time to work” comment was super shitty.

I have been exceptionally open with my struggles with mental health over the last few years. Do you know how hard it’s been for me to find enjoyment in anything since 2020?

Do you know what it means to me to finally have something that’s fun and just for me again that I’m not beating myself up over because I “Should” be working?

Obviously not, or you wouldn’t send messages like that. You can just kick rocks, as far as I’m concerned.

To everyone else who sends me sweet messages telling me they love Hunger Pangs and can’t wait for more but also to work at my own pace: thank you. I don’t get to reply to as many of you as I’d like, but it means a lot to me to know you care about my health and mental wellbeing.

Have a Holly Mop watching over me. (Feat Mothman)

[08luvmailz]

★ ﾟ๑ CONSOLE ME , AND THEN I'LL LEAVE WITHOUT A TRACE ୧ ⊹ ࣪

ᡴꪫ which yeon sieun sees you after a year of leaving you behind ୧ ⊹ ࣪ first part ／ party on you ୧ ⊹ ࣪ third part ／ I'd do anything just for me to see you again ──⠀ angst / no comfort , set on ep1 of s2 , sieun's pov ⸝⸝ ◜◡◝ the first part was supposed to be just a oneshot, i have no place to make this whatsoever but since many requested and i have a plot, i decided to make it. hope you all enjoy, kindly read the first one to have more background of what happened.

reader will be called dokja ／ because in reader in korean is dokja

At first, I never really cared for her. She was just a classmate — someone I talked to during group work, someone who laughed a little too brightly, who asked too many questions.

I would see her in class, voice too loud for the hour, laughter spilling like sunlight on polished floors. I saw her in hallways, always walking ahead or brushing past — never too far, never too close. I didn’t mind her. She was just… ordinary. Just another face in a sea of faces, nothing to remember. At least, that’s what I told myself.

And then I started noticing her more often — not intentionally, not all at once. Just… little things. The way some girls whispered behind her back, voices sharp with envy or something close to cruelty. “I don’t care,” I told myself as I slipped my earphones in, letting the music drown out the world. But as soon as I wrote down words in my notebook, my thoughts strayed — not to formulas or sentences, but to her.

I barely knew her, and still, I thought… she didn’t deserve that. I didn’t care, I told myself again. But somehow, she stayed in my mind longer than she should have.

And then I saw her go quiet. I didn’t think much of it — she was just a classmate, nothing more. But slowly, people began to drift away from her like she carried some invisible weight they didn’t want to hold. I told myself I didn’t care. Still, there were moments I’d catch myself looking — really looking.

She’d lower her head, pretending to sleep, but her shoulders would tremble ever so slightly. She must’ve been crying. I didn’t ask. I didn’t move. I didn’t care… or at least, that’s what I kept saying. But sympathy crept in like a whisper, and I hated that part of me that noticed — because she was still just a classmate. Nothing more.

Then, for a while, I stopped looking at her. She faded back into the noise — just a normal classmate again.

I went on with my routine: sleep, eat, study. Eat, study, sleep. On and on like clockwork.

But somewhere in between the silence, I started to hear her voice again — light, bright, almost chirpy, like birds in spring. She was talking to someone… Suno? No — Suho, I think. I didn’t care enough to know. But I noticed something. Her smile — it was different. Wider. Softer. Maybe that was her real smile. Maybe that’s how she looked when someone made her feel seen.

I glanced at her talking to him, her smile — it was pretty. But before I could even let the thought settle, I quickly averted my gaze, focusing back on the formulas I was scribbling in my notebook. Still, my mind kept crawling back to her, like an ant drawn to a sugary fruit, helpless to resist. She's pretty, I thought. But she's just my classmate. Just that. Nothing more.

And then she noticed — caught me staring. Our eyes met, and for a split second, I forgot how to breathe. She smiled. Soft, like it meant nothing at all, like it was the easiest thing in the world. I looked away. Maybe she thought I was a creep. Maybe she was smiling at someone behind me. That’s what I told myself, anyway. Because the truth was, her smile made my chest ache in a way I didn’t understand, and I didn’t know what to do with that.

But for a moment, I felt like I was dreaming, like the world around me was moving too fast. Everything blurred — her laugh, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke, the sound of her voice — it all tangled together, slipping through my fingers like water. I couldn’t quite grasp it, but I couldn’t look away either. It was as if I was standing on the edge, watching something beautiful unfold, yet too scared to step forward.

The table I used to sit at during lunch, it was just me, my food, and my book.

It was peaceful, and I was determined to study, to block out the noise of everything else. But in the blink of an eye, there were three people sitting there. I didn’t mind it one bit. Is this what it felt like? I hadn’t felt this in ages — the warmth of people around me, sharing the same table, eating the same food, chatting like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It was simple, something I had forgotten in a while. But, this is what i needed — what i wanted.

Her annoyance, Suho’s bland jokes, Beomseok’s laughter — it was a rhythm, a melody he never imagined he’d be part of, yet here he was. The moments were so simple, but in their simplicity, they held a weight he couldn't explain. Just the four of them, laughing, teasing, existing together — and he cherished it.

It was the kind of warmth that crept into his chest, quiet and steady, something he never knew he craved until it was there. The noise, the chatter, the feeling of belonging — it was everything he hadn’t realized he needed.

But then, with every sunny day, there was a shadow that stretched long and unyielding. A darkness that he couldn’t escape, no matter how hard he tried. It was the kind of dark that clung to him, tightening its grip until he could barely breathe.

It was a nightmare, relentless and suffocating, one that twisted and turned with every breath he took. No matter how much he wanted to wake up, no matter how much he fought against it — he never did.

And then, it all crumbled. I remember the last time I saw her, the last time I felt her.

She stood there, in front of Suho’s bed, her arms wrapping around me in a way that made the world pause. I could feel the warmth of her embrace, like a sanctuary, something I had forgotten existed. It was the kind of warmth I didn’t deserve. Her presence pulled me in, and for a moment, I tried to block everything else out — the guilt, the fear, the suffocating weight of it all. But no matter how hard I tried, it crept in like a shadow, gnawing at the edges of my mind. It was my fault. I couldn’t escape it.

We stayed there together, outside Suho’s room, for hours. Her hand in mine, her fingers steady and warm, grounding me. Her hand on my shoulder, her touch gentle, like she was trying to tell me everything would be okay.

My head rested on top of hers, just for a moment, but it felt like a lifetime.

She didn’t say anything, and neither did I. There was nothing left to say, not when everything was falling apart. But all I could feel was the warmth of her, a fleeting comfort that only made the gnawing guilt inside me worse.

And then, she had to leave. Her parents came, pulling her away from me, from this moment. The last thing I saw was her mouthing the words, “It’s going to be okay,” but I couldn’t bring myself to believe her. Not then. Not now.

After that, everything was a blur. Like the world spun faster than I could keep up with. I tried to focus, tried to do what I was supposed to do, but nothing seemed to matter anymore. I transferred schools, thinking it would make everything easier, as if running away from the memories would somehow fix me. But it didn’t.

Every day felt like I was sinking deeper into a pit I couldn’t escape. My mind kept returning to her, to the way she felt in my arms, to the sound of her voice, to the warmth she gave me that I didn’t deserve. I shut it all out, but I couldn’t shut her out. She lingered in the back of my thoughts like a constant ache.

But deep down, he knew. He didn’t want to talk to her—not because he didn’t care, but because he was afraid of what his words would mean. Afraid of what it would do to her, to them. So he kept ignoring her, pretending it was for the best. He found comfort in the silence, but it gnawed at him.

One day, she reached out again. At first, I thought maybe this time would be different. Maybe I could reply, tell her the truth, apologize. But the guilt slammed into him all over again. Every message, every word she’d sent, was like a reminder of how I’d failed her. Of how I pushed her away when she needed me the most.

I started looking for excuses, for reasons not to reach out, even when I saw her messages pop up on my screen. At first, I thought maybe I could talk to her, tell her what had happened, apologize. But every time I saw her name, the guilt was there, suffocating me. It was easier to ignore her, to let the silence between us stretch on, to convince myself that this was what was best for her.

I told myself it was for the better. But, it hurts so much. I need her.

But deep down, I knew it wasn’t. Every message she sent, every question she asked, it felt like a weight pressing against my chest. I wanted to reply, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t face her like this, not when I was falling apart. Not when I had ruined everything.

Every time he saw her name pop up on his screen, he felt like his chest would collapse in on itself. He wanted to ignore it. He wanted to ignore her, pretend she wasn’t still trying to reach him, trying to hold on to the past that he couldn’t fix. But the messages were endless. 9 p.m., 11:30 p.m., 2:14 a.m., morning. She was always there, always waiting. And every time, it hurt.

So I did what I thought was easiest — I put her on spam. I tried to forget her, tried to convince myself that ignoring her was the right thing to do. But every night, as I lay awake, I found myself scrolling through our old messages, through the photos we shared, through the times when things were easier. And it hurt, more than anything.

His heart heavy with every word, the bickers they had. Even if he was the dry texter. He remembered the way she asked him for help with problems, the way they’d share laughs, the late-night hangouts just the two of them. Back then, everything had felt simple. Pure. But now, looking at her name on the screen, it felt like a reminder of everything he’d lost.

He cried when he saw them. The hours of unanswered messages. His phone screen became a constant reminder of the fact that he couldn’t be the person she needed. He couldn’t give her the closure, the healing, the peace she deserved. And he hated himself for it.

She told me that she would always be there for me, I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me.

I cried, more times than I could count. I cried because I missed her. I cried because I knew I’d never be the person she deserved. I cried because of the nightmares. And I cried because I was too weak to make it right.

"I ignore her. She’ll hate me. That’s good. She deserves peace after this," he told himself. But it didn’t make it hurt any less. The more he tried to convince himself it was for the best, the more the ache in his chest grew. He didn’t want her to hate him. He didn’t want her to leave him behind.

But he couldn’t stop the spiral. He wanted her to move on, to live her life without him, without the weight of their shared past.

But how could he ask her to do that, when he couldn’t even let go himself?

And then he heard her voice. At first, he thought he was hallucinating. Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him, or another dream he couldn’t escape. But then he stepped outside, and there she was. He froze. His heart thudded loudly in his chest, each beat painfully distinct. He didn’t even run. He just stood there, staring at her—at the tired figure standing in front of him.

She looked different, somehow. Her jacket slipped off her shoulder, the bags in her hands clinking softly with each step. And was that... a flower in one of the bags? The urge to reach out, to hold her, almost overwhelmed him. His body screamed for it, but his mind... his mind couldn’t allow it. Not yet.

Then his mother's voice echoed in his mind, sharp and clear. "Is she your friend? You didn’t tell me she was coming?" And just like that, it all came crashing back. The promises he'd broken. The ignoring. The leaving. The silence. Guilt wrapped around him tighter, and for a moment, it was suffocating.

Without thinking, the words slipped from his mouth. "I don’t have any friends. I don’t know her."

The words were like daggers. His voice was steady, cold even, but his gaze... his gaze was locked onto hers. He didn’t mean it. He didn’t want to say it. But somehow, it came out.

And when he looked at her—really looked at her—he saw the hurt in her eyes, the way her shoulders slumped slightly, as if the world had just grown heavier. She looked so small. So vulnerable. And he had done that to her. He had pushed her away when she needed him most.

He did it. But, it hurts. It really does.

She turned, slowly, as if she was trying to give him one last chance. But she didn’t say anything. She just... left. And he stood there, paralyzed, as the door clicked shut behind her. He could feel the emptiness in the air, the crushing weight of everything he had just destroyed. He wanted to call out, to run after her, to tell her it was a mistake. That he didn’t mean it. But his body wouldn’t move. He was rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the very guilt he had been carrying for so long.

His mother said something, but he didn’t hear her. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. All he could feel was the cold air around him, the deep ache in his chest, the echo of the words he wished he could take back.

He didn’t move. He just turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last, each one feeling like shards of glass beneath his feet. He told his mother that he needed to study. But every step on the hallway seemed too long. The silence too thick. He wanted to scream, to disappear, to escape from everything he had done.

But he couldn’t. All he could do was retreat into his room, lock the door behind him, and bury himself in the darkness. His bed was the only place that felt familiar, but even then, sleep was out of reach. He tossed and turned, restless and tormented by the image of her walking away, and the sound of her voice fading as the distance between them grew.

And somewhere in the quiet, he realized—he had already lost her.

And when he finally lay on his bed, it all came rushing back.

The warmth.

The first time their eyes met, the way her smile made everything feel brighter, even in the quietest moments.

He remembered how she would come up to him, randomly, asking questions—always wanting to learn, to understand. And he would answer her, speaking the words she needed.

She’d sit beside him, always so eager to learn, and he thought she found him boring, especially after her endless questions turned into silence. She became quiet, and that, too, felt like a shift he didn’t know how to navigate.

Then came that one time when she wanted him to explain something in English, and as he did, she blurted out, “You should speak more. Your voice is like marshmallow.”

Her smile made his heart stutter. He felt like he was on clouds, his chest light but his stomach tightening in a way he couldn’t explain. He had to break eye contact, focusing on his book to hide the heat rushing to his cheeks, but the sentence he was trying to read? He couldn’t focus. It felt wrong. It wasn’t like him.

The candies she would give him. “Mint is good for focus. Suho told me.”

The way they’d share food, her small, quiet gestures always speaking louder than words. And the lunches. She’d sit next to him, and it was always just the two of them—until Suho showed up, and Beomseok too. His table, once empty, was now filled with them, and he didn’t know if he should be thankful or terrified. They were there, and he couldn’t push them away.

Then there were the rainy days. The shared umbrella, too small for the both of them, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her getting sick. So he tilted it toward her, just a little closer, not thinking twice about the consequences.

He almost got a call the next day for missing school, but he hadn’t cared. He just wanted her to be okay.

It was all slipping away now. His hands gripped the sheets as memories tangled with regret. The tears started, hot and heavy, before he even realized they were there. He didn’t know when the sobs came, but they were there now, uncontrollable, as he lay in the dim light, overwhelmed by everything he had lost.

He glanced at his phone. The time was 7 pm and he glanced at the lock screen. It was her. Her smiling face, hair loose, the one she’d stolen from him when she’d gotten her hands on his phone. She’d set it as his lock screen, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and he hadn’t minded.

In fact, he’d never wanted to change it. Not until now.

His hand shook as he unlocked it, staring at her face for one last time. He couldn’t stand it anymore.

Without thinking, he deleted the lock screen. The image of her was gone in an instant, replaced by a cold, empty blue display.

He lay there, staring at the ceiling as the heavy silence of his room pressed against him. His phone, now locked with a cold, indifferent blue display, sat on his nightstand. It felt like a physical weight in the room, an anchor to a past he desperately wanted to sever. Yet, in the hollow of his chest, something long forgotten ached—something that belonged only to her. The memories would rise like unwelcome ghosts, flickering at the edges of his thoughts, no matter how hard he tried to push them back.

He hadn’t meant for it to come to this. The distance, the silence—it was supposed to be the easy way out, wasn’t it? She didn’t need him in her life anymore. She deserved better, a future without someone like him, someone who couldn’t even manage to keep the people closest to him safe. He clenched his fists, the ache in his chest flaring like an open wound. I don’t deserve her, not after everything I’ve done.

I’m sorry, he thought, his chest tightening. I’m so sorry.

But he never said it to her face.

A year has passed.

Sieun didn’t keep track anymore. He only counted time in therapy sessions, pills swallowed, hours spent pretending to sleep. But that day, he found himself outside Suho’s hospital room again—his usual spot on the bench across the door, his head bowed, hands clenched. The log sheet was new. He scanned it out of habit. Her name wasn’t there.

She must have stopped coming.

A dull ache settled in his chest. It was for the best, he told himself. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it?

But fate is cruel when it chooses to be kind.

Because just as he finally sat down, the door creaked open.

There she was.

She stepped out of Suho’s room like a memory peeling itself off the wall. Still in that uniform—their old school uniform. Her skirt a little longer than the standard, her cardigan slightly oversized, she dyed her hair the way she wanted and asked the three of them if she would look good on a light brown look. He remembered the way beomseok and him nodded but then suho contradicted that she would looked like she's wearing a wig— a kick on his face was the answer for that.

She looked the same but older. The same but distant. The same but not his.

Their eyes met.

And for the first time in months, he felt like he could breathe.

But it was a cruel kind of breath, the kind you choke on.

Time slipped.

And suddenly he felt like he was in junior high all over again.

Instantly, he remembered the very first time he saw her.

He had been standing outside the teachers’ faculty room, arms full of worksheets the teacher asked him to return. But his grip faltered, and the stack scattered like brittle leaves onto the cold floor.

He’d dropped to his knees, flustered, reaching for the pages scattered like fallen leaves. Shoes passed him, careless, stepping on some of the sheets — he didn’t care.

Not until the door creaked open. He flinched at the sound, and when he looked up, there she was. Standing still. Her eyes found him, wide and startled, not with pity, but something gentler — concern.

She knelt down without a word, her small hands brushing against his as she helped gather the pages. Strawberry clips in her hair, low pigtails framing her face. She didn’t smile, not yet. But her presence was enough to make him forget the hallway noise, the sting of embarrassment, the weight in his chest.

She was really pretty.

He didn’t know her name back then. But her kindness made his chest ache in a way he didn’t yet understand.

She handed me the worksheets with a soft smile and tilted her head, “You okay, Sieun? Do you want me to help you carry some?” Her voice was light, almost teasing.

I blinked at her, confused for a second — how did she know my name? But then I saw her eyes flicker down to my name tag, and I felt stupid for even questioning it.

Still, for some reason, my mind blanked. I felt like I was turning dumb, just standing there with my hands full and my thoughts even fuller.

But just as I was about to say something — anything — a voice from down the hallway called her name. One of her friends, waving her over. She glanced back at me with that same bright smile and gave a small wave, “Watch your step, Sieun-ah!” she said, lighthearted and cheerful, before running off.

I stood there for a moment, frozen in place, clutching the stack of papers like an idiot. I didn’t move. Not yet. I just... stood there, feeling the echo of her smile linger a little too long in my chest.

But that was then.

Now, the girl from that memory stared at him like he was a ghost.

Her face was blank. No smile. No worry. No softness.

Just a tired look—like seeing him drained her.

She pulled her headphones on without a word.

And walked passed right pass him.

Not a glance back.

He didn’t call after her. Didn’t move. Just sat there, hollowed out, trying not to show how badly it cracked him open.

Right, he thought bitterly, swallowing the lump in his throat. As he looked down at his phone, that he was messaging Suho.

As he typed the words. "I just saw Dokja, She's really pretty with her brown hair. But, we don't talk anymore."

"She’s not my 'friend' anymore."

And there he remained.

Alone in the hallway.

Just him.

And the past they once shared—now sealed behind Suho’s door, like a memory too fragile to touch.

♡ note ───── Come on, don't leave mе, it can't be that easy, babe. If you believe me, I guess I'll get on a plane. Fly to your city, excited to see your face. Hold me, console me, and then I'll leave without a trace

♡ note ── hope you enjoy it, would upload the parallel version.

───── ★ requested by : @heeknow @alwaysgenerousvoid @snowflakemoon3 @yeon103 @kellystyles18 @littlebluebird2000 @hollxe1 @dripoftheseus @enhajungwonheart @energydrinkstastegood @zuwizy

[daddyslittlecrow]

“Do you hate me?”

Summary: Basically what I WISH happened after MC finds Sylus’ brooch.

Warnings: VERY smutty but with plot (I'm not an animal….yet) MDNI PLEASE 🙏

Pairing: Sylus x reader/MC

A/N: I'm sorry if this is in any way bad. This is the first time I've properly written in years. Please ignore all errors!! I'll cry!!

I've never written anything as spicy as this though so if you’re questioning my logistics or anything, please bare that in mind. Hope you enjoy x

You didn't understand him.

That's what frustrated you the most about the leader of Onychinus. You were usually quick to pick up on a person’s motives towards you. Whether it was a lingering gaze, a twitching hand or a forced smile there was always something they wanted. You didn't just use that power to survive, you used it to always stay ahead. But with Sylus? You could barely even tell if he hated you or was impressed by you.

“Have I underestimated your determination or overestimated your intellect?”

His words this evening echoed in your head, stoking a fire within you. You still hadn't forgiven him for the cruel hospitality during your first few days together. The dark circles under your eyes served as each night as you tried and failed to stop the sound of his gun plaguing your dreams.

Every morning since, you sprang from the soft silk sheets, a scream stuck in your throat and the ghost of his blood splatter on your hands. It felt like he wanted to punish you. Not to mention the horror you witnessed as his right eye blazed through you. Your brain only accepted it as a fucked up hallucination whenever you thought about it too hard.

Even if he wasn’t behind the explosion that killed your best friend, you feared he was capable of far worse. His Evol was violent and forceful, the pain it caused when he wrapped those black tendrils around you was only a fraction of what it could do. You were relieved he couldn't resonate with you and make his power stronger. It would be utter chaos.

Maybe that was his sole motive - to use you to make himself unstoppable. But you knew deep down that wasn't what he was after. Too many questions were left unanswered. His ruby eyes had searched for something far deeper within you, coaxing something that made your stomach clench.

What shamed you most was how the tension travelled lower, heating you up and liquefying your core. He was undeniably attractive but that was it. You just had to play along and get far away from him so you could find someone to quench your long-neglected thirst.

You sighed heavily as you scraped your hair back into a ponytail, aggravated when it got in your way. It didn't matter what Sylus was after. You had your own mission to deal with and you wouldn't let anything or anyone get in the way. That man was not your motive.

A glance at your phone screen reminded you that time was running out for the game Sylus dared you to play. 30 minutes more and your chance to attend the auction and look for the Aether Core slipped from your grasp. He seemed to be losing faith in you with every slam of his bedroom door but fuck it - quitting was never an option for you.

Slowly advancing down the long worn path to Sylus’ door, you opened it silently. You crossed the threshold, cautiously walking further into his elegantly furnished bedroom. The silver-haired monster sat upright in his bed, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He was fast asleep.

You smirked, pulling out the Evol-sealing handcuffs and tranquillizer gun the Twins had offered you. Time to put an end to this childish game once and for all.

————

A war raged within Sylus, threatening to drag him to utter despair. Or madness. He didn't have a preference so long as it dulled the ache that suffocated his heart. No one had ever made him feel threatened or weak since he first arrived in the N109 Zone. Fear was the default response from anyone unlucky enough to meet him face to face and he liked it that way. Power wasn't given. It was taken.

That belief had caused a fatal error when he finally found you. He expected to pull you into his world, where he knew you belonged. You were his. How could you forget that you were the sole reason his heart kept beating? Without you, he was only a shell of a man. He would burn down everything he had carefully built just for you to look at him right now without flinching.

Sylus devoted his life to finding you. It was no coincidence that you found yourself before him. As soon as you put yourself on the line, he tracked you down and took to him before anyone else got their hands on you. Your determination and strength were admirable, but your stubbornness made you reckless. It clouded your judgment and turned you into an easier target than you realized.

And now, nothing could make him let you go.

The shock of you not remembering him made him lash out in the only way he knew how. But that type of force wouldn’t work this time. No, this time, he would have tried something else.

The brief hint of your desire did not go unnoticed. He felt it, like an ache that worsened the longer his eyes locked on yours. As soon as he recognised it, he had to use every ounce of restraint not to claim you. He wanted to consume you in every way you’d allow him to. Replace the ache between your thighs with his hands, mouth and cock. Over and over until the only thing you could think about was him.

If you did not respond well to pain, maybe pleasure was the answer.

————

With his hand securely cuffed to the bed, you wasted no time. It surprised you how easy it was to sneak up on such a well-guarded man. Maybe it was because he didn't see you as a threat? A quiet huff escaped your eyes and trailed down his bare chest. You'd show him just how wrong he was.

Before your fingers could reach him, your wrist was captured in a strong grip. You gasped, snapping your head up to meet the epitome of arrogance. Sylus smirked at his uninvited visitor. The finale of his game couldn't have been more thrilling if he planned it. He welcomed the slight pinch of the handcuffs as he slowly looked you up and down, savouring how close you were.

“What do you plan to do then, since I've become your prey?” His taunt didn't deter you, in fact - it spurred you on. The brooch was yours. With his offer to help you, you finally made contact with his body. Your fingers caressed the expensive robe he wore, hunting for your ticket to the auction. You could feel those piercing eyes on you as he complied with your thorough inspection.

His scent - like spiced leather - made you painfully aware that you were in Sylus’ bed, alone with him. You felt his hand graze your leg, momentarily freezing your body. The thought of swapping places with him, you handcuffed and him towering over you flashed in your mind.

It burned your cheeks but you pressed on, knowing he could do nothing to you in this position. This stupid game had gotten to your head. That was all this was. Still, you couldn't stop yourself from voicing the question that consumed your mind.

“Do you hate me?”

You silently cursed yourself as you pulled your attention back to your mission. Why did you care whether he did or didn't? You swore you would never let anyone make you question your worth. That’s why you only relied on yourself. Never accepted any man’s advances unless it was for a single night of pleasure.

Then it was back to being alone. It was easier that way. You were more than capable of looking after yourself. You refused to look at his face again, your heart pounding furiously. No one had ever gotten under your skin like he did.

“Does my answer matter?”

The unexpected softness in his voice would've made you pause if you hadn't found the brooch that very moment. Your face broke into a triumphant smile as you stared at the sparkling red jewel in the centre. Thank f-

Your eyes widened in horror as the handcuffs holding Sylus hostage disintegrated with his Evol. He assured you he wouldn't go back on his promise. The air grew thick. His eyes darkened, hinting at a new game that had just begun. Neither of you moved. In an instant, Sylus had turned you into his prey. Revenge for assuming he could be yours.

Panic bloomed in your chest, desperately trying to launch yourself away from him. His arm quickly snaked around your waist, throwing you effortlessly into your back. Fear and arousal fought for dominance within you as Sylus gripped your hands, pinning you to the bed.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You spat, trying to grasp some sense of control over yourself. His grip was strong but not painful. Sylus didn't respond immediately, savouring the beautiful sight of you beneath him. A violent shiver hit you as he trailed his gaze from your blushing face, down your thin tank top and shorts, to your bare thighs. Then his eyes moved to lock on yours.

“You look so pretty like this for me, kitten.” His words did something unexplainable to you, a dark promise that made your thighs clench. Noting your sudden reaction, his bare knee slid between your legs, pushing them apart. You were trapped, completely at his mercy. You hated him, didn't you? So why did your body want him closer? As if reading your mind, Sylus let out a low chuckle.

“You aren't usually this quiet, care to indulge me in your thoughts?” The only thing you could do to retaliate was remain silent. Maybe then he would get bored and finally let you go. You struggled against him, trying to slip from his grasp but he only pushed you further into the mattress. “I see. You want to play by your rules? I'm only happy to oblige.”

You didn't need long to guess what he meant. He removed the space between you, claiming your lips with his. The kiss was like a bolt of electricity that coursed through you. Sylus was gentle but firm, moving his mouth as if to savour every moment. It was a stark contrast to how he treated you first.

You felt yourself be dragged down, melting against him. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip, a silent request. You accepted it eagerly, your mind refusing to focus on anything but him.

Sylus was a patient man. After all, he had waited for you all this time. But kissing you, feeling your tongue dance with his as he tasted you? He was close to becoming feral. He had to slow down, not wanting to force you anymore. This was your choice. As much as he didn't act like it, you were still in control. Slowly, his grip on your hands eased until you were free.

He reluctantly pulled away to look at your face, trying to identify what you were thinking. You were panting, lips swollen from him. He was rock hard and straining against his briefs just by kissing you. The loss of his lips released a small whimper as you opened your eyes to look at him. Your teeth bit your bottom lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape.

No man had ever looked at you like that before. Hungry, possessive, depraved. It made you so wet you could feel your panties start to soak through. You needed him all over you.

But there was also a silent promise in those beautiful eyes. He was not going to continue unless you wanted to. You were worth so much more than that. That alone gave you the security you needed. With your arms now free, you used them to prop yourself up. He watched as you turned over, placing the brooch that was still in your grasp onto his nightstand. His heart quickened but he remained still as you turned back to face him.

“You wanted to know whether it mattered if you hated me?” You began, raising your body to straddle his thigh. Sylus placed his hands on your hips, supporting you, eyes never leaving yours. Afraid that if he moved too suddenly you would run away. Your hands slowly glided across his chest, taking a moment to feel his muscular build.

His pulse pounded against your fingers. The corner of his lip quirked as you grew more bold. Gravity pulled you down, your aching core resting on a hard thigh. Not giving yourself time to think, your body takes control. Instantly you started to move your hips, seeking friction on your throbbing clit.

Knowing he was watching you shamelessly use him to get yourself off was too much. You grew slicker with each thrust and you moaned softly. It was the sexiest sound Sylus ever heard. Your right thigh brushed against his erection and you clenched with need. A low growl and his grip tightened, halting your movements.

“Y/N…” His voice was laced with a warning. Desperately wanting to punish you for teasing him. His cock already leaked with pre-cum, imagining how wet you were for him. Fuck he could practically smell your arousal. But still, he waited.

You leaned towards him, lips against his ear. One of your hands reached down to the belt of his robe, pulling it loose. Sylus - and now the relationship between you both - still confused you. You weren't sure what would come of this. All you knew was that you wanted to stop thinking, just for a while.

“Even if you don't hate me Sylus.” You opened his robe to reveal the outline of his erection. His hips jerked as you palmed his dick through the fabric, getting more lost in your desire for him. “I want you to fuck me like you do.”

That was the undoing of him.

He understood the underlying plea in your words. You weren't ready to face the truth, to acknowledge what existed deep down. Not ready to accept his feelings for you. Not now. But, he hoped, not never.

For now, you needed something else - something raw. And Sylus would do anything to give you what you craved.

You gasped as he threw you back down onto the bed, stealing all power from you. His robe was gone in seconds, puddled on the floor. He smirked at you before he placed his hands on your tank top and roughly ripped it in half. His attention was on your exposed breasts.

“Beautiful.” He murmured before kissing a path from your neck to your chest, stopping just above your left nipple. The compliment squeezed your heart. He looked up at you as you waited, your eyes hazy with lust.

With a flick of his wicked tongue, he caressed the sensitive nub. It hardened instantly. Your back arched, forcing your breast to his mouth as he feasted on you. His hand reached up to grab your other breast, clutching like they were made for him.

Oh, he was going to ruin you.

The pleasure of his mouth made you whine in ecstasy. You felt hot but your body shivered with need. Your hips bucked, seeking relief for your aching pussy. Sylus whipped his hand to your hip, stopping your movements.

“You were brave kitten, teasing me earlier.” He moved down your body without haste. Your impatient moans amused him. “Too bad I don't let bad behaviour go unpunished.” Without warning, he ripped your shorts off, exposing your soaking panties. He admired the patch of wetness that darkened the fabric. He took great pride in knowing he was the one that did this to you.

“You’re already a mess and I haven't even touched you yet.” He slid a finger up your clothed slit, rubbing a lazy circle over your clit.

“Shit.” You sighed against his touch. Hearing that delicious voice speak so filthily made you desperate for more. He chuckled darkly, enjoying watching you squirm from his touch. Let's see how you react to a different kind.

He hooked his fingers onto your panties and slowly pulled them down your legs, revealing your glistening slit. The cool air of the room against your wetness made you acutely aware that you were now fully bare before him. It somewhat sobered you. You moved your legs, in a weak attempt to hide from him.

“Don’t be shy now, kitten.” Sylus hummed in disapproval, pushing your legs even farther apart. You stopped resisting, submitting yourself to his touch. He paused, bewitched by the sight before him. You were magnificent already but when you were like this? Fully spread, eyes pleading. Fuck.

He wanted to release all restraint, free his straining cock and claim you right then. With a shaky breath, he centred himself, needing to see how you fell apart without distraction.

“Is this where you want me to touch you?” His large hand slid up your thigh, grazing the soft lips of your pussy. The teasing touch was agony. Your hand covered your mouth to stop your pleading whine. Sylus huffed, displeased you would deny him your sweet sounds.

Then you yelped.

With perfect precision, Sylus lightly slapped your clit. The attack was a sharp surprise but made your body hum with excitement. He was showing you who your body belonged to right now. With his hand raised again, you immediately brought your attention to his glowing eye. One word filled your head.

Obey.

“Let’s try that again kitten.” Sylus cooed, planting a kiss on your knee. “Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers?” You learnt your lesson quickly.

“Fuck Sylus, yes!” Your words came out in pants. Sylus noticed you practically gush at his words and he used it to coat his finger.

“Good girl.”

His praise was immediately followed by his finger thrusting hard into your pussy. Your arm instinctively rose again to muffle your scream. Immediately your wrists were captured by the black smoky tendrils of Sylus’ Evol.

He fucked his finger into you slowly, adding another once he knew you could take it. It was like he knew every spot that made you arch your back in pure pleasure. His pace was brutal - you never wanted him to stop.

“Do you like that, beautiful?” He purred, coaxing your pleasure like he put on this earth just to please you. He curled his fingers, finding your g-spot. The sensation caused your eyes to roll back, his name the only word you could spill from your lips. Sylus groaned at the sight of you, loving how you fucked his fingers. You were so tight. He couldn't stop thinking about how you’d feel squeezed around his cock.

“That’s it Y/N. Good girl. You're taking my fingers so well. God, you're so fucking wet for me.” You couldn't function, let alone reply to him. All you could do was moan as you rode his fingers.

“You feel…so fucking good.”

All he cared about was having you unravel for him. He kept up the pace of his fingers, driving into you. The wet lewd sounds of your pussy drove you both crazy. His mouth watered as he lowered it to your hard clit, leaving little licks that made you clench around his fingers. You tasted better than he could've imagined. He would gladly spend the rest of his life buried between your thighs.

“I’m not going to stop until you cum all over my mouth and fingers, okay? So be good and give me what I want.” The second his mouth devoured your clit, your release was coming fast. He sucked and licked like he had been starved of you, groaning into your pussy as your hands reached for his hair, pulling you closer. It gave you leverage as you rode his face, desperately chasing your release as the pleasure grew higher and harder.

“Please Sylus. Please I’m so close. I’m-” You came so violently that all you saw were stars. You screamed, not caring if anyone could hear. Your cum gushed out of you, soaking his chest and dripping down onto the sheets. Your pussy milked his fingers as they fucked you through your orgasm.

Sylus lapped at your dripping pussy, savouring your juices until you whimpered his name. You loosened the grip on his silver strands, heart pounding, face flushed. Your whole body buzzed as Sylus reluctantly left your pussy and withdrew his fingers. He kept his eyes locked on yours as he brought them to his mouth, sucking you off them with a smug grin. His actions made your core ache for him all over again.

“One could get addicted to the taste of you.” His voice was thick with lust. You glanced down at his tented briefs with anticipation. Sylus bit back a laugh at your excited gaze. With a glance at the clock on his nightstand, he sighed. Hovering over you he kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You were disappointed when he withdrew, pulling you up to sit on the edge of the bed.

“As much as I’d love to continue this, sweetie.” He brushed back the hair that clung to your clammy face. He loved how radiant you looked after you came. It was a sight he wouldn't mind seeing again soon. Your lips were captured one more time in a quick kiss.

“We have an auction to attend.”

—————

If you want a part 2 pls let me know!! I’d hate to leave my man blueballed hanging. I have no confidence in myself to think this is good anyway lol 🤪

-Elle 🫡

[writingbluerose]

That Butler, MAGIC TWISTED

✦ MASTERLIST | ✦ taglist ( if you want to be tagged, leave a comment or leave your request in the ask box ) : @lulu--lala19 @kiki-kuku @nyuu7 @bleh09 @moonwatcher2005 @toxicm0cha @boredwithlifeatthispoint @mewchiili @1nserturlhere @analiee6 @hheerrmmiitt @acersandterminal @citrine-everhart @paleocarcharias @s7-evermore

1 . AT NIGHT : unknown arrival

✦ summary : the meeting was horrible and your butler's attempts at calming you down seemed to fall on deaf years. Unfortunately for you, another problem will soon rise, and this time it seems like not even your loyal butler could get you out of it

The loud sound of heels clicking against the stone path echoed through the empty streets in a forgotten city in London. It was the dead of night, and you were far from happy. You'd say you were displeased and the last drop of patience you had was long gone. “Damn men and damn company” Trailing behind you, and yet not too far, was your ever so loyal butler Sebastian Michaelis. His eyes scanned your figure, a mix of pity and amusement in his gaze. He quickly made his way next to you and gave you a reassuring smile

“Now, now. My lady, you know stress and anger don't do good for you, how about you start to calm yourself hm?” How honeyed his voice sounded, every woman who'd hear such reassuring and considerate words would fumble immediately, unfortunately for Sebastian, you were stubborn, you've been so since the day you've made the futile mistake of summoning him, so therefore, his words fell on deaf ears as usual. Fingers clenched into fist and one angry pout on your mouth you continued to look ahead of you, ignoring Sebastian and still cursing the company under your breath

Ah yes, the company you worked under. Lunara Vogue. A fashion company which you love more than anything. Your talent and ideas have given you a good spot in one of the highest positions, with great colleagues and great opportunities. But, one thing you hated about it was the executive team which unfortunately for you, was made all of men. Men who you wouldn't have a problem with IF they would actually listen to you and your opinions. There weren't many women working in the company and you had told Sebastian this with a very disappointed look on your face while the butler found it most amusing, this modern world and its standards did nothing but confuse him. Coming back, the executive team wasn't really one you would put in charge of such a popular company, they were too full of themselves and thought that they could do no wrong, Sebastian saw it himself on one of the days you released a new line of clothing. And my, they were a troublesome bunch

The sound of your steps suddenly stopped making their way to his ears, and he stopped, looking at you and waiting for your next move. You stopped before a crosswalk to take a deep breath, your eyes making contact with Sebastian's,

“I'm sorry Sebastian, I'm so tired it's hard not to get angry at the littlest things” He gave a light chuckle and moved his hand to put your hair behind your ear “Nothing to worry about, little lady. I'll prepare you a bath and a warm meal so you'll rest well tonight”

He gave you a charming smile before gesturing at the crosswalk, motioning for you to walk. Your lips pressed into a thin line, you slowly started walking, the villa you had managed to buy with your money was only one out of the four you had outside of the city, and fortunately, it wasn't far, you could almost feel the softness of your bed and the comfortable pillows

But while dreaming, you were oblivious to Sebastian's body language : his shoulders tensed and his eyes scanned the surroundings. Something was going to happen, and he knew it, he knew something was wrong, or perhaps something was...out of place ; He heard it before he saw it : a carriage approaching you two, and fast, too fast and way too close. The man did not waste any time, he grabbed your waist and tried pulling you out of harm's way

“My lady watch out!” You barely registered Sebastian's words and touch before you heard a loud *CRASH!* and your consciousness was suddenly cut short

. . .

“...l...dy...m....” huh? is someone calling me? I can't see or feel anything... where am I? “my l...y” ...that voice? Is it...?? “ughhh...Sebastian?” “My lady! Are you feeling alright? Do you have any injuries?” “No, no I'm okay...where...are we though?”

“That I'm afraid I can't answer. Strangely enough, I myself lost consciousness and woke up moments before you. Though you probably feel, we're in a quite cramped place” “hm...”

Your hands came to feel around you, knocking on the walls that engulfed both you and Sebastian

“It's wood...where the hell are we? Moreover, can you get us out?” You felt him nod his head against your cheek “It shouldn't be a problem, but first, do I get your permission to try and listen to any sounds coming from outside?”

“You can” You felt him shift slightly so he could be in your place, his hands were tight on your waist and the only thing you could make out of his form were his glowing red eyes that, for the very first time in your life, you saw having a tint of uncertainty in them. You couldn't blame him, when you heard he also lost consciousness it was clear something weird was going on. If this was enough to give Sebastian a hard time, then you fucked up real bad. You felt him shift again :

“I can barely hear anything. I have no choice but to break it” “H-hold on now! What if there are people outside?!”

Your hand grabbed his arm in a tight grip and you heard him chuckle, low and amused

“Come now little lady — his hand came to rest on yours — when have you heard of me being outnumbered? Did you forget? I'm your butler. And if I'll let something bad happen to you then I'm not worth my salt at all” Your eyes narrowed, though you couldn't see, you practically felt his smug smile directed at you “ughh...fine! But don't be a brute! ...for now at least...” Sebastian laughed “As you wish, my lady”

You tried backing up against the wall behind you to shield yourself from the impact. You felt Sebastian's elbow right next to your cheek before a very loud smash, and the front of the cramped room fell on the floor

“What is this?!” Sebastian's voice rang through your ears before stepping next to him. The place before you was grand. A dark room with big windows, in the middle of it was a small fountain and on top of it rested a huge mirror, dark and empty. But the weirdest thing in this room was the floating coffins that were surrounding the walls and the many people wearing robes watching from the end of it.

“Coffins...Were we in a coffin just now?! What- hey! Where are we?!” Coming closer to Sebastian, his whole body shielded you to prevent any unexpected attacks. His eyes scanned the room, but outside the shiny windows, not one glimpse was familiar to him

“Already out of your coffins? My, you two must be some impatient gals” Standing before you, a black haired man with a bird-like mask was looking at you both with a curious yet neutral face, “Who the hell are you?!” Trying to get closer to the mysterious person, he took a step back while Sebastian grabbed your arm in an attempt to hold you back

“Calm yourself — his lips came close to your ears, whispering in a commanding tone — we can't take action until we know for sure where are we and who are these people” Looking at you trough narrowed eyes, Sebastian managed to make you stay put, and angrily sighing trough your nose, you took a step back.

“Forgive my lady's poor manners. If you don't mind answering, would you tell us where exactly we are? And why?” The man blinked twice, surprised by the butler's gentle and calm tone opposed to the one he used earlier but answered anyway : “Why? Well that's an easy answer! — his lips formed a giddy smile — You both are here because you were chosen!”

Tilting his head in confusion, Sebastian looked at the man signaling him to continue and satisfy the rest of his questions “You are at the very prestigious Arcane Academy Night Raven Collage! A collage where talented mages from all around come to learn and control their magic!”

The surprise on your face wasn't missed “... magic?? L-like the-the characters from books? Magic??” The masked man nodded eagerly “You're here because the dark mirror has recognized both of your talents for magic! Has a carriage not come to pick you up and transport you here?”

Sebastian's eyes widded for a slight moment before meeting yours, all of what happened suddenly making sense. You stepped from the spot behind him and tried to reason “But this doesn't make any sense! We can't be here! Not one of us...not one of us can use magic! We're just normal people!” “...But that's simply not possible!...”

Along with the masked voice, murmurs erupted from all around, clearly what you call 'normal' as in 'you have no magic' was considered anything but in this place. Sebastian's voice made its way over all the chatter “Could you please send us back? We need to go back home”

“Oh of course of course! — the masked man hurriedly came to guide you in front of the giant mirror — I don't know how the dark mirror could make such a mistake!”

He stopped in front of it and raised his hands against it “O Dark Mirror! Please guide these souls back to where they belong!” Silence. You and Sebastian looked into the dark mirror and then at each other. Moments passed and a face appeared into it, making you stumble back in surprise. The face looked at both of your expressions, then —

“Nowhere. There is nowhere where these souls belong. There's no place for the soul who is guided by hunger, the soul that has no purpose, the one who has not allegiance to life nor death, born by curse and bind by contract. There is no place for the soul that was once clean and now binds the mark of a darkness unknown, a soul that is slowly consumed by the emptiness surrounding it. There is no place where these souls shall return!”

Silence. Nowhere...? You opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out of it. The murmurs stopped, no one moved, yet before anyone said anything you still were the one to break the ice :

“W-wait a second now...this doesn't make any sense! If that place doesn't exist then how in the world could that carriage find us in the first place?!” “Then may I ask what place you come from exactly?”

“MYAHAHA HERE I COME!” Before you gave another try at reasoning, one of the grand windows broke, revealing a little creature who got inside. A gray fluffy creature, its eyes were blue, and accompanying the color of them was also the strong and bright blue flames coming out of its ears. The tail also having an odd form, a pitchfork, darker than the color of the gray fur and white tummy.

Before you could say anything else, you felt a hand on your shoulders, “London, we come from a place called London” The masked man put a finger on his chin, thinking “London...I've never heard of such a place”

“!?...”

“You two, are you perhaps lying to me?”

“No of course not! Why would we lie- ”

“I heard everything you said out there! And if they can't come to this school then I'll take their place instead!”

At the monster's words, laughter from all around was heard. Oh? Could he not do that? You felt a bit sorry for him“Q-quit laughing you! If that's how you'll act then so be it! I'll show you what I'm capable of!”

“How cute, he has a little bow attached to him” A light chuckle was heard from next to you, Sebastian's cheeks had a slight blush to them...ah, he's already lost...

“I am the great Grim! And I'm here to take a place at this school and become the greatest mage in the world!”

“H-hold on there! First you crash our ceremony then-” But the masked man didn't get to finish his sentence, for before he could say anything else, the little beast inhaled hard and let out a big wall of blue fire engulfing the whole room“Careful my lady!” Sebastian jumped back to a safer place holding you tight, but then suddenly your vision got blurry, the screams of the people rushing outside to escape the flames and Sebastian's figure were incomprehensive. Feeling your form getting heavier on his side, Sebastian took a glance at you, his reaction instantaneous

“My lady! What's wrong?!” But you barely heard those words. Black and white little spots filled your vision, and for a moment you couldn't hear anything. Then all of a sudden—

. . .

“GRAAAAAHHHHHH!!!” There was a roar, one so strong it shook the earth. Ruins were all around. The windows, all broken, the floor was all cracked, black and sticky ooze coming out of it, as if waiting for an opportunity to strike and corrupt you. The majesty that was once this room was gone, replaced by a dreadful sight, a wasteland with no way to save it. When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw were the flames. No corner of this room remained untouched by them, the one who did it had truly no pity. Looking closer, you saw them, a pair of eyes, that at first look seemed so full of anger, but you saw it, there deep in them, a sense of hesitance and fear. These eyes belonged to a beast, such a large beast that even if you'd tilt your head up you'd have no success in seeing all of it. He roared again and for a split second you saw something with the corner of your eye before you were blown back. People. People in black robes, the faces they bore could not be seen, as they were cloaked by a dark hood. And the robes... surrounded by all these ruins they remained untouched, brand new. You wonder if these people would be able to save it. They shout, something, but you couldn't make anything of it. You couldn't see them anymore, you couldn't see anything nor could you hear, no more shouting and no more roaring, only whispers, tiny ones : ... don't let go... don't let go...take it...take the hand...take it... don't let go...

Time was short, make it longer, save them, don't let go, take it... DO NOT LET GO OF THAT HAND!

. . .

“My lady! Can you hear me?” The first thing you heard was his voice, you blinked, once, twice, the third time was the first time you tried to escape, but a strong hold held you from moving

“My lady. Relax, it's me! I'm not trying to hurt you” Your rapid breathing didn't go unnoticed by your butler, and he was quick to help you calm down. Your senses slowly came back, and before you knew it, the fire disappeared, and in its place, the beast who once caused it stood on the floor, a beautiful and elegant heart shaped collar adorning his neck. In front of him stood a boy, his robe was untouched, as if he didn't walk through those flames at all. He pointed something that seemed like a pen at the beast :

“Interrupting our ceremony and then making a mess of the Mirror Chamber? Such a rule breaker has no place here!”

“My, my would you look at that? You could always count on Riddle-san to make a good show” “*yawn* Yeah, yeah I just want this to be over so I can take a nap”

“Really now, is that all you think about? How unbecoming of a housewarden” The voices you heard were muffled, still recovering from earlier, you barely could register the red haired boy coming closer to you. Sebastian's hand was steady on your side, straightening up, he looked the boy in the eye, waiting for him to see what he would do. He came and pointed his pen at the butler

“And you two! Getting out of your coffins earlier then disturbing the ceremony is unacceptable! I'll have your heads as punishment! OFF WITH—”

“Now now Mr. Rosehearts, let's calm ourselves” The masked man quickly came to put a reassuring hand on the boy “I will see to these two, so could you please go and handle our furry friend over there?”

The boy's lips turned into a pout and he frowned, clearly displeased, but obeyed anyway “Yes, headmage” And turning on his heels, he disappeared.

“Now that that's been taken care of. What shall we do with you?”

“Excuse my boldness, but may I perhaps ask if you are so kind to see us to a place where we can rest? My lady doesn't feel really well and she needs to sleep to get her energy back” Taken aback by Sebastian's request, the headmage blinked and smiled graciously

“Why yes of course! And I have the perfect place where you can stay! After all I am but so kind! Come along!” Before following the headmage's steps, Sebastian looked at you, “Can you walk?” You nodded tiredly and let the butler guide you after the man's steps

After a while of walking, all three of you were in front of an old and rusty gate, and behind the gate, rested a building that could be called a ruin with the state it was in “It has quite the... character” The masked man took Sebastian's words as a compliment and nodded eagerly “Isn't it? Come now let's get inside, I can feel the raindrops starting to fall”

By the time you got inside, you could hear the droplets of rain gently hitting the windows inside the lounge “Now I know it's not the prettiest building but it can shelter you from the rain and wind just fine”

Sebastian bowed in gratitude “It is more than enough, thank you”

Your eyes darted to the space around you, not failing to notice the moldy wall corners and the dusty old furniture that looked like it hasn't been used in centuries. And that damned laugh— wait...laugh? ...hehe...hehe...hehe... The sinister laugh sounded from all around before you noticed a light circling you, and before you knew it, it took a physical form

“Welcome to our castle!” and it disappeared

“Wha- huh??? What was that??”

“Ah yes I forgot to tell you : in this dorm some ghosts have taken residence”

“Some what now????” Looking above you at the ceiling, two more lights in addition to the first one circled around before taking the form of three ghosts in all shapes and forms

“Welcome welcome you two! We haven't had visitors in such a long time”

“We hope you'll make yourself at home”

The ghost started laughing and playing all about in hopes of spooking you, Sebastian, quickly realizing their plan, chuckled himself “Why thank you gentlemen. We do hope we won't bother you much with our presence”

The ghost's shenanigans came to a stop when they realized they couldn't shake Sebastian, so they tipped their hat and disappeared into the walls “Well now that those are gone, Sebastian! Get to clean—”

“Now hold on I'm not done talking”

“Aren't you?”

“While I do intend to let you stay here free of charge I won't allow one of you to slack off while I'll research a way to get you both home. You'll have to earn money for your food and clothes after all, no?”

“But how are we supposed to do that? Our belongings disappeared into thin air!”

“I'm sure there's something you can have us do — Sebastian's hands crossed on his chest — can't you think about something?” The man put a hand on his chin thinking, then, as if a lightbulb appeared on his head, his eyes lit up. He must've found a solution

“I have just the thing! How about you do odd jobs around the campus? For every thing you do I will pay you money! How does that sound?” Before you could give the rotten bird a piece of his mind Sebastian opened his mouth before you “That sounds perfect Mr...hm..., I don't think we got your name, did we?”

“Ah! Where are my manners! With all that was going on I completely forgot! I am the headmage of this school, my name is Dire Crowley. And you gentlemen are?” Before you could get a sound out, Sebastian pulled you closer and whispered into your ear : “I do not recommend you telling your real name my lady. We do not know anything about these people, saying your real name could cause problems”

You gave him a hesitant look before sighing “My name is...Yuu, the name's Yuu. And this is my personal butler, Sebastian. It's nice to meet you, headmage”

“The pleasure is all mine, Yuu, Sebastian! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have to go back to the mirror chamber, I'll see you tomorrow, I bid you two goodnight!” He waved you merrily and before you knew it you were left alone in the run-down building

Later that night, you and Sebastian ditched your jackets, leaving them on a chair, leaving him in his waist coat and shirt and you in your shirt only, while the pants were uncomfortable to sleep in, it was better than nothing.

“This was literally the last thing I needed! One second I walk on a crosswalk to my own home and the next I'm being transported into another world! How ridiculous!” Sebastian chuckled at your complaint while pouring tea in a new tea set found by the ghosts in the dorm's kitchen. He turned to you and handed you the cup

“Such negative thinking. Well, look at the bright side, at least this dorm is more organized than the apartment I found you in when you summoned me” You rolled your eyes at his smirk and drank the tea

After drinking it, you sat on the bed looking at the ceiling before your eyes darted at the butler, watching him cleaning the tea set

“I can feel you staring. Can't you sleep?” A slight blush coated your cheeks “...no” He chuckled at you before turning and coming to sit at the edge of the bed, his hand finding its way into your hair, petting it gently

“A grown woman and yet you still need me to do this in order for you to fall asleep. How troublesome” You scoffed and rolled over, his hand still petting you “Stay here until I fall asleep... it's an order”

“Well, if my lady wishes me to do so I shall comply” You concentrated on the feeling of him petting you, and the last thing you heard before falling asleep was him blowing out the candles

Sebastian looked down at you. What a soft expression you bare, you feel safe with him here don't you? Such a troublesome and dangerous decision you made now, it almost made him laugh out loud. You're so relaxed with him here, in an unknown world full of strangers and yet if it wasn't for that covenant you wore he won't think twice about taking your soul, your soul that shined so bright all for him. Yet he smiled, what was he to do with you? He will admit he was curious about the mysteries of this unknown world and perhaps he'll get something at the end of this too. He turned his head to the window, the moonlight illuminating his face through the drape gaps, eyes glowing red with satisfaction, he smiled,

He can't wait for tomorrow

© writingbluerose 2025

[httpuckdrop]

boyfriend? (part 2) – ws2

will doesn't only dislike other guys flirting with you – he gets jealous when they as much as ask about you, aswell.

pairing: will smith x friend!reader

genre: fluff, college!au

word count: 1.1k

warnings: none

requested: yes!! requests are always open <3

author's note: had so much fun writing this aaaa hope you enjoy reading it!! can be read as a stand-alone fic but it's better if you read part one first. have a lovely day 💗

read part one here!

will is going through a very uncanny type of déjà vu.

it wasn't more than two weeks ago that he was in this exact position; standing in the corner of someone's living room, a red solo cup in his hands, eyes stuck on you as you wander around, making friends with pretty much everyone. to be fair, your open nature and friendly soul are some of the things he likes the most about you – along with the fact that you make whoever you're talking to feel like they're the funniest and smartest and sweetest person you've ever met – but it's far better when he's the one you give all your attention to.

will doesn't mind not being the busiest bee at the party. he's okay with just staring at you from afar, occasionally indulging in a drinking challenge or a video game. but he can sense that something is about to shift even before it does – and suddenly, he realizes why. the guy you'd been chatting to up until now has just been replaced, and not just by anyone.

charlie is one of the defensemen on the eagles, a year ahead of will, a few inches taller and a few pounds stronger. they're not the closest of friends, but being teammates assures a certain type of bond, which might be why charlie came to will that time after practice last week.

"smitty, you know that friend of yours?" charlie had asked after arriving in the locker room. "the flirty, chatty one with the cute smile?"

will had known that he meant you instantly. he nodded, continuing to unlace his skates without even throwing his friend a glance.

"she's really hot. is she taken or can i...?" charlie asked, playfully bumping his shoulder with the younger's.

will took a deep breath, pulling his skates off his feet and placing them in his stall. "nah, she's interested in some dude in one of her classes." it wasn't true, so he didn't even know why he said it. but one little white lie couldn't hurt, right?

"really?" charlie frowned.

"yeah, sorry dude." will finally turned to the teammate. "she won't stop talking about him, they're pretty much a couple by now." and with that, the older just shook his head, stomping off with a mumble about how this was just his luck.

so now, seeing charlie next to you, will's eyes following the way he rests his hand on the small of your back as you lean in to talk to him... it definitely makes will feel a little nauseous. the one thing he hates more than seeing you get hit on is seeing you get hit on by someone who shouldn't be hitting on you.

an image flashes through his mind; you, sitting in the crowded grandstands as he's skating around on the ice, with an eagles jersey thrown over your body – but with charlie's surname on your back. and then, when the team goes out to celebrate after the big win, he's got you on his arm, leaning in to whisper in your ear and-

the idea is so oddly repulsing that will finds himself moving along to the kitchen to grab himself a new drink.

even when occupying himself with talking to gabe and ryan, he isn't able to completely shut you out of his mind. the friends, knowing will far too well after many years together, can easily tell that something is bothering him – assuming that it's girl problems, and assuming that girl is you – and feel a need to do something about it. they're just about to pull him out to the backyard when suddenly, a hand lands on his arm.

"can i steal him away for a second, boys?" you ask ryan and gabe with a smile before tilting your head up to will.

"he's all yours," ryan answers, chuckling as you drag will away.

he has no idea what your plan is, but he happily obliges – he will always follow along if you're the one leading him. once you reach the empty hallway leading toward the bathroom, you stop and release the grip you have on his arm. "so..." you slant your head, blinking up at him. "why did you tell charlie that i have a boyfriend?"

will's breath hitches in his throat. "i didn't. did he say i did?"

"maybe not in exactly those words," you counter, crossing your arms over your chest. "but something along the lines. did he lie?"

will doesn't answer. he doesn't know how to get out of this scot-free. he hates lying to you – not that he's sure if he's ever even been able to – so instead, he settles for remaining quiet.

"is it because you like me, smitty?"

he has to actively stop his jaw from dropping. the way the words just dropped from your mouth so casually, like they weren't flipping his world upside down, makes him speechless.

with him just staring at you, you place a hand on his shoulder, stepping the slightest bit closer. "if you do, then you should tell me," you hum, the alcohol in your system giving you that last bit of confidence you need. "and if you don't, then i'll just go away and we can pretend-"

but will doesn't want you to walk away. he doesn't want to keep pretending like he isn't in love with you, like he doesn't want you in his arms and in his room and your hands in his. he's got tunnel vision by now, and the only option he sees is grabbing your waist and pulling you flush against him. so that's exactly what he does.

you don't know who leans in first – it's probably the same gravitational pull affecting both of you – but it feels like this moment is exactly what you were made for. when your lips meet, will suddenly feels a ton lighter, all and any previous doubts and insecurities gone in a flash. your hand finds his chest, feeling his fluttering heartbeat beneath his shirt, and you can't help but smile against him.

"finally," you whisper once you part, but a confused frown stretches across will's features. you shake your head. "two weeks ago, you didn't want to kiss me."

"that's not true," he replied, watching you cock an eyebrow at him. "of course i wanted to. but i wasn't actually your boyfriend, but…"

"but now?"

will snickers, hands giving your sides a gentle squeeze. "now, i'd like to think that things have changed."

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Whispering Woods

Pairing: Hiccup 'Horrendous’ Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1k

Summary: When the world gets too much for you, you have the tendency to 'run' away sometimes. This time you and your dragon don't get the peace and quiet that comes with it for too long as it seems you have an admirer waiting to make their presence known.

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo with the square 'Hand Kisses'

(Y/N): Your name

(D/N): Dragon's name

(D/S): Dragon species

(W/C): Weapon of choice

*Gif does not belong to me

It wasn't unusual for you to take a break from Berk every once in a while. Hopping on (D/N)'s back and flying off without a word to anyone else on the island. You knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do, not when Drago Bloodyfist or whatever Hiccup had called him recently attempted to take control of all of Berk's dragons, but you couldn't help yourself. There was nothing better the disappearing for a few hours with nothing but the wind in your hair, your (D/S) under you and the quietness that came with it.

The only repercussions for disappearing that you've ever gotten were some annoyed friends or a worried Hiccup, which you could say was one of the worse options since he tended to fret when you returned. Though anything was better than a mad Hiccup when you accidentally disappeared for three days and came back to half of Bekr looking for you since Hiccup had gotten worried enough to start a search party.

That's how you found yourself where you were now, surrounded by the quietness of a forest on some random island not too far away from Berk. The flight over had only taken twenty minutes as you and (D/N) took your time flying there.

(D/N) had slunk off not too long ago, making her own way through the forest as she explored, leaving you to your thoughts as you trailed after her, not trying very hard to keep up.

Berk had been hectic recently. Hiccup found his mum, Berk was attacked, you almost lost (D/N), and Stoick died... It was a lot to happen in the span of a few days, closer to a few hours if you don't count Hiccup's extended absence.

This island had seen worse for wear but there was still a lot of work that had to be done. Which you should be doing now but too many people were asking too much of you. You had also been avoiding meeting Hiccup's mum as the two of you had spared only a few words to one another when in the heat of battle.

It was a lot to think of all at once, so you found yourself off the island quicker than the Twins could say boar pit.

Being out here was doing wonders for your mind; calming you down and making it easier to think of nothing at all. It was all you could hope for, even if you knew you would have to head back soon unless you wanted Hiccup to deem this as another one of your escape attempts.

It was only when the forest got quieter than normal did you felt the need to come back to your senses, an actual need to be alert instead of walking around aimlessly as if you were on autopilot.

The soft thumping of (D/N)'s feet from ahead had stopped, along with the birds hidden in trees. The only noise that passed through was the rustling of leaves as a steady breeze glided through the woods. Your hand was itching down to grasp onto the small blade you had strapped to your belt, your (W/C) left on the saddle that (D/N) had run off with.

Before you had the chance to do anything though, a set of hands were slipping around your waist, tugging you back and into someone's chest softly. Years of Viking training were already kicking in as you raised an elbow, ready to dig it back with a low aim when someone caught onto your arm, stopping it in its motion.

"Hey," You struggled to get out, still trying to land a hit on the person behind you and push yourself away, attempting anything that would set you free.

"Calm down," A familiar voice laughed out, surprising you into stillness as your brain realised who it was. At your sudden stop, you were whirled around by the person who had disturbed you, being met with a bright smile and a deep set of green eyes as they bore into you. "I was wondering when you'd notice it was me."

"Hiccup," You deadpan, watching as the taller boy slowly pulled you closer, setting one of his hands on your waist without the hassle of a fight from you trying to dislodge it.

"(Y/N)," He copied, raising one of your hands with his free ones and bringing it up to his face, setting a soft brush of his lips on the back of it in the form of an extended greeting. You watched the motion with warm eyes, the annoyance that had crept up your spine dying down a bit.

"How long have you been here?" You questioned once your fingers got interlocked with his, not going to deny the soft touches as the both of your hands were brought down.

"Not long," Hiccup commented. Standing in front of you, Hiccup seemed like he didn't have a care in the world, reminding you of what you had left behind on Berk and how Hiccup himself could bring this feeling out of you. "Toothless saw you and (D/N) fly off not long ago and wanted to bring me to you so that he could play with them."

"Mm," You hummed, bringing your linked hands back up. For a short moment where your hands stayed hovering in the air, your lashes fluttering at Hiccup, you took him in, the small smile on your face expressing more words than you wanted to at the moment. Laying a kiss on the back of his hand, you murmur, "We better go find them then and make sure they don't get into too much trouble."

[tyrantisterror]

A Flight of Dragons, I Command It! A FLIGHT! OF! DRAGONS!

doom DOOM DOOM

Hey fuckers, it's February and my Seasonal Affective Disorder is at its fucking PEAK, so it's gonna get REAL weird around here for a while. Luckily, my old ass has spent the last thirty-some years figuring out how to deal with this particular recurring problem, and one of the many tools and tricks I've learned is an age old classic:

I gotta treat myself.

So, ok, I work at a daycare, and one of the things that's very popular with the kids these days are 3-D printed dragons. They're inexpensive, customizable, and pretty easy to transport and store, so it's no wonder kids like them. But, you know, I'm something of a child at heart myself, and I love dragons, so when I saw my kids bringing all these 3-D printed dragons to the center... well, I got a bit envious. And, well... when you're an adult with disposable income... there's no one STOPPING you from buying a 3-D printed dragon for yourself.

Or two.

Or three.

Or... lots. Lots and lots. Because you're an adult and they don't cost much money and you've always loved having swarms/herds/big families of creatures ever since you were a kid, and because it was January when this idea struck you and looking at the estimated time of arrival on etsy for these things you realized most of them would arrive by February, when you might NEED the serotonin provided by having a big ol' flight of dragons.

So let's go on a journey, fuckers. A journey of excess, a journey into imagination, a journey through the marvelous world of people with 3-D printers making a quick buck on etsy. Let's look at some fucking dragons.

I'm going to go ahead and link the store pages for each dragon I purchased, in case you too are deranged and need some dragons in your life, and because I want to give some form of credit to the artists who made these. Granted, that won't always be possible - while a few of these seemed to be unique to the shops I bought them from, many of them could be found from NUMEROUS sellers, which makes it difficult if not impossible to figure out who originally programmed the project files for them to be 3-D printed from.

Case in point is The Crystal Dragon here, which can be found in SO MANY etsy stores. Most of the 3-D printed dragons my students at the daycare had were of this variety, in fact, so it seems to be a very popular pattern for 3-D printing. It's definitely a cute and pretty little thing, and sort of sets the standard bar for a 3-D printed dragon. I wish the face was a bit more detailed, but the rough, angular nature of it does help convey the idea that this thing is made of crystals.

The second most common design, as far as I can tell anyway, is this Chinese Dragon/Loong (oh hey, they used my favorite English spelling!). I really like the face of this guy, and it seems like an excellent rendition of the standard East Asian dragon design - there's even tiny holes under its nostrils where you could insert a wire or thread to serve as its barbells, though most sellers (including the one I bought from) don't make use of it.

While most of the dragons I bought are "realistic," there were some cartoony/more stylized ones for sale that I decided to partake in. This little guy is one such dragon, and I think he's probably the best one to get if you're buying for a kid - the smoother body and smaller, nubbier horns makes it less likely to break, and just a bit more fun to play with in your hands. These things are often marketed as fidgets, after all, so the tactile feel of them is something to take into account.

While on the surface just a variation of the fidgets we've seen so far, this dragon has one particularly clever feat of engineering: because of the way the spikes on its neck are set up, you can get its head in a nice "snake rearing up to strike" position, which, combined with its distinctive short-snouted face, goes a long way to giving it an extra bit of character among the 3-D printed dragons.

While most of the dragons I found seemed to have the same simple color options to choose from, a few sellers seemed to have their own custom ones that were unique to their shop. This mix of bronze and olive greens was unique to this particular dragon, which, along with its painted eyes, really helps its stand out! I will note that the joints of this dragon tend to stick a bit more than my other dragons - perhaps a result of using different plastic colors than is standard? - but if you let gravity do its work they'll sort themselves out, and it's worth it to have such a striking little fellow.

Since this particular style of toy really suits serpentine creatures better than all else, I decided to look for some explicitly marine dragons to add to the group. I really like this sea serpent I found, which comes is very basic crayola-ish plain colors, but has just enough personality in its sculpt (and eyes and teeth in different colors) to stand out.

If you're looking for sea dragons on etsy, though, you're much more likely to encounter this fellow, which almost every store selling it calls Jormungandr and/or the Midgard Serpent. It's got these vaguely Nordic runes carved into it, as well as grooves in its tail designed to fit its prominent fangs so it can make an ouroboros, which makes the Jormungandr connection feel pretty intentional. It's a really distinct design, but I do think it's a little funny that it's far from the beefiest of my dragons. I wonder if there's a shop that sells an upsized model...

While not notable in terms of engineering, paint work, or plastic color options, this dragon IS notable in having heads based on a statue of Quetzalcoatl, who is in turn one of my favorite mythological figures, so I had to get it.

Of course, I also wanted a Quetzalcoatl-style feathered serpent that had the classic "winged snake" look, and this one fit the bill well enough. It originally came with little hair clips attached to its underside, allowing it to cling to your head and/or clothes, which I thought was really clever... but I also didn't like the clips sticking out from under the little thing so I took them off. A lovely little dragon either way, though.

So, ok, I'd been going relatively cheap at this point, but as I shopped I was struck with a sort of passing fancy, an idle thought... what was the most elaborate, fanciest 3-D printed dragon I could get? It's not this one, mind you, but this was very much the start of that rabbit hole. While mechanically it's not significantly different than the dragons we've seen till now, the amount of colors it's printed in immediately make it stand out as a higher quality dragon.

The same store that sold the dragon above also sold this fellow, which may well be my favorite of the many East Asian dragons I found on this little quest. Just look at that wonderfully monstrous face! And he's got a pearl, the little devil!

While the color of the plastic and the engineering of this sea dragon may not seem particularly notable, what has to be taken into account here is the sheer SIZE of this lass. This is one of the biggest dragons of my lot, not only in length but in sheer girth and weight of its joints. The Midgar Serpent needs to move over, this is the REAL leviathan of my 3-D printed dragon collection.

Of course, if you know me, you know I'm a basic bitch who loves the European "four legs and two wings" style of dragon the most of all, so my search for fancy 3-D printed dragons started to focus on finding some that fit this description. I can't actually find the store page for this guy anymore (it's not in my past purchases on etsy for some reason), but it's a pretty solid low budget take on the concept. But we can do better - and we will...

But first, a detour to some wyverns! This little guy is really cute, with a head based on the Peter Jackson Herbit movie's design for Smaug, and a feathery little body that makes it looks like a fantastical archeopteryx.

The same shop makes a more reptile-ish dragon, with leathery wings and scaly skin, which I got in a larger size because, well, you know my preferences. It's like the perfect size to perch on your shoulder, though I'd want something to hold it in place because I'm pretty sure falling off from that height onto a hardwood floor would be the end of it.

There's no shop link for this one or the next because it was a freebie - which is to say I didn't actually order this dragon, but found it in one of my packages as a free gift from the seller. That's the nice thing about shopping on places like etsy and ebay - sometimes the people on the other side of the screen are really solid and decide to give you an extra little treat. This is clearly a Games of Throne-style wyvern specifically, based on the proportions and the shape of the head, and that's pretty cool. The dragons are one of the only things that made it out of that show still looking cool.

The second freebie dragons I got were these little toys of Toothless and Girl Toothless from How to Train Your Dragon. Look at them, they're so cute!

But now... now it's time for the answer to the question:

What

Is the most Deluxe 3-D Printed Dragon

I can get?

The Bronze Medal goes to this marvelous dragon here, which feels like it flew right off of some medieval coat of arms and into my own flesh and blood ones. It's solid, beautifully sculpted, and full of articulation points. However, the method in which it's articulated makes it a bit frustrating to pose, as some of these joints end up bending and twisting in ways you don't want them too. Still an excellent dragon, mind you, but outdone by the next two...

The Silver Medal goes to this marvelous wyvern, which has much tighter joints that are a lot less frustrating to pose. Its wings are a mixture of cloth and plastic, allowing them to flex and bend into a variety of poses (though admittedly the weight of the wings keeps them from holding most of those poses very well). Also, look at that regal face, that sleek sculpt, and those elegant proportions! It's almost a perfect dragon for me. Almost.

My one and only gripe with the previous dragon is that, well, I'm a basic bitch who likes dragons with four legs and two wings the best! And what do you know, they made one of those too! And god, does this dragon look magnificent in person, sporting all of the elegance of the dragon above but with magnificent grasping hands! HANDS! Hands that you'll have to be careful with because the joints are a little loose and like to pop off when you play with them, but still, HANDS!

This is a high enough point to end off on, but there's one more 3-D printed gift I'd like to cover here. My favorite one.

Well, ones I guess. This all started with my students, and well, some of them noted my interest in the 3-D printed dragons they were bringing to school. And a couple of them actually ended up getting 3-D printers of their own (well, their parents' own, ayway) and decided to print off a dragon and a crocodile for me - smaller than all the other dragons here (except the Toothless keycains), but no less dear for it. I guess one of the pros about taking an active interest in the things your students like and letting them gush about it is that they might give you a 3-D printed dragon or crocodile out of the kindness in their little hearts.

[blooberrries]

『consequential』 — satoru

— pairing: satoru x afab!reader — wc: 5k — content: mdni, nsfw; vampire au, college/university au, jealous/possessive satoru, blood drinking, vampire bites (chest, neck and arm), alcohol, mutual pining (a distant relative of idiots to lovers), piv sex, love bites (heh literally), standing/sex against the wall (he holds you up the entire time because he's actually insane), unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming,he's a bit of a simp really idk if that was planned — notes: got possessed by the Horny Spirit, also not proofread. enjoy? also be gentle with me I haven't written smut in over a year

prompt: ["Oh, don't be cute."] + [“you’re all mine” - “hm…” - “say it” - “i’m all yours”]

While slightly spiteful, your plan had been simple and had about a 50/50 chance of succeeding, with minimal loss to you if it didn’t.

Two weeks ago Gojo Satoru had— after months of asking for it and being denied by you— finally gotten your permission to drink your blood. So he’d gone ahead and bitten you, you’d loved it and probably fell even more annoyingly head over heels for him as a result of the oddly erotic experience, and the way he had acted during the whole ordeal gave you a decent indication that he most definitely felt the same way you did.

You’d expected things to finally change between you after that, hell you’d actually been excited for it.

But instead of leaning into the shift in the dynamic between you, Satoru had instead decided to pretend you didn’t exist and proceeded to completely avoid you for the last two weeks.

(Which is actually quite the feat considering how much overlap there is between your friend groups. But you’re not impressed. You’re mad.)

To say you were upset would be an understatement. Your pride was wounded along with your ego, and you felt foolish and embarrassed and stupidly angsty. The unfortunate reality is that you’re not very good at processing those feelings, so in your time of need you turned to your most faithful, long-time friend: spite.

You know for a fact that Satoru likes the way you smell and taste– it’s one of the many things he’d let slip when sucking the blood ever so gently from the puncture he’d made in the soft flesh of your inner forearm. So you decided to wait until the prime part of your cycle, where the supernatural consensus said humans smelt their best, and you’d procured a tincture from your witch-in-training friend that would accentuate the natural appeal of your blood for certain creatures of the night (she’d assured you it was safe, but you have your own means of defending yourself anyway so you aren’t too worried.)

Then, you’d waltzed your way into a party that was being held at his shared accommodation and made it a point to have fun. The real goal of your plan, besides sticking it to him in the most subtle-not-subtle way ever, was also just to feel better about yourself. Your expectations being upended regarding how you’d hoped things would develop with Satoru had been a big blow and would take some TLC from yours truly to recover from.

You’ve had fun so far, you’re only a drink or so in and pleasantly buzzed, and you’re getting a lot of compliments on your perfume. You can’t exactly tell them you’re not wearing anything but eau de spite, but it does feel nice nonetheless. Each comment is like a balm to your poor, chafed ego. The only wrench in the works is that as expected, not long after you arrived, Satoru noticed you.

And then proceeded to continue in his efforts to avoid and ignore you. He’d disappeared into the throng of people on the other side of the house before you could even blink.

It takes a strongly mixed cocktail, courtesy of Shoko who you’re not sure isn’t trying to kill you with the alcohol content of these drinks, for you to settle your fuming. This is stupid— no, he’s stupid. Stupid sexy vampire with his stupid pretty eyes and stupid pretty face. How dare he let you make a fool of yourself by thinking there could be anything more between you! You never should have let him bite you. At least then things would still be the same and you wouldn’t be so torn between throttling him and kissing him.

Angrily, you take a hearty gulp of your drink. Despite the superficial fruity flavour it burns on the way down, unsurprisingly, and you have to breathe slowly through your nose so it doesn’t come back up. You’re no longer uncertain; you’re confident this cocktail is an attempt on your life.

It’s as you’re nursing that drink and leaning angstily against a wall in the corner of the room, that you sense someone approach you. Your eyes take a moment to adjust as you look up, surprise filtering through you once you register the figure by your side.

“Hey.”

Your brows shoot up, a small grin tugging your lips. “Oh? Long time no see, Mei Mei. What cave have you crawled out of to be here tonight?”

The snow-haired woman rolls her eyes, lips twitching. Her tongue darts to swipe over the tip of a pointed canine.

“Oh, you know, every homebody has to come out to play every once in a while.” Her nose twitches, and she leans forward slightly to inhale. Her eyes flutter wide in pleasant surprise. “Well, don’t you smell absolutely divine tonight. Special occasion?”

Kind of, but you’re not about to tell her that. Mei Mei can be a decent enough acquaintance so long as you keep her at arm’s length.

“I’m trying something new,” you answer simply. She hums, and when her body angles towards you again ever so slightly you become aware of the most odd, prickly sensation. It tickles the hairs at the back of your neck, and you fight the peculiar urge to turn and look around. All you’d see is dancing bodies and stumbling drunks, anyway.

“It suits,” Mei Mei purrs with a smile that makes you a little nervous. Music throbs against your body so strongly that for a moment you’re not sure whether the beat you’re feeling in your chest belongs to your heart or the song. “Though you ought to be careful going on campus smelling like that. You’ll lure in every bloodsucker in a five-mile radius.”

You suppose that means the tincture is doing its job. The way her eyes are appraising your pulse points keeps you feeling nervous, though. Perhaps… it wasn’t the best idea to make yourself smell so scrumptious after all. There are more than a few loose canons in the area.

It’s a little too late for regrets now, though. At this point you just gotta double down and own the decision.

“Noted,” you say, taking a hearty sip of your death-in-a-cup. The burn is now a pleasant distraction. You smile at Mei Mei and feel that prickly, hot feeling increase tenfold. What is that?!

The sensation has your heart rate elevating slightly, and it must make the aroma of your blood a little stronger because the vampire before you lets out a soft groan, her eyes fluttering shut. Almost like it’s instinct, she takes a step closer and leans her head towards the crook of your neck. Your startle is almost imperceptible, and you’re thankful that the top you opted for is one that saved the neck exposure for a well-placed boob window instead. The fabric covering half the expanse of your throat is probably the only reason you don’t freak out at her actions.

Her nose brushes your skin, dragging up the column of your throat until it flirts with the bottom of your earlobe. Your heart skips a beat before tumbling into a full gallop. It’s different to how it felt with Satoru— you don’t like this nearly as much. Your legs tense with the urge to leave.

“Really,” she says, purring your name. “You’ve got me feeling quite peckish. Won’t you let me have a little sn–“

A grip winds around your wrist like a vice, not painful but certainly unforgiving. Startled, you look up and see the person of the hour, the vampire you went to all this effort to torment in the hopes he would want you again. Wow, it doesn’t sound great when you think of it like that. The alcohol is certainly not helping your self-esteem right now.

Satoru’s pretty baby-blues are dark, pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen before, and his entire body is riddled with tension. He almost looks like the slightest pressure would have him snapping in half. His jaw is locked tightly, and he hisses through clenched teeth and descended fangs.

“Come with me. Now.”

You don’t get the chance to bid Mei Mei farewell, not that you really want to, and the last thing you see as you’re dragged out of the room is her waving a manicured hand your way, mouthing a playful ‘goodbye’. She looks far too amused for your comfort.

Right now, Satoru is nothing like the cheeky, carefree, shit-stirring bastard you’ve come to know and love. That isn’t to say you’re completely opposed to it, because the way he looks like know is a pretty big turn-on. But still – the difference is startling. You’re not sure how to navigate the situation.

Before you know it you’ve been unceremoniously relocated to his bedroom, and he is pressing you against the door the second it closes behind you with a heavy, loud THUD.

For a moment, the only sound that fills the space is that of the music beyond the wooden barrier. The bass is no longer indistinguishable with your heart beat – the stuttering rhythm that echoes against your rib cage is all you.

Satoru inhales deeply as though to calm himself down, only to let out a long, low groan immediately after. The sound affects you more than it probably should, heat winding pleasantly up your spine.

“What was that?” He demands, brows snapping together. It takes you a moment to realise that he’s most likely referring to Mei Mei being horny on main just before. His massive frame boxes you in against the door in such a way that you’re almost embarrassed by how much it makes your tummy flutter.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you breathe, chin tilted up as you hold his gaze. Something feral flickers through his expression.

“Oh, don’t be cute.” The words snap into the air, causing your breath to hitch. Satoru’s eyes flick to your forearm, where the slightest bruise still remains from the last time you were in close quarters like this. He swallows, piercing gaze returning to your own.

“I told you.” Satoru’s words leave in a snarl, his fingers firm against the flesh of your hips. His own body is so close to yours that you can feel the heat of it, the tingle of electricity that arcs between you. “That I would be able to smell it if another vampire so much as breathed near you. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you getting chummy with one in my own home?”

You can easily recall him saying that to you almost a fortnight ago, when he had been commenting that he could tell you hadn’t been bitten before thanks to his sharp senses and all that. You didn’t think he was lying. You are surprised that he cares, though. Something like indignation bubbles beneath your lungs, because how dare the bastard spout that shit when he just spent the last two weeks since your ‘encounter’ pretending you didn’t exist.

“Not sure why you give a shit,” you retort, squashing down a whine that begins to rise in your throat when his hips begin to press into yours. “Seemed like you were done with me after you finally got that taste you wanted so bad.”

His brows scrunch together, appearing confused for a second amongst the agitation on his features. You decide to fill the gap in the conversation on his behalf.

“I really was just a Sip ‘n’ Dip to you, huh,” you scoff, letting your head fall back against the door. His eyes snap to the column of your throat, more of which is now exposed. “At least now I know the only thing you want from me is my blood. Really saved me some grief there, Satoru.”

“Excuse me?”

When your eyes slide back to his face, he looks like you’ve physically struck him. His fingers dig into your hips almost out of habit, just shy of being painful. Anger still bubbles beneath your sternum, and you glare at him.

“By the way, as far as I’m aware, biting me once doesn’t give you any exclusive rights to my blood, so where the hell do you get off getting so shitty because someone else took a whiff–“

Satoru snaps.

“I don’t just want your blood,” he snarls, lips curling away from pin-prick sharp fangs. He has the nerve to look insulted. “I want you, you stupidly oblivious pain in my ass. All of you.”

He then leans in, erasing any foreign scents lingering on you and replacing it with something of his own, whatever pheromone bullshit vampires do. You’re too busy trying to stop your heart from having palpitations to focus on it too much because what the fuck did he just say—

“Do you have any idea how close I am to losing myself to a frenzy, like a fucking fledgling?!” His lips brush over the pulse point at your neck, and then teeth, razor-sharp and full of promise, drag over the skin of your clavicle, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You shiver, flushing with heat and desire. The threat of another bite is already enough to have your body reacting in memory of how the last one felt. You want him, god you want him so, so badly.

“I haven’t fed since then because I can’t get the taste of you out of my head, and I can’t stomach anything else. I can’t stop thinking about the noises you made when I sank my teeth into you, and the scent of absolute desire that filled the entire fucking room the second the venom kicked in for you.” Satoru’s words are punctuated by a prick just below your collarbone, the brief sting eliciting a gasp. Warmth begins to trickle thinly from the site and is quickly staunched by a press of his tongue, and he moans. You’re so painfully aroused that it nearly makes you dizzy. He groans, long and suffering. “Just like now.”

He moves lower and lower, hauling you off the floor and completely into his hold so his mouth can reach your chest without stooping. Suddenly in the air, you can’t help the way you yelp and wrap your legs tightly around his hips – which, in turn, presses the heat of your core against the very prominent bulge there. You both echo a groan.

“Coward,” you manage to pant, out of sheer spite if nothing else. “Stupid idiot. I clearly want you. I literally could not have been any more obvious, you’re so –“

His teeth sink into the exposed top of your breast, retracting once they puncture deep enough to get a good flow. Then, he latches firmly onto the flesh, sucking it into his mouth. The act startles a moan out of you, the venom from the initial bite already transmuting the pain into heady pleasure and sending heat through your veins, all while kicking your heart into an even faster beat. Perhaps one of the best perks of the venom is that after that first dose settles in, the only part of the process left for you to feel is pleasure.

Even while you’re unable to help the way your hips roll into his own, and unable to ignore the feral, sinful moans vibrating against your chest as he suckles the wound he made and drinks from you, you manage to continue insulting him.

“You’re so stupid, why the hell did you avoid me for two weeks huh?” A moan breaks up your complaint as he swipes his tongue in broad movements over the bite, his hips snapping into yours and pressing you further into the door. The wood creaks, but neither of you pay it any mind. You can barely function around the incredible sensation of his cock grinding against you through layers of clothing. “All you did was send mixed messages and piss me off and, ngh fuck–“

He pulls back enough that you can see the flush in his face, the feral gleam in his eyes and the smear of blood over swollen lips. His brows are furrowed, but he’s too besotted by the taste of you to have as much heat behind his glare as he did previously.

“There are some things you can’t take back,” he grits out, tongue coming to clean the red from his lips. Your heart stutters, pulse thudding in your ears. “Especially for my kind. If I didn’t stay away, I probably would have ended up doing one of those things.”

Your core positively throbs with need, clenching around nothing. The extent to which you want him right now has you more irritable than usual. “Satoru, I wouldn’t have let you drink from me if I wasn’t interested in everything else it would entail—“

“You don’t understand,” Satoru groans, freeing a hand to rip at the material of your shirt. Clawed fingertips slice through with ease, taking out the bra straps underneath as well. He makes quick work of the band beneath your chest and the underwear is then torn from your form and thrown somewhere in the background. The material of your top remains, and he yanks it down below your aching breasts, watching with rapt attention as they bounce free heavily. Barely allowing you time to moan, he lifts you higher in his arms and dives down to drag his teeth over the swollen globes. He nips and nibbles across the sensitive skin, eliciting all sorts of sounds from you and an unbearable amount of desire that shoots straight between your legs. You can feel slick arousal trickling from your aching cunt with each new miniscule bite Satoru delivers, but honestly at this point you’re too horny to be embarrassed.

“I already want everything you can give me, and more.” He bites the inside of your breast and the flesh gives easily beneath the razor-sharp point of his fangs. One of his hands comes to grip the other side of your chest while he laps and sucks at the blood welling in the wound. Your nipples are painfully hard and you feel like you could cry in relief when his long, nimble fingers begin to deliver them some much-needed attention. “I want every single part of you and I don’t want to share. This is the way I am built. I can’t do this with you again and let you go afterwards. I want you to be mine.”

You probably shouldn’t find that as romantic as you do, but aren’t really in a position to psycho-analyse your response right now. It’s not all that surprising, either, since you recall someone mentioning to you before how strongly vampires bond with their partner when they finally make their choice. As it happens, his confession serves to not only make your heart soar but your pussy throb. You’ve been pining for this man for years, so even amongst the haze of lust clouding your mind you don’t have to think about how to respond to it.

This is, after all, the solution you were hoping for two weeks ago.

“I don’t want you to let me go, or take anything back. Please bite me again, mark me up–” You pause to gasp, Satoru having shoved your skirt up to bunch around your hips. Your panties are gone a split-second later, likely discarded in the same manner as your bra, and the hand that was at your breast is now trailing your slit and gathering all the slick that has pooled there. His middle finger dips in, causing a stutter in your breath. You lean forward to whisper in his ear, snowy strands of hair tickling your cheeks as you do so. “And please, please fuck me, Satoru.”

Something snaps in him, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

A feral snarl escapes him, a gravelly “fuck” the only warning you get before his teeth sink down just above your nipple, fangs retracting once blood wells to the surface, and he pulls both the wound and your stiffened peak into his mouth, sucking hard. There isn’t a single ounce of pain, only the white-hot pleasure that shoots to your clit and has you keening as a result, hands scrabbling for purchase along his broad shoulders. That free hand that was at your slit has made quick work of his pants and is now guiding his scalding member to slap against your clit, and then press against your entrance while you recover from the shock of pleasure.

You expected him to be well-endowed, and you’re not at all disappointed. Satoru’s cock is fat and long, and with one roll of his hips it spears right into you. There is no resistance, you’re far too aroused and wet for there to be any, but the feeling of being split open by such a monster quite literally knocks the breath out of you. You hardly recognise the noise that escapes you as one of your own, hands gripping the vampire’s hair and shoulder so tightly you’d be worried about hurting him if he was human. He isn’t, though, and without even noticing your grip continues drinking from you while latched to your breast, tongue pressing and rolling your aching nipple all the while.

A second is all you get to adjust to the foreign length inside you before Satoru rolls his hips back with a moan, the fat head of his cock dragging against your walls as he does so, and then slams it back in. He builds a rhythm immediately that is almost animalistic in its desperation and fervour, each thrust firm and hitting so deep inside that you honest to god think it has you seeing stars. Whines and moans tumble from your mouth, no longer able to be held back when the only thing your brain can comprehend is the sheer pleasure and ecstasy that burns and sparks along your limbs. He begins to hit a certain spot when he fucks up into your heat that has you clenching around him, slick gushing forth.

“FUCK.” He rips away from your chest to tilt his head back in a rough, stilted moan, his hands gripping and digging into the meat of your thighs where they melt into your ass. In the absence of his mouth, blood begins to dribble down the swell of your breast. His crystalline eyes are hazy and blown out in lust, brows drawn together and expression twisted in pleasure, his breath coming in pants. He is visibly barely holding it together, completely drunk on the taste and feel of you– and it simultaneously is the hottest and sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. “Yes, fuck, squeeze me just like that.”

You oblige, relishing in the full-body shiver that tears through him in response. He bites your name out amidst a tortured groan, hands shifting to your hips. His mouth returns to clean up the mess he left on your breast, lips latching around your nipple to suck and pull once more, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the way he suddenly begins to lift you by the hips and drop you back down on his cock in time with his thrusts. Almost. You have to bite back a scream at how fucking good it feels, the pressure and pace and just how full you feel. You can feel yourself rapidly beginning to come undone.

With the combination of his venom’s aphrodisiac effects and the sheer amount of time you’ve spent longing for this, you don’t imagine you’re going to last much longer. If the unforgiving pace of Satoru’s hips is anything to go by, you estimate the same to be the case for him.

He groans into your chest, releasing your breast to bounce in time with his thrusts, the action accompanied by an almost audible pop, and shifts his hold to free a hand. The pressure of two fingers against your clit has you crying out, body jerking at the sudden rush of pleasure – your head whips down to find him already looking at you, gaze swinging from the juncture of your thighs to your eyes. Evidently pleased by the expression he finds on your face, he continues his circling of your clit and leans his head down to trail kisses from your already-healing chest, up the column of your throat, across the line of your jaw, until he finally arrives at your lips.

“Mine,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours in a feather-light caress. His baby-blue eyes are lidded heavily and almost dazed, coherent thought lost to the throes of pleasure and his most simple instincts. He nicks your lip at the same time as he angles a particularly wonderful thrust, the head of his cock hitting against that spot that makes you see stars and release a loud, wanton cry. “You’re all mine.”

You pull back to nod rapidly, unable to form words when all you can think – all you can feel – is the throbbing pleasure of his cock splitting you open with each heavy thrust. His head follows, lips seeking your own once more. The kiss is hot, and needy, and his oversized canines scrape your bottom lip more than once, and yet all you can do is return the fervour in between moans and whines. His hand is still at work between your legs, and you feel in your bones that you’re really not going to last much longer at this rate.

Satoru releases your mouth with a final nip, and moves his head to nestle it in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He groans, low and long, and the vibration turns to a shiver as it travels over your skin. His lips begin to move.

“Say it.”

You struggle to think let alone figure out what he wants, lost in the current of your rapidly approaching orgasm. His fingers pick up speed, aided by the generous amount of arousal still gushing from your pussy in between thrusts. It takes everything you have not to scream, your hips bucking.

“Say it,” he says again, an oddly uncertain note infiltrating his rumbling gasp. He utters your name while nosing at your throat and you feel yourself melt. “Please, say it.”

Realisation as to what he is looking for hits you at the same time as your orgasm. “Fuck! I’m– I’m yours, all yours! God, fuck—“

Satoru’s pace stutters, undone by your pussy clenching and throbbing around him in a fight to keep him inside, and it takes him a moment to recover before he begins to fuck into you again in earnest, movements growing sloppy and frantic but no less punishing. It all serves to prolong the wave of absolute bliss you’re riding in the wake of what has to be the strongest orgasm of your life. Those vampiric toxins are no joke.

You wind your arms around his neck, clutching him close and trying not to lose your mind as he fucks up into you, the drag of his cock against your walls somehow even more delicious than before. He mouths at your neck, hips beginning to stutter once more. You clench around him, and he breaks. There is barely enough time for a curse to escape his mouth before its clamping on your neck, teeth digging in deep— deeper than he’s ever bitten you before— and tingling heat spreading out from the puncture sites. He gives one, two, three final, dragging thrusts, body trembling and muscles taut, before his cock throbs and he buries it inside you, spilling into you with a deep, rumbling groan against your throat.

Soft, panting moans escape you as his hips continue to roll into you softly, riding out his orgasm, and you bite back a wanton groan as you feel his cum beginning to trickle out around his softening member. As soon as he comes back to his senses to a degree, he has the presence of mind to navigate the two of you to the bed before he loses strength in his legs, his mouth slipping from your neck after he laves his tongue over the wound to seal it. Unceremoniously, he drops the two of you against the mattress, but surprisingly keeps you snugly in his hold and his length still buried inside you. Ignoring how hot that is, you decide to view the action from a purely romantic light and nearly melt into the mattress.

Vaguely, you register the thumping club beats still booming beyond the confines of the room. Evidently the party was still ongoing.

“This wasn’t how I planned for today to go,” he admits, after a few beats of contented silence. He nuzzles his face to your chest, dragging his nose across your collarbone. “I was going to talk to you tomorrow morning.”

You snort; that’s likely.

“… This is how I planned for today to go, though.”

He huffs a laugh before pressing his lips together, clearly trying not to enable you further. He allows for another few moments to pass, and in that time you let your own eyes flutter closed.

“You can’t change your mind, by the way,” he says suddenly, tone odd. You open your eyes and turn to see his crystalline gaze directed to your neck, where the latest of his bite marks sits proudly. “I may have done one of those things I can’t take back.”

You’re not sure how to tell him it’s not as bad of a thing as he thinks it to be.

likes and reblogs are appreciated <3 lmk what you think!

[r3ita-g4zette]

Why The Hell Ain't Dinner Ready?

Leland Coyle x GN! reader

WARNINGS: Dubcon, rough sex, degrading, aggression.

Great. Here it was, 5:30 in the afternoon on a summer evening in Blackwell, Oklahoma, just barely finishing chopping the carrots for the stew. Damn, Leland gets off work soon and dinner ain't even ready for him? Almost comically, the front door slams shut, the familiar sound of heavy boots being kicked off, thumping against the wall beside the door and under the small coffee table. You’ve been married for a couple months to Leland, a respected man due to his charisma and being one of the better cops in this goddamned town.

Sure, Leland wasn’t the sweetest man, but he had his moments. At the beginning, that was. You were just 19, so maybe you had those naive expectations when it came to marriage. At the beginning, Leland would show you off when you’d go to the bar, he’d dance with you to those good ol’ country tunes, and even the sex was amazing. Now it's always late nights at the bar with his buddies, or paperwork, or a bad day at work... Today was a particularly bad day. 

Leland’s gaze turned towards the dining room and into the kitchen. He slapped his police cap onto the table, "How come my dinner ain't ready yet?" He snaps, scowling at you a couple feet away. Nowadays, all you ever see is that scowl on his face, and those Aviators. Why doesn’t he ever take those damn things off?

"You try'na starve me, huh? How many times've I said dinner oughta be ready by the time I walk through that goddamn door?" He reprimands, grabbing his hat and using it to gesture at you. Talking to such a man with an irritated tone gives way to more issues, so instead, your voice is a tender coo, like a gentle siren’s song. “Leland, honey–” “Don't you hun me, goddammit!” He snaps in retaliation, yanking his aviators off and shoving them into his pocket. 

"Don't you dare gimme that damn, sappy, oh, honey-" He mocks by doing a pitchy impression of your voice, one that's far more exaggerated than it actually is. 

"You know goddamn well I had a rough day. The station was a shithole." He exclaimed, stepping closer to you as he used his cap to continue gesturing.

"I.. didn't know you had such a bad day." you soft murmured, your tone much quieter than before. "It's got'a nother 30 minutes, alright.. sweetie?" 

"30 minutes. You expect me to stand here for another goddamn half hour?" Leland retorts, stepping over to the counter, his gaze shifting down to the food being cooked. "You think I got all the time in the damn world, don't you? Don't think I got better things to do other than wait for you to put my food on the table like I ain't got a whole day's work ahead of me tomorrow, huh?" He grabs a bottle of beer from the table. He always keeps a few stashed away.

He pinched the bridge of his nose before grabbing your arm and pushing you against the side of the counter. “I ought’a teach you a damn lesson.” He grumbled, his hand pushing your head down onto the counter as he fumbled with his belt.

He pulled off your undergarments with ease, giving your ass an aggressive slap. An instinctive yelp escaped your lips, Leland let out a gruff laugh, grabbing your ass and squeezing it roughly. "Yeah, that's what I thought, darlin’." 

He keeps you pinned against the counter with a handful of your hair in his hand, grinding his hips against your ass. He takes a swig from his beer, his cock semi-hard in his jeans as he lets out a satisfied groan. "You'd do good to keep that attitude in check. You don't wanna see what happens if you get too bitchy with me."

Leland’s cock brushed against your now red ass from that one slap. “Aah.. hnng.. Leland, honey..” you whimpered, your hips trembling in both shock and anticipation.

"Don't you honey me, darling. You've been acting like some kind'a brat lately.” Leland grumbled as he grabbed a cigarette and lit it almost instantly, something he’d perfected over his years of stress. His cock rubbed against your ass, threatening to push into you, “That ain't a good thing. You've gone n' forgot who's in charge around here.” he angrily grumbled.

He lowers his head and spits on his hard-on, “Ah.. hhn.. Sweetie-” you breathily moaned, though once his cock pushed into you, another yelp escaped you. He pushed into you instantly, filling you up completely.

“Aah- ah- fuck.. Nngh.. Leland–” you shakily stammered, your hips shuddering as he gripped them with one hand, rocking against you as your whines filled the room. “Mm.. fuck, Sugar.. I love those little noises you let out.. Soundin’ like some kinda whore.” Leland chuckled gruffly.

The way Leland’s hard-on slid in and out of you roughly felt so good, even if you hadn’t expected this 5 minutes ago. His hand gripped your hair aggressively, his grunts audible from behind you as the sound of skin on skin and your moans filled the room. 

“Fuck, feels like yer’ gonna snap my dick off, you’re so tight..” he grumbled, his brows furrowed as he felt your wet hole clench around him tighter, more groans escaping him. “Nngh.. Leland- honey– Haa.. i'm gonna cum- ah-!” You whined, your body tensing as that familiar bliss fell over you.

His grip on you didn’t loosen, if anything, it tightened. Leland’s breathing got more labored, leaning over you as his cock pummeled deeper and deeper before a warm liquid spurted into you, his head burying into your back as he panted. 

His movements stilled, his breathing labored before he spoke. “Next time.. Dinner ought’a be ready when I get home. You hear?” he angrily grumbled. He reluctantly pulled himself out of you before stepping back, his chest still rising and falling as you whimpered against the counter. Your head turned towards your husband before a sheepish smile painted your face.

You weren’t sure if you should make dinner on time or wait just a while again the next time..

wc; 1.02k

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Las Vegas GP part 2

Masterlist

Trigger Warning- described SA, negative thoughts, and emotional themes in this chapter!!!!.

The brief nap in my driver’s room hadn’t been nearly long enough, but the sudden sound of my radio crackled to life, pulling me from the edge of a light sleep. "Y/N, you’ve got about 30 minutes to be ready, just a heads-up," Landon’s voice came through, his tone as routine as ever. It was a reminder I’d grown accustomed to over the years. Like clockwork, his words were the perfect alarm, shaking off the remnants of my exhaustion.

I rubbed my face and sighed, already feeling the weight of the day settle back into place. I’d been doing this long enough to know how to get into the zone, no matter how badly I wanted to just disappear from it all. The car, the track, the noise—it was all there waiting, and I had to show up.

As I walked into the garage, I took a deep breath. I was lucky this time—no sign of Henry. Just the usual buzz of the crew making adjustments, testing things, and prepping for the session. I quickly got into my gear, the familiar motions grounding me as I pulled on my balaclava and secured my radio. My hands worked efficiently, almost mechanically as I slipped the helmet on, shutting out the outside world and slipping into my routine. These few moments—just me and the car—were the only times I could fully collect myself.

Even though I could feel the usual buzz of nerves beneath my skin, there was a small spark of fear that lingered, too. The memory of the crash, even now, was like an echo. It didn’t matter how many laps I completed—it would always come back when I sat in the car, the sensation of spinning, the weightlessness, the uncertainty of it all. But I couldn’t dwell on it. I wouldn’t.

Before I knew it, I was on the track for Q1. My focus sharpened as the lights went out, and I pushed myself to hit every corner with precision, all the while keeping the car balanced despite the lingering worry. The team’s encouragement over the radio helped keep me grounded, and I made it through to Q2 with ease, the first hurdle cleared.

Q2 was a different story. The pressure mounted, and as always, the track began to feel more unforgiving. I pushed too hard in a few places, but I managed to find my rhythm just in time to secure a spot in Q3. It felt like a small victory in itself, and my confidence grew as I moved on.

When Q3 came around, everything clicked into place. I found my groove, the rhythm of the car syncing with the beat of my focus. The lap felt smooth, controlled, and when I crossed the line, I could hear the cheers erupting from my team. I had done it—I’d taken pole position.

The realization hit me just as I rolled back into the garage, my pulse quickening with the excitement of the moment. My team surrounded me, clapping me on the back and celebrating with cheers and high-fives. I allowed myself a brief smile, feeling the weight of the tension ease off, but I knew the real challenge was still ahead. The race was yet to come.

But for now, I allowed myself to enjoy the victory—at least for a moment. I was on pole, and the fans were cheering, and that felt like a much-needed reminder that, despite everything, I was still capable of greatness.

I pulled my bag over my shoulder and made my way to the door of my driver’s room, hoping to get out of the paddock before things got any more complicated. The adrenaline from qualifying still lingered, but I was more focused on the fact that I needed to step away from the chaos. The last thing I wanted right now was another run-in with Henry.

But as soon as I stepped outside the motorhome, I felt a familiar weight press in on me. Henry.

He stood just outside the doors, leaning against the wall, looking far too comfortable in his stance. As soon as he saw me, he straightened up with a grin that made my stomach turn.

"Y/N," he greeted me, his voice thick and unnervingly cheerful. "That was an impressive performance today. Really impressive."

I forced myself to nod, keeping my expression neutral as I tried to make my way past him. "Thanks, Henry. I’ve got a few things to take care of, so if you could just—"

Before I could finish my sentence, he reached out and grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

"Just a moment," he slurred slightly, the scent of alcohol on his breath almost overpowering. I grimaced inwardly, recognizing the signs. He was tipsy—maybe drunk—and his usual uncomfortably forward behavior seemed even worse now.

I yanked my arm back, keeping my voice steady despite the dread that bloomed in my chest. "Henry, I really don’t have time for this right now." I took a small step back, hoping to put some distance between us.

But he didn’t let me.

He took a stumbling step closer, this time placing his hand on my waist. His fingers brushed too close to my ribs, and I felt the sting of panic rise in my chest. I tensed, trying to push his hand away gently. "Henry, please. I’m just trying to leave."

His smirk never faltered, even as I stepped back again. He was getting too close, his body language predatory. "Come on, Y/N, just a little fun, right?" His tone was low, almost coaxing, but there was a sinister edge to it.

I was almost panicking, but I kept my voice as professional as I could muster. "This is completely inappropriate. I need to go." I stepped backward again, but he just followed, his steps unsteady.

The last thing I needed was for anyone to notice this. A confrontation with Henry would be a PR disaster, especially after such a strong qualifying performance. I tried to hold it together, tried to stay calm, but his presence was suffocating.

"Henry, stop," I said firmly, taking another step back. I could feel my heart pounding, but I didn’t want him to see that he was scaring me. I was determined to keep control of the situation.

He laughed, but there was nothing lighthearted about it. "You’re no fun, Y/N." His hand lingered on my arm again, his grip tightening.

I pushed him away, finally managing to break free from his grasp. "I need to go." My voice was sharp now, and I could feel the cold sweat starting to gather.

As I hurried away, my thoughts were scrambled, but I didn’t get very far before I heard a familiar voice.

"Y/N, everything alright?"

I spun around, startled, and saw George approaching, his usual relaxed smile on his face. But his eyes quickly shifted to Henry, a smug look plastered on his face even with the slight stumble in his step. George’s gaze hardened, and I felt a momentary surge of relief. “Of course she is, I was just trying to convince her to join the team tonight for dinner.” Henry slurred.

"She’s actually all booked up for tonight," George said smoothly, stepping in front of me as if he was suddenly in full protective mode. "Got dinner plans with me and a few other drivers. Nice place just down the road, so she’s got no time for anything else."

Henry seemed to hesitate for a moment, likely processing the fact that George was clearly taking the lead now. He shot me a last, lingering irritated look, but after a few moments, he reluctantly stepped back.

"Alright then," Henry muttered, waving a dismissive hand as he walked off. "Have a good night."

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, grateful for George's quick thinking. "Thanks," I said, my voice shaky but sincere. "I owe you one."

George gave me a light shrug, not even a hint of hesitation in his smile. "Anytime. And seriously, if you need another savior with a good excuse, shoot me a text, and I'll come running."

I chuckled softly, feeling a little lighter. "I’ll keep that in mind."

As we walked together toward the parking lot, I felt the knot in my stomach loosen slightly, knowing I had someone watching out for me, someone who didn’t pry and ask questions but just had my back like this. 

I staggered into the hotel room, the weight of the day pressing down on me. The ache from the crash had only intensified, the bruises spreading across my ribcage in ugly, darkening patches. I sighed as I stripped out of my clothes, wincing at the soreness in every movement. My arms and legs were covered in smaller bruises too, scattered like an art piece made of pain.

I stood in front of the mirror for a moment, taking in the damage, my reflection a stark reminder of the crash. I couldn’t help but feel a small wave of frustration—this wasn’t just physical. It was the emotional toll, too, the constant fear and the weight of it all that felt just as heavy.

After a long pause, I finally grabbed the melatonin bottle from the nightstand. I knew I needed sleep, desperately, but my mind had been running a marathon. I wasn’t sure if the pills would help at this point, but it was worth a shot. I popped a couple in my mouth and sat back on the bed, sinking into the soft sheets.

As the medication slowly kicked in, I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my body. The exhaustion from the crash and the emotional rollercoaster of the day finally started to take over. My mind started to drift, and despite the discomfort, I let sleep pull me under, hoping for a few hours of peace.

Sitting in the car on the grid, the roar of the engine humming beneath me, I could feel the weight of the moment. The sun was beating down on me, but all I could focus on was the track ahead, the challenge ahead. This was another 'home' race for me, and I was determined to prove myself once again. I had to—this was my shot at securing a contract for next season. I couldn’t afford to let anything slip. I was ready to show everyone what I was capable of.

The lights went out, and my heart raced. I shot off the line, keeping my position for the first few laps. I held my ground, resisting the pressure from behind, until it was time for the pit stop. I made my way into the pits early, knowing it could be a gamble, but one I was willing to take. I didn’t lose too much time, but when I re-entered the track, I had dropped positions.

I didn’t panic. I pushed forward, finding my rhythm lap after lap, battling through the pack. The car felt great as I sliced through the traffic, my focus narrowing in on each car ahead. Eventually, I found myself locked in a battle with Lewis, who was holding P2. It wasn’t easy, but I was determined. I found a small gap, a tiny window of opportunity, and I took it. With a sharp move, I passed him, and I was in P2.

But George was up ahead, and he wasn’t going to make it easy. We exchanged positions a few times over the course of the next laps, both pushing our limits, both hungry for that top spot. I could feel the strain, but I didn’t back down. Each time he edged ahead, I fought back. With the final lap approaching, I knew this was my last chance.

On the last straight, the adrenaline surged, and I found that final burst of speed. I passed him. I didn’t let up. The finish line came into view, and with every ounce of strength I had left, I held my ground, crossing it just a few tenths ahead of George.

The radio crackled to life. Landon’s voice was full of excitement, the usual professionalism in his tone replaced by a genuine thrill. “You did it! You really did it! P1!”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, a mixture of relief and triumph flooding my chest. I had done it. Another victory. Another race where I proved my skill. Wow. It felt so relieving to continue to prove my worth here again. 

The post-race routine felt like a blur, but as I made my way to the podium, the overwhelming sense of accomplishment started to hit me. The cheers from the crowd, the familiar faces of the team, and the weight of the trophy in my hands—it all felt so surreal.

Lewis had his hand outstretched, helping me step up to the top spot. I offered him a grateful smile. “Thanks, mate,” I said, trying to ignore the lingering ache in my body. My ribs, my arms, the soreness was still there, but I wasn’t going to let it show. Not now. Not on the podium.

As I stood there, my smile widening, the cheers from the crowd growing louder, the pain in my side made itself known. Raising the trophy, I grimaced for a second, the sharp sting reminding me of everything I had been through to get here. But I pushed through it. I couldn’t let anyone see me falter—not now, not when I had earned this moment. The crowd cheered even louder, and I forced myself to keep the smile plastered on my face as I held the trophy high, despite the discomfort.

Then, the familiar sound of my national anthem filled the air, and for a moment, I let myself just enjoy the sweet feeling of victory. It was just me, the podium, and the sound of my anthem echoing around the track. It was everything I had dreamed of.

But as soon as the anthem ended, the real fun began. I popped the champagne, the cork flying into the air, my focus now fully on spraying it at my team. They had worked so hard to get this car back in shape, and they deserved the celebration. The moment was perfect—until the Mercedes drivers, in their usual cheeky style, immediately aimed their own bottles of champagne at me.

I barely had time to react before they blasted me with champagne, the cold liquid soaking me through, temporarily blinding me. I laughed despite myself, the spray catching me off guard, but I quickly recovered and turned my own bottle toward them, retaliating with a spray of my own. The cheers and laughter from the crowd only amplified the moment, and for a second, I forgot about the pain, the struggles, and everything else.

It was just me, my team, and the victory that tasted all the sweeter with a little champagne in my hair.

Of course, that could never truly last long for me…

As I was in the middle of changing, the last thing I expected was the door to burst open with Henry stumbling through. The smell of alcohol hit me almost immediately, and I instinctively pulled my shirt down, trying to cover myself as quickly as possible. His eyes lingered a moment too long, and his slurred words fell from his lips with a sickening smirk.

"Come on, you know you can't escape me forever. You’ve been so... good to me, haven’t you?" he slurred, his steps uneven as he took a step closer.

I immediately reached for my phone, my heart racing, hoping to hide it. I wasn’t foolish enough to trust Henry, but I had the camera running in the back of my mind. My hand brushed the corner of the desk, knocking it slightly, but the lens was already facing the interaction. It wouldn’t be enough for him to know, but I was painfully aware of every second of the moment.

"Stop. This isn’t funny, Henry," I said, trying to remain as calm as possible. My hands were shaking, but I refused to show him any weakness. "Please, leave."

But he didn’t move. He took another step forward, and I felt the room constrict around me. His voice dropped lower, his proximity too much. "You know, it’s just a matter of time before you’ll stop resisting," he said, eyes gleaming with that sickening confidence.

I took a deep breath, my mind screaming at me to stay in control. I couldn’t afford for this to escalate any further. I reached for the door behind me, knowing I had to get away from him before it turned worse. “I’ll make sure this gets reported,” I said, my voice low but firm.

It was then that he hesitated, but his smirk only deepened as he brushed off my words. "Report it all you want, darling. It’ll just be your word against mine. No one will believe you," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

My stomach churned at the thought, but I couldn’t let him see that. I couldn’t let him see me falter. I straightened my back, pushing all the anger and fear deep down, refusing to let him get to me. I had to get away from him.

“Get out of my way, Henry,” I said through gritted teeth, trying to keep my voice steady as I moved past him, aiming for the door.

But before I could get far, he reached out, his hand shooting out to grab my wrist. His grip was tight, too tight, and my heart skipped a beat. The panic threatened to rise up again, but I forced it down, clenching my jaw.

"You’re not going anywhere," he said, his voice low and almost predatory as he leaned in closer. “You really think you can just run away from this? No one cares about your little stories.”

I pulled my wrist hard, trying to break free, but he held on, his fingers digging in. The walls of the room seemed to close in around me as I realized I was trapped.

“Let go,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, my breath hitching as I fought to stay calm. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled me closer, forcing me into the corner of the room.

I froze for a moment, the fight draining out of me as I realized I had nowhere to go. My mind raced, looking for an escape. My pulse thudded in my ears, my body fighting the panic, trying to keep it all together.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he said, voice laced with an unsettling calmness.

I had to think. I had to get out of this. But as he stepped closer, the knot in my stomach grew tighter, and I knew that the situation was slipping further out of my control.

"Come on, sweetheart," he slurred, his breath reeking. "Time to celebrate properly."

My heart raced, I could only hope my camera was still capturing us. "Henry, you need to leave now," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. 

He was now pinning me against the wall by the waist. My stomach churned as his hands roamed, rough and demanding. I struggled, pushing against his chest, but he was so much stronger.

"Stop!" I yelled, hoping someone, anyone, would hear. "Help!"

His hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my cries. Panic surged through me, my body trembling with the primal need to escape. I thrashed wildly, my elbow connecting with his ribs, but it only seemed to anger him further.

The slap came out of nowhere, a sharp crack that sent my head spinning. For a moment, everything went quiet. I sagged in his grip, my cheek burning, mind reeling in disbelief. This can't be happening. Not here. Not now.

Henry's weight pressed against me, his hips grinding as he mumbled vulgar promises. I felt numb, disconnected, as if watching this nightmare unfold from outside my own body. The gleaming Aston Martin logo on his shirt swam in my vision, a cruel reminder of how far I'd come, only to end up here.

But then, a flicker of hope. Henry stepped back, fumbling with his belt buckle. In that instant, survival instinct kicked in like a surge of adrenaline on the final lap.

I shoved him with every ounce of strength I had left. Caught off-guard and unsteady, Henry toppled backwards, crashing into a table of warm up gear. I snatched my bag, my fingers closing around the camera, and bolted for the door.

The hallway stretched before me like the longest straightaway I'd ever faced. Tears blurred my vision as I ran, my racing suit a blur of green and silver. Behind me, I could hear Henry's angry shouts, but they faded with each pounding step.

I didn't stop running until I hit what felt like a brick wall after rounding a corner. I stumbled back slightly only to stiffen up again when two hands grabbed my biceps to hold me steady. Before I could react and push these hands away from me, I saw Oscar's worried face fill my vision. He slowly scanned my frame, most likely seeing how disheveled and frightened I was. It wouldn’t take a genius to know what I had just gone through. 

Oscar's jacket wrapped around me before I even knew what was happening, his jacket covering me like a shield from prying eyes. I was still trembling, my heart racing as I registered the events that had just occurred. I couldn't even look him in the eyes; I felt completely exposed, broken, and desperate to get away from everything.

"Y/n," he murmured softly, his voice low and gentle, "we need to get you out of here. Stay close to me, alright? Don't let anyone see you."

I nodded, trying to steady my breath, feeling the warmth of his jacket press against me, grounding me, even if only slightly. Oscar led me through the back hallways, ducking and weaving between corners, until we finally reached the McLaren motorhome. He opened the door to the driver’s room with a quick glance to make sure no one was around, and once inside, he closed it behind him.

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze not meeting mine as he set my things down and walked over to his phone. He didn’t ask me what happened—I think he knew I wasn’t ready to say it aloud yet.

When he returned, he knelt in front of me, his face filled with concern. "I’ll text the others," he said, "You just rest for now. I'll make sure no one disturbs you."

I was still trying to gather myself, to calm the storm that was roaring inside me, but I felt a small flicker of relief. Oscar was here. He was helping, keeping me safe, and giving me space. I needed this—someone who wouldn’t push, someone who just understood without the need for words.

As he began typing a message to the others, I let out a shaky breath, trying to hold myself together long enough to make it through this moment.

The silence between us stretched on as Oscar typed away at his phone, probably texting the others in the group chat, but I couldn’t focus on that. Every breath felt like it was getting harder, the weight of everything pressing down on me until I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

I broke.

The tears came first—hot and overwhelming, rushing down my face as I tried to stifle the sobs that wracked my body. My hands shook as I pulled them up to cover my face, but it did nothing to stop the storm. It felt like everything I had been holding in for weeks, months even, all came pouring out in one uncontrollable wave. The fear, the anxiety, the pain, the dread—it was all spilling over, and I couldn’t stop it.

Oscar was there in an instant, his arms around me, pulling me close. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to fix me, just let me crumble against him, as if he understood that this was something I needed to feel before I could move forward. I buried my face in his chest, the fabric of his jacket dampening with my tears. His steady breathing, his soft murmurs of reassurance—“It’s okay, you’re safe. I’ve got you”—grounded me slightly, but I couldn’t stop shaking.

I don’t know how much time passed before I started to calm down, but the tight knot in my chest was still there. My tears were slowing, but the ache in my body was still raw. Oscar was still holding me, gently running his hand through my hair, whispering words of comfort that barely registered, but they were enough.

Then, slowly, I started to hear voices—footsteps, first, then murmurs of concern and urgency. One by one, the other drivers started arriving, slipping quietly into the room. Lando was the first to reach us, his face serious, but he didn’t say anything at first—just wrapped me in a hug and whispered, “We’re here, Y/n. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Charles was next, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and anger, his usually calm demeanor replaced with something darker. “If anyone messes with you again,” he muttered, “they’ll have to answer to me.”

Carlos and George followed shortly after, their expressions equally grim, but their presence was comforting, steadying. They didn’t need to say anything, they just sat with me, giving me the space I needed to process.

But as comforting as their presence was, the feeling of helplessness didn’t fade. I felt exposed, like I was drowning in everything that had happened, everything I had kept bottled up. How was I going to fix this? How could I go back to my team, knowing what had been happening behind the scenes? How could I trust anyone again?

And then there was the other part—the part of me that wanted to fight back, to stand up for myself, but every time I thought about it, I was overwhelmed with fear. Henry had made it clear that no one would believe me. The thought of dragging the team into this, the media storm that would follow—it was too much.

Oscar, sensing my turmoil, pulled back slightly, his hand resting gently on my shoulder. “We’ll handle this,” he said firmly, his voice quiet but resolute. “We won’t let him get away with it. We’re all behind you.”

It was then that the door to the driver’s room opened, and a new set of voices filled the space. Fernando and Max walked in, both of them with a fire in their eyes.

“We’re heading straight to Aston Martin hospitality,” Fernando declared, his tone brokering no argument. “They need to know what’s been going on. This has gone on long enough.”

Max nodded in agreement, his jaw clenched tightly. “We’re not leaving until they understand this needs to be dealt with. No one should be treated like this—especially not you.”

I felt a mix of gratitude and dread wash over me. It was comforting to know that they were willing to go to bat for me, but at the same time, the thought of confronting my team, especially with Henry involved, filled me with anxiety.

Oscar looked at me, his expression softening. “Do you want us to do this?” he asked, giving me the option to speak up. “We can do it without you, if you need some time.”

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Please. I can’t—” I broke off, not able to finish the sentence. “Just…” My hands were trembling as I reached into my bag, pulling out the small camera I’d kept hidden away.

The moment I held it in my hands, my mind immediately flashed to all the times I had secretly recorded Henry’s behavior. His advances, his inappropriate comments, his threats. It was the only way I knew I could protect myself, but even now, the thought of exposing it all made me feel like I was about to collapse under the pressure.

I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to confront this, to bring everything to light. But I knew that I had no choice. If I was ever going to get out from under this, I had to show them the truth. So, with a deep breath, I took the SD card from the camera and handed it to Fernando.

“This,” I started, my voice shaky but firm, “is everything. The recordings, the videos...everything he’s done to me since sometime before the Mexican GP.”

Fernando’s eyes flicked between the SD card and me, his expression unreadable for a moment. He didn’t need to ask any questions—he understood immediately what it was. Without a word, he carefully took the card, and I could see the resolve in his eyes harden.

“Thank you for trusting us with this,” he said softly. “We’ll make sure it’s handled properly. You won’t be seeing that rat again.”

The rest of the drivers were silent, their gazes all focused on the small piece of evidence I had given them. For a moment, I felt exposed, but also relieved. The truth was finally out there. They had it. They would know what had been happening, and they would help me make sure it stopped.

Fernando stood up, holding the SD card firmly in his hand. He gave me one last reassuring look before turning to the others.

“Let’s go,” he said. “It’s time to end this.”

Fernando and Max didn’t waste any time, their faces determined as they marched out of the room and made their way to the Aston Martin hospitality. The rest of the drivers stayed with me, their presence an anchor I desperately needed, but part of me couldn’t shake the anxiety that was building up inside me.

The confrontation was coming. I just hoped I was strong enough to face it.

As the weight of the moment started to settle, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of relief, but also exhaustion. It had been a long, hard road, and now that everything was out in the open, the true weight of it all was beginning to hit me.

Oscar and the others hadn’t left me to sit in silence for long. They gathered around me, their faces soft with sympathy and determination.

“You’ve been carrying this by yourself for far too long,” Lewis said, his voice low but firm. “You shouldn’t have had to fight alone, Y/N. We’re your family, your grid family. We’ve got your back, every single step of the way.”

Lando nodded in agreement. “None of us should have to go through what you’ve been through. But you don’t have to do this alone anymore. We’re here for you.”

I blinked back the fresh wave of tears that threatened to fall. I didn’t want to break down again, not when I had come so far, but hearing their words, the honesty and love in their voices—it was almost too much to bear.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely above a rasp. “I—I didn’t want to drag anyone into it. I just didn’t know how to ask for help without risking Henry finding out.”

“You don’t have to ask, Y/N,” George said, his hand resting on my shoulder. “We love you. You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself. It’s our turn to help you now.”

There was a brief pause, and then Carlos, always the one to lighten the mood, gave me a smirk. “We’re all ready to destroy Henry for what he’s done... trust me, we’ve got some very creative ideas on how we’d love to pay him back.”

“I’d love to knock his teeth out, if I’m being honest,” Lewis added with a grin, earning a laugh from everyone in the room.

“Not gonna lie, the thought of seeing him suffer is pretty appealing right now,” Lando chimed in, his tone playful but also tinged with genuine anger at what had happened.

The lighthearted teasing was exactly what I needed. It helped push back the dark cloud of panic and uncertainty, if only for a moment. But just as I was starting to feel like I could breathe again, the door opened.

Liam stepped in first, his eyes scanning the room before landing on me. His expression was full of anger, there was an unmistakable fire in his gaze.

“So, who’s this bastard?” he asked, his fists already clenched at his sides, ready to go.

I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his eagerness. “I—don’t know his full name, but... I only know him as Henry.”

Liam’s jaw tightened as he stepped forward, his gaze never leaving me. “I swear to God, if he’s hurt you, Y/N, I’m going to make sure he regrets it.”

Before I could respond, Franco walked in, his calm demeanor providing a stark contrast to Liam’s intensity. His eyes softened when he saw me, and he immediately crossed the room, sitting next to me. His presence, steady and reassuring, made me feel a little safer, a little more grounded.

“Hey,” Franco said gently, placing a hand on my arm. “You okay?”

I nodded, though my heart still ached. Franco gave me a small smile, then turned to the others. “We need to get Y/N out of here and back to the hotel. She’s been through enough today.”

Liam hesitated for a moment, the fire in his eyes slowly dimming as he saw my exhausted expression. He let out a sigh and rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, okay. We’ll deal with Henry later. Right now, she needs to rest.”

Franco stood up and gently helped me to my feet, his arm around my shoulders in a comforting hold.

“We’ll take care of everything, Y/N. You don’t have to worry about a thing,” he said softly. “You’ve done enough. Now it’s time for us to take care of you.”

As we made our way to the door, I looked around at all the faces of my teammates and friends—drivers who had become my family in a way I never thought possible.

I had been so afraid of facing this on my own, so terrified of how it would all play out. But now, with them all here, I knew I wasn’t alone anymore.

And for the first time in a long time, I actually felt like I could breathe.

When we arrived back at the hotel, the overwhelming weight of everything that had happened today started to crash over me again. I felt like I was walking in a haze, numb and sore, and the room seemed to close in around me. The only thing that kept me grounded was knowing Franco and Liam were with me, even if they had their own way of handling things.

Looking nervously at them, I pulled out as much confidence as I could. “Would you two stay over with me tonight?” They both nodded, franco with a small adorning smile while Liam smirked. 

"I’ll be back in a bit," Franco said gently, looking at me with concern as he motioned towards his room. "I’m just going to grab a few things—some comfy clothes, you know, the sleepover essentials. I won’t be long."

Liam shot me a soft grin, his arms crossed casually as he leaned against the doorframe. "And of course I’ll be back, even if you hadn’t asked. No way I’m letting you sleep alone after all that’s happened. I’m sticking by you."

I gave him a tired smile. "Thanks, Liam. I—I really appreciate it."

With a nod, Franco disappeared, and I was left alone to gather my thoughts. The silence in the room felt suffocating. I could already feel the dull ache of everything that had happened creeping back, twisting in my chest, and settling into the pit of my stomach.

I couldn’t help but replay the events in my mind—the panic, the feeling of being trapped, the helplessness. I stepped into the bathroom, determined to wash away the residue of the day. The shower was my only sanctuary now. The hot water, the steam, it all blurred everything else out. I scrubbed at my skin with a fierceness that bordered on desperation, as if I could erase Henry's touch, erase the pain that had etched itself into my body and mind.

My skin turned raw from the scrubbing, the pinkness standing out starkly against the dark bruises that had settled on my ribs and limbs. But in a twisted way, it almost helped. It distracted me from the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. As if hurting myself physically could somehow numb the emotional pain.

Eventually, I stepped out of the shower, wrapped myself in a soft towel, and began to change. The feeling of the fresh clothes against my skin didn’t help; I still felt the remnants of everything that had happened. But I took a deep breath, forcing my mind to focus on the present. Focus on the here and now.

When I opened the door, I saw Franco and Liam standing there with small bags of their own. Franco was holding a few snacks, and Liam had a box of takeout food.

"You good?" Liam asked gently, his voice softer, the angry edge finally gone.

I nodded, even though I didn’t feel good. "Yeah, just... needed a moment."

Franco placed the bags on the bed and gave me a reassuring smile. "I grabbed some things to help you feel comfortable. We'll just hang out here tonight. No rush, no pressure."

They noticed the raw pinkness of my skin, the lingering marks from the shower, but neither of them said anything. They didn’t need to. It was enough that they were here.

Liam opened the takeout box and placed it in front of me, his usual lighthearted demeanor back in full force. "We’re doing this right. Sleepover style. Junk food, bad TV, and no talking about anything that happened today. Just good vibes."

I couldn’t help but smile faintly. "You really know how to cheer someone up."

Franco sat down next to me on the bed, grabbing a pillow and fluffing it before tossing it behind him. "We’re just here to make sure you get some rest. You’ve had enough of a day, Y/N. So let’s just take it easy."

And for the first time in hours, I let myself relax. I ate, laughing with them over trivial things, and slowly, the weight of the day began to lift, just a little. Eventually, as the night wore on, I could feel the exhaustion start to settle into my bones, the emotional turmoil starting to quiet.

Liam, ever the charmer, pulled the blanket up over me once I finally laid down. "Get some sleep, okay? We’ve got you. And you don’t need to face any of this alone."

I didn’t have the energy to argue, or even to thank him properly. But I gave him a small, tired smile before I closed my eyes. The presence of Franco and Liam, the warmth of their care, felt like the last piece of comfort I needed to finally allow myself to sleep.

I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, I could rest. I wasn’t alone. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

[shizuturnspages]

What would the yandere diluc, dainsleif, kaeya etc, be like with a reader who is a ghoul? (Ghoul is a breed that can only consume human flesh to survive) The reader can go crazy if he doesn't eat anything. Thanks.

Bound by Hunger

Synopsis: They knew. They knew what you were. They knew what you had to do to survive. You were a monster. Their monster. Pairings: [Separate] Yandere Diluc, Dainsleif, Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli x Ghoul! Reader

Diluc

Diluc had faced monsters before.

Creatures lurking in the shadows, corrupted beasts that fed on the weak. He had spent years hunting them, slaying them, ensuring they could never harm Mondstadt.

But then, he met you.

Not a beast. Not a mindless killer. But a person.

A person with red-stained hands and hunger in their eyes.

At first, he tried to fix you.

He offered you alternative food, but your body rejected it.

He had alchemists study your biology, but there was no cure.

He tried to understand, to rationalize, to see past what you were.

But the truth remained: you could only survive by consuming human flesh.

And that truth terrified him.

It tore him apart.

If he let you live freely, people would die.

If he locked you away, you would starve, suffer, and lose your sanity.

If he killed you… could he really call himself any different from a monster?

So he did what he always did.

He took the burden upon himself.

He became the one who procured your meals—quietly, discreetly.

He killed only the wicked, the ones who deserved it.

He told himself that this was justice.

But deep inside, he knew.

He was feeding a monster.

And one day, you would devour him too.

Dainsleif

To Dainsleif, you were proof of the world’s cruelty.

A living being who had been cursed, forced into a cycle of endless hunger, endless suffering.

Perhaps, you were not so different from Khaenri’ah.

And yet, he could not ignore what you were.

He watched you carefully, studying your every move.

He never let you too far out of sight, knowing what starvation could drive you to do.

He treated you not as a lover, nor as an equal—but as a responsibility.

"You should not exist," his eyes seemed to say.

"And yet, here you are."

Still, he did not turn away.

Instead, he taught you control.

He taught you how to hunt without being reckless.

He taught you how to contain your hunger, to resist losing yourself.

He made sure you never forgot who you were beneath the gnawing madness.

Because if you ever fell completely—if you became nothing but a beast driven by starvation—

Then he would be the one to put you down.

Kaeya

Kaeya found your existence fascinating.

A lover who could not survive without consuming human flesh?

How… ironic.

He called you his little secret.

He hid your nature behind clever words and sweet lies.

He played the game of deception with his usual charm and wit.

But beneath his teasing, there was a dangerous edge.

He never truly trusted you.

He always kept one step ahead, ensuring you could never surprise him.

He made sure you knew: if you ever lost control, he would be ready.

And yet, there was something darkly intimate in the way he cared for you.

He fed you when you needed it.

He whispered sweet reassurances as he led you through bloodstained nights.

He made you feel like you weren’t alone.

But you could never tell if he saw you as his beloved…

Or as his most dangerous piece on the board.

Childe

Childe did not fear you.

Why would he?

He had seen true horrors. He had become one himself.

So when he learned the truth about you, he only laughed.

"That’s all? That’s your dark little secret?"

"You need human flesh to live? That’s nothing."

"I’ll bring you as many bodies as you want."

And he meant it.

He brought you corpses of his enemies, the ones who would have died by his hands anyway.

He ensured you were never hungry, never forced to starve.

He embraced your nature with a terrifying sort of devotion.

But in return, he demanded one thing.

That you never hide from him.

That you never pretend to be something you’re not.

That you stay by his side, forever.

Because if you were a monster, then so was he.

And if the world feared you, then he would carve through it until there was nothing left but the two of you.

Zhongli

Zhongli had lived long enough to understand creatures like you.

Your hunger, your madness, your desperate need to consume.

And he accepted it.

But acceptance did not mean freedom.

He set strict rules.

He ensured that you never acted recklessly.

He became the barrier between you and the world.

He provided for you, but only under his conditions.

He dictated who you could feed on.

He ensured that you never endangered Liyue.

He made it clear: you belonged to him, and him alone.

And in his own way, he cared.

He shielded you from Celestia’s wrath.

He taught you how to control your hunger, how to balance your instincts.

He treated you with a patience that no other would offer.

But Zhongli did not compromise.

You were his. His responsibility. His burden.

And should you ever break the rules he set—should you ever lose yourself to your hunger—

Then he would not hesitate.

A contract must always be fulfilled.

Even if it meant bringing you to your end.

[cailinsblog]

Yours to keep: A Jersey of the Heart- Quinn hughes

Quinn hughes x reader

Masterlist

Warnings; Mild Jealousy:

Otherwise, the story is sweet, light-hearted, and focused on romance.

The air in the Rogers Arena buzzed with anticipation as the New Jersey Devils faced off against the Vancouver Canucks. The crowd was a sea of blue and green, but Y/N stood out in her black and red Devils jersey. The name "Hughes" was stitched proudly across the back—but it wasn’t Quinn’s. Instead, it was his brother, Jack’s, and Quinn couldn’t take his eyes off it.

Sitting in the box with a few other friends, Y/N had no idea that Jack's request had caused such a storm inside Quinn. Jack had asked her, as a joke—or maybe not—to wear his jersey to the game. Quinn knew Jack had always been a little cheeky, especially when it came to teasing his older brother, but this? This was too far.

Quinn had always known he had feelings for Y/N. She was his best friend, but she was more than that. They’d grown up together, shared so many memories, and no one made him feel as alive as she did. But neither of them had ever crossed that line, both too scared of what might happen to their friendship.

Jack, of course, had figured it out months ago. The younger Hughes brother was always one step ahead when it came to reading people, and lately, Jack had been pushing Quinn to confess his feelings. But Quinn wasn’t ready—or at least, he thought he wasn’t. Until tonight.

Seeing Y/N in Jack’s jersey ignited something inside him. He was suddenly filled with jealousy that he couldn’t shake. His brother knew how much Y/N meant to him, and yet Jack had asked her to wear his number. It was driving Quinn crazy.

The buzzer sounded, signaling the break between the first and second periods. Quinn skated off the ice, his mind not on the game but on Y/N, on how much he wanted her to be wearing his name, not Jack’s. He couldn’t wait any longer.

As soon as he got into the locker room, Quinn grabbed his phone and texted Y/N.

Quinn: "Come down to the locker room. Now."

Y/N felt her phone buzz and saw the message. A little confused, she glanced around at the other fans, then at Jack on the ice. Maybe Quinn needed something? Without thinking much of it, she made her way down to where the Canucks’ locker room was located.

As soon as Y/N entered the hallway, Quinn was waiting, still in half of his gear, breathing a little faster than usual—not from exertion, but from nerves.

“Hey, everything okay?” Y/N asked, tilting her head in concern.

Quinn didn’t say anything at first. He just stared at the jersey she was wearing, Jack’s jersey, and the jealousy flared up again. Without a word, he reached out and tugged her into the locker room, the door shutting behind them.

“Quinn, what are you—” Y/N started, but Quinn had already moved to his stall and grabbed an extra Canucks jersey with his number on it.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Put this on.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, looking between the jersey in his hand and his serious expression. “What? Why?”

“Because I can’t stand seeing you in Jack’s jersey,” Quinn muttered, his eyes softening as he finally confessed what had been eating away at him all night. “You should be wearing mine.”

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. She looked down at the jersey she was wearing, and suddenly, it all made sense. Quinn wasn’t just upset that she was wearing Jack’s jersey; this was about something more. Something that had been brewing between them for years.

“Quinn…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “Are you jealous?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah. I am. I’ve been jealous for a while now, but seeing you in Jack’s jersey tonight…” He paused, then sighed, meeting her eyes again, vulnerability shining in his. “I like you, Y/N. A lot. And it’s been driving me crazy because I didn’t know if you felt the same. But I can’t just sit back anymore and watch.”

Y/N's heart raced, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as relief and warmth washed over her. “Quinn, I like you too. I always have. I was just scared to ruin what we have.”

Quinn took a step closer, his voice low and sincere. “You won’t ruin anything. I promise.”

He reached out, gently taking Jack’s jersey off her shoulders and tossing it somewhere in the corner of the locker room. Then, with a small, hopeful smile, he held out his own Canucks jersey.

“Wear mine,” he said softly.

Y/N’s heart fluttered as she took the jersey from him, slipping it on. It was a little big on her, but it felt right—like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

“There,” Quinn said, his smile growing. “Now you look perfect.”

Y/N couldn’t help but grin. “I always thought I looked perfect,” she teased, and Quinn chuckled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, you did,” he admitted, taking a step closer, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek. “But now you look even better.”

Before she could say anything else, Quinn leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a soft, tender kiss. It was everything Y/N had ever imagined and more. The kiss was sweet, a culmination of all the years of friendship and unspoken feelings.

When they finally pulled back, Quinn rested his forehead against hers, both of them smiling.

“I guess Jack’s going to kill me for stealing you away,” Quinn joked, though he didn’t sound too concerned.

Y/N laughed, her arms wrapping around his neck. “Jack will survive. Besides, I think he knew this was going to happen before we did.”

Quinn smiled, pulling her into another kiss, this one deeper, filled with all the emotions they had held back for so long. In that moment, it was just the two of them, the noise of the arena fading into the background.

From then on, Y/N was proudly wearing Quinn's name, not just on her back, but in her heart. And that was exactly how it was always meant to be

Please do send in request and reblog

[sterifels-blog]

Last night I had a thought about Simon but I'm not creative enough to come up with a good scenario, so I'll just skip ahead.

Imagine that Simon and Reader had a thing for 1 or 2 months but they never ended up dating, and then Simon disappears and doesn't respond to Reader's messages. A while later Johnny takes Simon and Kylie to spend the week at his house after a mission and there Simon discovers that Reader is Johnny's younger sister, and that the 1 year and 7 month old boy who is very attached to her is actually his son. As if Reader looks a lot like Johnny but her son is identical to Simon.

Feel free to ignore this 👀 Any language errors are Google Translate's fault. Either way I'll spend days thinking about this 🤸‍♀️

this is definitely not a prompt i'd usually cover, but i'll attempt it nonetheless. i had such a hard time trying to conceptualize what an appropriate reaction to this sort of situation would be, but there are so many different ways to validate a reaction. this is the best take i can offer you! ⤵️

A mess of things to fix.

Simon had never imagined that he would be standing in Johnny’s kitchen, staring at a child. A child that he couldn’t fathom, whose heartbeat was unmistakably his own, though he'd never had the chance to know him. The sticky summer heat of a mission’s aftermath still clung to him, sticking to his body in cloying sheets of sweat and travel-worn leather. Simon was a contradiction in flesh: battle-hardened, skin soaked in salt and iron, and yet standing awkwardly in the glow of the kitchen’s overhead light, as if someone had poured an entire century's worth of regret down his throat.

And there you were— you— who had once been just the woman who had made his bones hum beneath the skin. A weekend, a couple of months… something like that. Something forgotten by time, but carved into the ether between you both like graffiti in an alley only the broken remembered.

You were Johnny's younger sister. Johnny, the one who'd so effortlessly pulled him into this twisted little family. But now? Now everything was mangled and unspooled.

His son.

He tried not to blink too hard when he first saw the boy. You were holding him, cradling him in your arms. The little thing was bundled in too many blankets, chubby cheeks peeking from under his small beanie, his large eyes a mirror of someone Simon had never really been sure he wanted to meet. But there they were, those eyes—those identical, goddamn eyes.

Simon didn't remember this. He didn’t even remember the night. But here, in Johnny’s kitchen, surrounded by mugs and heavy laughter that seemed too far off to touch, everything started to settle in his chest like lead.

You didn’t know how to look at him either. There was the hesitation—splayed, unsaid—heavy between you both. The moment when his presence meant more than just the passing shadow of the past. The truth had settled and clung to your face like old makeup. You didn’t want him to see, but you knew. He knew. He knew because his blood had turned to ice, and in his veins, a cold panic spread.

You had a child. His child.

Johnny, ever the oblivious one, smiled as if he didn’t see the earthquake unfolding. “She looks just like me, right? Gave her my best traits. Don’t let her tell you otherwise.”

But it was clear, wasn’t it? Your son. He looked like him, even if the years had stolen what could have been.

“What’s his name?” Simon’s voice was gravel, rough with an unfamiliar edge. He felt nauseous with the knowledge. He couldn’t escape it. The knowledge of a past he’d left behind, unspoken, unresolved, and now here it was—too real to ignore. His son.

You swallowed thickly, keeping the boy close to your side. You told him the name, and Simon didn’t even register the syllables. The truth was louder than any name could be.

"Charlie."

Johnny clapped Simon on the back, misinterpreting the silence. “Oi, mate, just don’t look too long at her kid. He’s already on a first-name basis with trouble, trust me. I’ve seen the future, and it’s got a lot of broken windows in it.”

Simon forced a smile. A bitter curve of his lips. “..Right.” The awkwardness slithered around the table like some beast with too many eyes. Conversation flitted, fragile and half-formed, until dinner had ended and the quiet remained, stretching longer than it should have. The little boy yawned, and it was cemented in the moment it was time for bed. Simon barely heard the clinking of silverware, until Johnny was cooing a cheeky goodnight to his nephew- re-stating that his "favorite uncle" would be there to see him in the morning.

You stood, giving him no choice but to follow. The weight of the moment anchored his feet to the floor like gravity had decided it needed a joke at his expense. As you ascended the staircase with the boy in your arms, Simon’s boots followed behind in a trance. There was something haunting in the way you moved, like a shadow threading through space, one that should’ve been broken long before this— one that felt like a single thread was holding it together.

He hovered by the doorframe of the child’s room as you placed him gently into the crib. The boy squirmed for a moment, settling into the warmth of his sheets, but his little fingers gripped at your sleeve, unwilling to release. Simon watched, his throat tightening like an iron clasp.

You turned to look- and for the first time that night, you made eye contact. You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. The weight of the silence between you both felt like it had grown too heavy, and there, in the doorway, he lingered, as if you had just invited the storm into the room.

You couldn’t escape it any longer— the elephant sitting in the room had too many sharp edges. The question hovered between you, thick and suffocating. He was trying to push it back, but it was there, in his eyes, tangled with guilt and regret. Until, finally, he broke the silence.

"..Love. Can I… can I see him?" Simon’s voice cracked the air, raw and desperate, as if he had the right to ask something like that after all this time.

The words felt like they had shattered the air between you. There was an edge to them—like a plea wrapped in anger. He was furious, but at what? Himself? You? The situation? The fact that he was asking this, now—it made everything too complicated, too impossible.

It made your blood boil. Made your chest tight with a heat you couldn't contain. How dare he? How could he stand there and ask, knowing nothing? Knowing how many nights you’d spent alone, how many times you had to bite back tears, pretending you weren’t breaking under the weight of it all? You didn’t even tell him. You couldn’t. You hadn’t. And now, after all this time, after all the silence, he had the gall to ask for what was his—when he hadn’t been there to help raise him.

Your hands balled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms, but you didn’t snap at him. You couldn’t. You didn’t know how to explain it— the hurt, the fury, the helplessness. He didn’t know. And you hadn’t given him the chance to.

You swallowed hard, biting your lip to keep your voice from shaking. "Yeah," you muttered, cold as ice, before stepping aside. The words stung like salt on an open wound, but they slipped from you, like a wave crashing over the rocks. You didn’t know if you could even trust yourself to speak. "Yeah.. Just— don't hurt him.."

Simon’s eyes softened— too late— and he stepped toward the crib slowly, uncertain, like the boy wasn’t his own flesh and blood. Like he had no right. But he was there. He was looking, and you couldn’t stop it.

You stood by the door, back against the frame, arms crossed, watching as he hesitated, before reaching down to lift Charlie, awkwardly at first, as if he were holding something breakable. It was almost a joke— the way Simon held him like he was a piece of glass, fragile and unworthy of the comfort the child had never known he needed from his father.

And then, like a dam breaking, Simon’s face crumpled, his shoulders shaking, and you saw it. The first tremor of realization, of loss, of guilt— flooding over him in waves too powerful to stop. His hands shook, the child still clutched tightly in his arms, and he cried. A tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another, each one a crack in the wall he’d built around himself, and your heart twisted.

The bitter taste of resentment clawed at your throat, but it was drowned out by the ache you’d been carrying for so long. For so, so long. Watching him finally hold Charlie— the son he’d never known— made something snap inside you, something raw and real. And though you were furious— though a part of you wanted to hate him, to blame him for everything that had been missing, you couldn’t. Not entirely.

The tears fell freely now, down his stubbled chin, mixing with the slow, shuddering breath that escaped his lips. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t even apologize in the right way, but you saw the regret in his eyes, and it twisted the knife a little deeper. He was sorry— more than he could ever express— but it was too late.

"You should’ve been here," you whispered, but Simon couldn’t hear you. He was lost in the weight of it all, too consumed by the moment, holding onto your son like he was the only thing left to hold onto in this shattered mess. He didn’t know how to fix it. Neither did you.

But you couldn’t take him back. Not like this. Not now.

And so, you let him hold him. And Simon wept.