#getting in shape has been a journey

[summertimemusician]

Hero's Purpose Episode 6 Release Date

WE ARE SO BACK

[deductions-and-magic]

On the perimeter of the Int.

so I just watched Interior Chinatown and discovered Archie Kao (and proceeded to start watching his entire filmography as you do) (also i think i really need to read the book Edit: finished the book!! might write a new post)

And I think it is so poignant that he is Uncle Wong

The ABC (American Born Chinese) who has a foot in both worlds (the first to realize the dangers involved and believes it’s his responsibility to protect his people!), who says

"I was born here. In this city. I've been here my whole life."

and yet is so grounded in both cultures

who finds the victims of the systematic violence resulting from the police procedural

is performed by the ABC who was raised on an American farm, who did not know Mandarin when he moved to China a few years back to find his roots and pursued acting there, who is now back in the US (source: his Int. Chinatown interviews), who has always tried to help. to change things (even if small)

In his interviews he talked about how he spent most of his time in Hollywood on procedural dramas

And parallels with Willis Wu who as a "Generic Asian Man" could not be the hero, the lead (on CSI: Enhance! On Chicago PD: Detective but tech guy — so many parallels)

So he, like many Asian Americans, IS Willis Wu (like Uncle Wong was Willis but even more similar)

but more importantly, his path of America -> Asia -> America is the path of so many people who are unsure of “self” and where they stand, thinking about where they come from and what that actually means

What being American Means, What being Asian Means, What being Asian-American Means

so I think it's likely this show represents a culmination of his journey of self discovery

As a Chinese American

And what that means to him.

Not at the intersection of two cultures but Cape Horn -- a confluence

Where oceans crash together and people get submerged

where there is a distinct divide but you can’t see it when you’re in the water

In Chinese there's a saying: "见山是山，见水是水；见山不是山，见水不是水；依然见山还是山，见水还是水", which roughly translates to “Seeing mountains as mountains, seeing water as water; seeing mountains not as mountains, seeing water not as water; still seeing mountains as mountains, water as water"

like you're back where you are before, and it's the same

but it’s different now

Which applies to so many things here.

[blazingstar29]

ain’t no way i just saw a cis guy say dylan mulvaneys is invading women’s spaces SHUT THE FUCK UP

[dearmisshoney]

flesh light & prone bones

synopsis. coming home from brunch, you expected an empty apartment — not to catch your cocky roommate mattheo fucking a fleshlight to the thought of you. curiosity turns to temptation, and you both realize toys could never replace the real thing.

pairing. roommate! mattheo riddle x reader

content/mdni. fem!reader, roommate!au, pervert!reader, cocky!mattheo, pervert!mattheo, implied gymrat!mattheo, fleshlight-fucking, assisted masturbation, voyeurism to participation, filthy teasing, praise, dirty talk, name-calling (sweetheart, baby), overstimulation, allusion to edging, spit play, cum eating, doggy-style/prone bone (?), headlock/slight choking, slight spanking, unprotected p in v!

word count. 3.6k

a/n. this one goes to @pizzaapeteer! she convinced me to write another matty fic! let me know what you think. likes and reblogs are appreciated

inserting the keys in the lock and turning them twice, you finally locked the front door. leaving them to dangle in the door, you slowly made your way inside your shared apartment with mattheo. you only stopped for a moment in the hallway, removing your shoes and the purse you’ve been carrying around your brunch date with the girls.

but not your wired headphones.

no, you’d rather keep those in for the time being, preferring to listen to any kind of music than to mattheo rambling about sports and the like. you weren’t even sure he was home; he had a really bad habit of keeping to himself the important information, disclosing only dumb details like how much his bench press has improved.

but as you make your way further into the apartment, you realize he is home. the opened cardboard box on the kitchen island, the ripped package, and the violently scattered foam bits were a clear indicator that mattheo was at home.

“this jerk never cleans after himself.” you mumbled underneath your breath, extremely quiet, and if it weren’t for the fact that you said these words, you wouldn’t have been able to hear them thanks to your loud music.

mattheo was not the perfect roommate. he was flashy, annoying, messy. he also seems to respect the concept of privacy only when it applies to him; if you try to count the times you’ve found him in your room like a pervert, you wouldn’t have enough fingers, hands and feet combined.

nonetheless, he was paying his share of the rent in time, and if you yell at him a bit, he does clean around as well.

curious as ever, you approached the box to figure out what mattheo ordered.

“kidney failure is written all over him.”

it was probably another gigantic container of protein powder, or creatine, or whatever powders he uses for the gym and his godly physique, as he likes to call it. mattheo has an entire lower kitchen cabinet dedicated to his fitness journey, so such purchases were not uncommon.

with all that in mind, the cardboard box seemed too small compared to his usual orders. the box was also a different shape than the usual huge square cube mattheo gets his supplements in. twisting and turning the package in your hands, your eyes scanned the surface for any sort of clue — a company name, a product name, heck, even a cringey motto about gym life.

but nothing.

the package was blank, discreet.

the foam chunks were of no help, and the shipping paper was torn to pieces.

“he really wanted what’s inside, huh?”

you might as well check the cabinet and see if a new container has been added. that way, the mystery will be solved quicker.

bending at the knees, you dropped down to mattheo’s gym stash and swung open the door. this cabinet was the only place mattheo kept all clean and organized, so you immediately realized no new product was added.

“what the fuck did he buy?”

muttering to yourself again, you raise from your position, prepared to investigate the torn paper. only to have your wired headphones latched around the cabinet knob and snatched out of your ears.

“ugh­– this shi–”

“fuck, hmm, so good.”

now that your ears were no longer trapped by your headphones — which were now pathetically hanging around the knob — you could hear mattheo. and the nasty noises he was making.

he was loud.

“ah, ah, ah.”

his voice was low and raspy, and if it weren’t for the clear needy tone in his words, you would’ve said he was just having a bit too much fun with his video games.

that was not the case, however.

“s–so wet, damn.”

and with that, your brain short-circuits for good.

your entire body froze, one hand clenched around your knotty headphones, the other stiffing up by your side, clawing at the material of your shorts. you stayed like that for a few seconds, trying to process what the fuck you just heard.

maybe it wasn’t him. maybe it was porn, playing from his expensive speakers in his room.

yeah. yeah.

but no matter how much you tried to convince yourself, another guttural moan from mattheo shattered any sort of argument you could come up with.

that was him.

“tight as fuck, shittt.”

not only was mattheo home — he was very home, in his room, jacking off. owning the place and being as vocal as he liked.

“so good, so good.”

you wished to be angry and annoyed at him. you wished to slam your hand on the kitchen counter and yell his name to stop. you wished, you truly did, but something in you was fighting against these urges. something primal was itching at your brain, making your teeth bite into your lips, your hands clenching tighter.

something primal was itching at your stomach, making your tummy do a flip, your panties all wet.

“oh, baby, ohhh–”

you inhaled sharply, closing your eyes in an attempt to disconnect from the situation at hand and think straight.

i should just leave…

“ugh, damn.”

…pretend i heard nothing…

“it feels amazingggg.”

…and just take another walk.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk…”

yeah, i can do it–

you thought you could fight back, but your entire resolve collapsed when you heard your name moaned by mattheo.

that deep, rumbling voice, grunting your name without any shame. again, and again, and again.

“that pussy would feel so much better, i just know.”

so raw and desperate.

completely discarding your headphones, you finally moved. but not towards the front door.

tiptoeing down the hallway, you crept closer and closer to mattheo’s room. the wooden floor was slightly creaking underneath your footsteps, but neither you, nor mattheo seem to pay attention to it. he was too caught up in pleasure, and you were too turned on to care.

“you’d be so warm and– fuckk–”

mattheo was rambling on his own, groaning your name from time to time and vocalizing his dirtiest thoughts about you. and as wrong as this was — eavesdropping on your roommate fucking his fist, there was no shame in you. quite the opposite: his nasty words shoot directly at your core, making arousal pool in your panties and stick to your weeping cunt.

his door was slightly ajar. the close proximity allowed you to bathe into the obscene wet sounds he was making, now clearly registering the rhythmic movement of his thrusts. it was wet, stickily so, the sloshing noises being a definite indicator of mattheo’s need.

the close proximity also allowed you to dip your head in and take a peak.

but you shouldn’t. everyone has sexual urges and it was wrong for you–

“sweetheart, please…”

your head instantly turned towards the crack of the door, the pet name practically latching onto your neck and twisting you around to finally see him.

and you gasped.

that was not a hand.

there was mattheo, sprawled on his bed, completely naked. upper body leaning against the headboard, head thrown back. lower body jutting up and down from the mattress, thrusting with urgency into a pale grey fleshlight.

your thighs clamped into one another, your tiny shorts riding upwards on your legs, seam digging into your clit. you did your best not to snake your hand down into your panties to touch yourself, choosing to use it to steady yourself against the door.

you knew mattheo was hot.

hot was an understatement, really. as much as you liked to make fun of his cocky attitude and his pride for his godly physique, you couldn’t deny it. mattheo riddle was attractive beyond compare, and seeing him in this position made you want to jump on him and fuck him to death.

“shit– to have that sweet cunt all to myself…”

he was high on lust, babbling to himself between moans, jerking that new fleshlight to a sloppy rhythm. his abs were flexing with every rock of his hips; his arm, strained from the pressure of tightly gripping the sex toy, was a sharp valley of muscles, scattered with protruding veins.

“will you let me have you, sweetheart?”

shit.

his voice, still sultry and lustful, now had an undertone of arrogance. his head, previously lolling back against the wall, was now upright — his chocolate eyes staring right at you.

he caught you.

and he was proud of that.

“ah– don’t ignore me, baby.”

you couldn’t answer. words got stuck in your throat, your brain refusing to cooperate. you could only focus on the lazy movements of his hand, now guiding the fleshlight up and down his cock.

his cock, so hard and stiff. drenched in precum and lube. his cock, so red and pulsing, throbbing against the inside of the toy and begging for more.

his chest was raising and falling rapidly, visibly affected by the entire ordeal. the tips of his curls were sticking to his forehead, skin all sweaty and slick. yet, mattheo seemed more composed than you were.

“after i’ve called for you so nicely…”

he smirked, dragging the toy all the way down to his base with a deep groan; sheltering his entire shaft into the poor fleshlight.

“…could at least help me out, sweetheart.”

he did it all intentionally.

it wasn’t like mattheo did not know you got home. he knew, and that urged him to masturbate even more.

you swallowed thickly, still unsure whether to step in or not. a part of you wanted to join him desperately; the other part was arguing for you to leave and cool off alone.

mattheo could see the storm behind your gaze. and he knew how to help you decide.

suddenly, he removed the fleshlight from his shaft completely, letting the sex toy fall from his hand somewhere on the mattress. letting you see the way his stiff cock escaped from its confinement, stood tall for a few seconds, then flopped to the side.

“you’re a manwhore, mattheo.”

it’s all you managed to say as you stepped into the room, removing your cardigan, and throwing it somewhere on his floor.

“you say it like it’s a bad thing, baby.”

he hissed between his teeth, brushing off your ‘compliment’ and focusing on your actions. removing your outer layer, you were now nicely standing in a cropped tee and the tiniest fucking shorts he has ever seen you wear.

and when you seated yourself next to him on the bed, his cock twitched against his thigh hard.

“what if i had guests, hm?”

your voice was condescending, mean. your gaze sharp and accusatory.

but that only turned him on more.

mattheo let out a short, breathy laugh, licking over his lips. your question was of little importance to him. his eyes were focused on you only, hypnotized by your entire existence.

“but you don’t.”

he was so shameless, so brazen. his gaze was dancing along your body, making a first stop on your perky tits, another on the exposed skin of your thighs.

even if you had guests, he wouldn’t have acted differently.

“pervert.”

you spat at him like you were disgusted by his behaviour, yet your hand drew closed to the sex toy and brought it back into the spotlight.

“who would’ve thought–…”

you grabbed the base of his cock without warning, eliciting a strangled moan from mattheo.

“–that you’d–”

gathering some of your spit, you let the liquid drip all the way down to his cock, hitting the throbbing tip and gliding down the side of his cock.

“oh, fuck, wait–”

“–get a fleshlight.”

positioning the fleshlight at the right angle, you dragged it all the way down. his hips buckled involuntarily, the sudden stimulation making his thighs shake.

“why not fuck a real woman?”

you began moving the toy slowly, guiding it up and down. twisting and turning your wrist with expertise, you tried to mimic the way mattheo was jerking himself off before your intrusion.

“oh my god, this is so hot.”

mattheo was still taken aback by the entire situation: not only did you join him in bed, you were now pumping his cock with this newly bought sex toy, making him writhe around his bedsheets.

“so easily pleased.”

you hummed, mocking the way mattheo was already succumbing to pleasure.

he tried to take charge again, raising his torso from the headboard, but you were quicker. with a hand on his chest, you harshly pushed him back down, causing him to drop even closer to the mattress than before.

“answer me, mattheo!”

your speed around his shaft slowed, now dragging the toy at an agonizingly low pace. seeing your roommate mattheo scrunch his face in both pain and pleasure was irresistible.

“t–they’re not you.”

“not me?”

you did not expect such an answer. but he seemed to have answered truthfully, so you reward him by speeding up again.

“ah, ah, ah, sweetheart.”

mattheo was gasping now, hips chasing every glide of the toy like his life depends on it. his eyes were blown-out, half-lidded, heavy with lust; his mouth parted, his lips glossy with spit.

he hated how much of an effect you had on him, but he couldn’t do much.

your hand did anything but falter. the wet suction of the fleshlight was echoing louder and louder between the two of you, almost harmonizing with mattheo’s moans. he was putty under your control, and that made your cunt throb hard.

“and is this toy me?”

you seemed almost mad that he’d compare you with a stupid inanimate object: your lovely lips formed a pout, and your eyes widened with pretend sadness. all of it to emotionally taunt and pester mattheo.

“i can’t fuck you.”

mattheo raised his tone, exhasperated by your little accusations. why were you playing dumb? you would never let him blow your back, so a fleshlight was the onl–

“who said that?”

“huh?”

“who said you can’t fuck me?”

you tilted your head mockingly, putting all your effort into squeezing the base of the toy harder. you wanted to make him cum, you wanted to make him shoot his seed deep into the fleshlight.

“oh, baby, baby baby–”

he was chanting pet names like a mantra, his fingers clawing at the sheets with desperation. his jaw was clenched, and the veins on his forearms were accentuated even more.  

he was close. so close.

“c–can i actually fuck you?”

oh, he was so damn cute. such a big beefy guy, asking for permission, on the verge of tears.

“of course you can.”

mattheo did not answer that. only a long and loud groan left his lips, head digging against the headboard more and more. his body jolted once, twice, then shuddered hard as thick ropes of cum filled the toy.

you could feel the way the fleshlight became heavier with each passing second. you could also hear the slick squelches of it, louder and wetter, as you were still gliding it on his cock — milking him dry.

“give me all you’ve got!”

mattheo was done for. he looked absolutely wrecked, absolutely ruined — you loved it.

“f–fuck, no more, please.” he whined, tossing his head to the side from overstimulation.

you had no intention of stopping, really. but something about mattheo pleading to be released changed your resolve. so, with one final drag up his sensitive cock, you released him.

his cum oozed out of the toy in thick drips immediately, staining his crotch and abs.  

“damn, you really filled it up!”

holding the toy up for inspection, you could see his release seeping more and more out of it. it was creamy and gooey, and it made you wonder how it tastes.

“oh, shut up, you–”

raising the fleshlight higher, you stuck out your tongue and allowed some of his cum to land on it. the salty taste spread across your mouth in an instant.

and instead of spitting it, you happily swallowed.

“fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

mattheo witnessed the entire thing. his cock did too, hardening again against his abs.

“wanna compare it with the real thing?”

and there it was — an even deadlier proposal from you.

you did not even wait for his answer, certain he will agree. rather, you discarded the toy completely, dropping it on the floor, choosing to turn around and bend over for mattheo.

“want? i need it.”

you heard him barely mutter behind you, as eager as before. he retracted his legs from the mattress, allowing you the space to position yourself on your hands and knees for him.

“fuck, baby, your shorts are soaked.”

mattheo now had a clear view of the effect he had on you: your tiny cotton shorts were stained with a big patch of arousal, butchered up all the way into your cunt. heck, if he tried more, he could define the outline of your pussy through your clothes.

“c’mon, mattheo, fuck me!”

you mewled at him like a vixen, arching your back into him and shaking your clothed ass. you instantly felt mattheo’s rough hands cupping the fat of your behind, caressing the skin and even dipping his fingers underneath your shorts.

feeling around. exploring.

“mattheo, huryyyyy”

“shut up.” he growled at you, striking your right buttcheek in a sharp and swift motion. “let me admire you.”

he continued to roam his hands all over you, feather touches all over your skin — exposed or not.

but not for long, as his patience was wearing thin as well.

gripping the hem of your shorts and panties at the same time, mattheo finally dragged them down to your bent knees, exposing that warm and needy hole to his eyes.

“fuck, how could i assume–”

mattheo grasped the base of his cock and, stepping closer to you, he immediately brushed the tip of his cock across your folds, gathering and spreading your wetness around.

“–that i can replace you–”

just to torture you back, he pushed his shaft against your pulsing hole, applying enough pressure for you to feel him, but not enough to enter you.

“–with a mere toy?”

“please, mattheo…”

and there it was, you begging. exactly what he was waiting for.

with your sweet plea on your lips, mattheo finally thrusted inside of you. impatient as ever, he stuffed you full from the beginning, reaching the deepest part of your cunt and hitting that sensitive spot with his tip.

“fuck, it’s so hot.”

ah, you were stuffed to the brim.

“and your walls are sucking me in.”

you could feel every vein and ridge on his cock, pressing deliciously against you.

“loosen up, sweetheart. shit. i can’t move.”

and you did your best to listen, but your hungry pussy was sucking him in like a vice. with your cunt gripping tightly around his shaft, mattheo managed to pull out only halfway.

“i won’t last long, baby.”

and then he thrusted back in. hard. pushing your entire body forward and ruining any sort of balance in your upper body, you fell on the mattress face down.

“fuck, you feel amazing!”

“never keep this pussy away from me, you hear me?”

his rhythm was now constant, jutting his hips into yours at a desperate pace.

“i will have this pussy breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

mattheo's guttural promise echoed in your ears as his hips picked up the pace.

carnal desire was evident in the way he was pounding into you — with unrestrained force. your body instinctively arched more and more against him, wishing to never be separated from his body ever again.

the slapping sounds of flesh on flesh was the only prevalent sound, sometimes joined by moans, gasps and whines. your face was completely buried in the mattress, lips even biting at the bedsheets in an attempt to muffle some of your pornographic noises.

mattheo saw that and did not like it one bit.

“bad fucking girl!”

your entire upper body was lifted from the bed in one smooth movement, mattheo’s strong arms sneaking around your torso and neck. his right arm was gripping at your midpoint, steadying you.

his other arm, however, put your head in a nice meaty headlock.

“let me hear you, sweetheart!”

tightening his hold on you, his arm immediately flexed around your neck, pushing his hard bicep closer to your face.

“ah, mattheo.”

“yeah, baby. gonna cum?”

the new position allowed mattheo to reach even deeper, kissing your cervix with his aggressive thrusts. he was throbbing, ready to orgasm a second time that day.

“let me make you cum.” he whispered softly against your face, placing a half-peck on the shell of your ear.

and with that, he lowered his hand from your torso to your pussy, locating your pulsing nub and drawing fast circles on it.

“oh my god i'm–”

and he was too. his hips slammed faster and faster into your cunt, sloppily thrusting until the very end.

“don’t move!” he grunted aggressively in your ear.

mattheo could feel you spasming, trying to run away from him. but he had to fill you up. he had to cream your pussy for real.

“take it all, sweetheart. be a good fucktoy for me!”

and you couldn’t go against him even if you wanted to. his big arms were securely holding your body in place.

so you stilled your hips as best as you could, settling nicely into his body, allowing mattheo to paint your insides with his cum.

and make a big mess, just like he did with the fleshlight.

•••

“i am throwing away the fleshlight!”

“oh, so i did better than it?”

“you’re insane for even asking.”

©dearmisshoney 2025. do not copy, translate, or claim any of my writings or works as your own.

tags: @downbad4reid, @cafechichay, @lov3notts

[jugumpuppet]

Act 1: The Heart Never Lies Prev. < Page 19 > Next

// This comic was a challenge I took on to test if I could keep with a very strenuous deadline. 20 pages in one week. It was both difficult and rewarding learning what I could and could not do. Learning to sacrifice quality for quantity in order to meet the ridiculous deadline that eventually took a toll on me physically. I also learned what was the most important aspects for me in comic making and learning to either lean into it or omit it all together. Such a fascinating and physically demanding challenge that while gave me so much self doubt during the process, has taught me to be a better story teller. What I can get done in just a little over two weeks has been a self-justifying journey. The total time period of scripting, thumbnailing, linearting, coloring, and lettering was 2 and a half weeks. I got all the line work done in 6 days and it’s what explains the inconsistency and poor shape choices. No time to revise. I will never do something like this again. I'm planning to continue this Sonic narrative, but at a leisure pace compared to a crunch race. If you’d like to follow my process and get early access to each page, consider joining my patreon.

[marauroon]

I’m in desperate—I mean desperate—need of a Sirius x Reader soulmate AU series written by you. Because oh my God, the idea is just so sweet!

To think that, despite everything—even in the darkest moments of his life—since he was just a little boy, the thought of his one true person waiting for him somewhere out there has been what pushed him through it all. Especially knowing that his parents weren’t soulmates, Sirius has always been absolutely certain that he has to end up with his soulmate. It’s that… or nothing for him so when he starts his Hogwarts journey he’s already on a mission.

── .✦ 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐲. (𝐬.𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤)

sirius black wanted nothing more in life than to find his soulmate, to give himself the life his parents never had. but of course it’s not that easy.

sirius black x fem!soulmate!reader 9.8k angst masterlist.

PART ONE. PART TWO.

CW | mentions of mistreatment in the black family home, soulmates are complicated, antagonistic relationship between lily and james, peter gets some love, a lot of this is from sirius’ perspective

They say the mark fades the moment your soulmate touches you.

A simple, skin-deep magic with depth beyond comprehension. One moment, you carry a patch of ink—some obscure splotch, a fingerprint, a handprint, a streak. The next, it’s gone. Just... gone. The skin is smooth and unblemished where once magic lingered.

The mark doesn’t tell you who, only where—where on your body your soulmate will first touch you. And once they do, once your souls collide in that first, fated contact, the mark disappears. Like you’re whole again. Like you’ve found something you didn’t know you were missing.

No one really remembers a time before their mark. It's always been there—like birthmarks only fate-born. A quiet promise that someday, somewhere, someone will reach for you and the world will shift.

Some people search for their whole lives. Others stumble into it by accident—brushing hands in a corridor, bumping shoulders in a crowd, one drunken kiss on a dare that changes everything. And then there are those who never find it at all.

Or worse—those who refuse to.

Sirius had spent his entire childhood watching the mark on his mother’s right hand.

It was a violent thing. An ink-black smear that twisted over the bones of her knuckles and bled toward her wrist like a bruise. It was always stark against her pale skin—more visible when her voice rose, when her wand lifted, when Regulus flinched and Sirius refused to cower.

Walburga Black was a woman of ancient lineage and granite values. The House of Black didn’t marry for love. They married for blood. For power. For family name. Soulmates were a fairytale whispered by Halfbloods and Muggleborns, a sentimental excuse for weakness.

And so the smear on her hand never faded.

“She should’ve found him,” Sirius had once whispered to Regulus, who was eight and still soft in the face. “Her soulmate,”

Regulus didn’t look up from his book. “She doesn’t believe in them.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sirius muttered. “She still has one.”

That was what made it worse, really. That somewhere in the world, the one person who might’ve made her less like herself was walking around unaware. That she’d never tried. That none of them did.

He had a mark, too. A broad, dark patch on the front of his shoulder, curling slightly round to the outside of his arm. It looked more like a smudge than anything. Not delicate, not shaped like fingers or palms. Just… mess. Like someone had leaned against him with soot on their hands.

His mother had tried to scrub it off, once.

“It’s barbaric,” she’d hissed, dragging a cloth over his skin with vinegar and spells. “Sentimental nonsense.”

It hadn’t worked. The skin there had stayed marked, warm, stubborn with fate.

And Sirius had made a promise to himself that day. He would find the person who belonged to that mark. He would.

Because he was not going to turn into his mother.

—

The Hogwarts Express smelled like dust and pumpkin, and Sirius was trying very hard not to look as excited as he felt.

He had left. He had left that house, that woman, that family. He was on the train to a castle full of magic and secrets, and he was going to make friends and break rules and maybe even find the person with soot-stained fingers who would touch his arm and make the mark vanish.

He had only just dumped his trunk into the nearest half-empty compartment when a gangly, bespectacled boy stuck his head in and grinned.

“Oi—this seat taken?”

Sirius shrugged. “It is now.”

James Potter flopped down beside him without asking again, closely followed by two other boys: a round-faced, cheerful one who introduced himself as Peter, and a quiet, bookish one with scars hidden behind long sleeves who offered only a nod and the name Remus.

They were only halfway into the journey when the topic—inevitably—arose.

“Soulmarks,” Sirius said, dropping the word into the conversation like a dare.

The carriage fell into a beat of silence. Not uncomfortable, exactly, but loaded — the way quiet feels just before lightning hits. James perked up first, eyes narrowing with interest, then grinned.

“Oh, we’re doing that already, are we?” he said, spinning slightly on the bench so he was facing the rest of them properly. “Right then. Let’s see the lot of yours. Starting with you, Mr Mysterious.”

He pointed at Sirius with an impish grin. Peter gave a small, nervous laugh, and Remus — who had been quietly reading the front page of a Daily Prophet someone had left behind — lowered it slowly.

Sirius hesitated for a second, not because he was shy, but because his mark had always felt like something far too personal to show off, especially under the weight of the Black name. But here, with these boys, he felt the kind of safety he didn’t yet have the words for.

With a shrug, he tugged up the sleeve of his jumper and peeled it back past his bicep. Across the curve of his shoulder — wrapping from the edge of his chest to just past the blade of his back — was a dark smear, like someone had dragged a piece of charcoal across his skin and tried to rub it off before it dried. It was heavy-looking, almost like soot or ash, thick and indelible. Not a handprint. Not a brush of fingers. Just... contact. Weight. Pressure.

“Bloody hell,” James muttered, leaning forward. “Did your soulmate fall on you?”

Sirius laughed — an unexpected, genuine sound. “Haven’t the faintest idea. Maybe they shoulder-barged me. Maybe they crashed into me mid-duel. Maybe it’s a hug. Who knows? Could’ve been anything.”

James hummed, clearly intrigued. “I mean... I suppose you’d know immediately, yeah? The second it happened.”

“Mark fades when it happens,” Sirius replied, tugging his sleeve back down. “Gone. Just like that. You’re ‘whole’ or whatever it is.”

“Romantic, that,” Peter said. “In a weird, sort of terrifying way.”

“Don’t even have to ask about yours,” Sirius said, nodding at James.

James didn’t hesitate. He swept his unruly hair back from his face and tilted his head to the side, revealing the left side of his face — and more importantly, the soft, unmistakable shape of a milky white handprint cradling his cheek. It looked like someone had cupped his face gently, thumb grazing his cheek. It was... tender. Oddly intimate.

Peter chuckles.

“Oh, look at you,” Sirius drawled. “That’s not a soulmark. That’s the prelude to a snog.”

James grinned unabashedly. “Reckon it is, yeah. Imagine, though— first time I meet them, they’re gonna touch my face like I’m some kind of Greek tragedy,”

“Probably to make out with me,” he added with a waggle of his eyebrows, and the entire group groaned.

“Godric help them,” Remus muttered under his breath.

Peter looked slightly self-conscious now that the attention was drifting his way, but when Sirius raised an eyebrow at him, he sighed and turned slightly, pointing at the side of his nose. A small brown splotch marked the bridge, barely the size of a Knut.

“That’s it?” Sirius said.

Peter flushed. “Yes? I don’t know what it means either,”

James leaned in with mock seriousness, licking his thumb and making a show of reaching over. “Sure it’s not just dirt, Peter? Let me—”

Peter yelped and batted his hand away, laughing. “Get off, you tosser!”

Even Remus snorted.

Sirius eyed him then. “What about you, then? Don’t think you’re getting out of this,”

Remus looked suddenly awkward—more awkward than Sirius had ever seen him—and shook his head. “I haven’t got one.”

James looked genuinely surprised. “You... haven’t?”

Remus shrugged. “Not that I’ve ever found,” Not that he’d ever made the effort to check.

“Bollocks,” Sirius said, already rolling up his sleeves again. “Everyone’s got one. It's the whole point, isn’t it?”

James nodded eagerly. “Yeah— we’ll find it. Take your shirt off,”

Peter choked on his own spit.

“Hold your horses, woah—” Remus muttered, clearly flustered.

“Come on, just let us look!” James said. “We’ll be quick about it.”

After several minutes of grumbling and reluctant sighs, Remus finally rolled his eyes and let them have a look—within reason. They checked his forearms, shoulders, collarbones, back, even his calves. Nothing.

“I told you—” Remus started, but Sirius, now unrelenting in his curiosity, stepped closer and squinted at the hairline near Remus’ right temple.

“Hold on,” he said, voice low with interest.

He reached out—gently, and with an uncharacteristic kind of caution—and swept a lock of Remus’ hair back.

There, just along the edge of his hairline, half-hidden by curls, was a thin, chocolate brown mark. Like a thumbprint, just brushing the edge of his temple.

The room went quiet.

“Found it!” Sirius said, triumphantly.

Remus blinked, although, surprisingly, didn’t look all that relieved. “Alright,”

“Told you,” James said smugly, sitting back with a satisfied look. “Everyone’s got one.”

Remus said nothing, but Sirius caught the way his fingers brushed the edge of his fringe, as if somehow wanting to feel it—to acknowledge it now that it was real.

They were quiet for a few minutes after that. Just sitting with it.

And Sirius found himself thinking, strangely, about his mother again—the way her own soulmark had never faded. How it had sat like an accusation across the back of her hand, inky and unmoving, every time she raised it. He’d seen it when she tugged harshly on Regulus’ hair. When she yanked Sirius by the collar. Always there. A reminder of what she could have had.

She had told him once, sneering, “Soulmates are for commoners. Fairytales. Blood comes first. Blood is eternal.”

And Sirius had known, even then, that he wanted something else. Something more.

These boys—these three ridiculous, infuriating, brilliant boys—might not have known it, but they were the first promise he’d ever been given that he might not end up like her. That the mark on his arm meant something real. That someone out there might touch him one day, and the mark would vanish, and the emptiness he’d carried since childhood might finally ease.

He didn’t know it yet, but he was going to spend years hoping for that moment.

And dreading it in equal measure.

—

You’ll never forget the first time James Potter laid eyes on Lily Evans.

It’s early in your first year—just a few days in—and you’re walking with her and Mary down one of the endless, winding corridors of Hogwarts, heading to Charms. Lily’s still got that Muggle-born wonder gleaming in her eyes, even though she tries to hide it behind a proper sense of logic and practicality. She’s talking about the theory behind wand movement, hands gesturing enthusiastically, when it happens.

James Potter, all wild hair and taller-than-he-should-be confidence, rounds the corner with his entourage, Sirius, Remus, and Peter flanking him like a self-appointed court. He spots her, freezes mid-step, and goes oddly quiet.

You notice. You always notice when boys look at Lily. But this one feels different.

Then, James grins. “That’s her,” he says, loud enough for all of the corridor to hear. “That’s my soulmate.”

Lily stops walking. “I’m sorry, what?”

He strides up, not missing a beat. “Your hand, it matches my face,”

She lifts her eyebrows. “It’s the most common soul mark in the world.”

“Just humour me,”

She rolls her eyes—but shows him anyway. A dark mark covering her palm like she’d dipped it in black paint, visible for a fraction of a second before she tucks it behind her again like it’s private. Sacred.

James, however, looks like he’s been handed a prophecy.

“See,” he says, tapping the side of his own face, just under the curve of his left cheekbone. “Perfect fit. You held my face. Or you will. That’s what the universe wants,”

“Or you’re delusional,” she says sweetly. “Ever thought of that?”

You laugh. So does Mary. But James—he just smiles, full of charm and stupid certainty.

From that moment on, James is relentless.

He doesn’t declare it once and then let it lie. No—he tells everyone who’ll listen. Tells Peter, tells Sirius, tells Remus (who already knows but still rolls his eyes every time). Tells older students. Tells a professor, once, though you think he was joking that time.

At first, it’s annoying. Then it becomes unbearable.

Because the Marauders, they don’t just say they believe in soulmates. They act like it means they’re entitled to you.

You and Lily and Marlene and Dorcas and Mary had started off giving them the benefit of the doubt. They seemed harmless enough: loud, yes, but not cruel. But then James began following Lily everywhere— always appearing outside your common room, in the corridors between classes, in the library. And Sirius and the others followed along too, trailing after you girls like a bad smell.

They’d show up outside Potions just to “bump into” you. Or drop casual comments in the Great Hall about how Remus got the highest score on the Defence essay, as if anyone asked. Or make loud boasts about Quidditch tactics, like they were auditioning for a future career in bragging.

You never understood what they wanted. It was clear enough that James was obsessed with Lily, but what about the rest of them?

Remus always seemed more amused than anything, like he was watching a tragic play unfold, one he knew the ending to but couldn’t stop. Peter was just... there. Laughing too hard at every joke James made, like he thought that was the price of staying in the group.

And Sirius— Sirius was different.

He didn’t really flirt. Didn’t boast as much. He mostly watched. With those storm-grey eyes that felt like they were always seeing more than they should. He’d smirk sometimes, or throw in a sarcastic comment, but he was quieter than you expected. There was something behind it, like he wasn’t entirely present. Like his mind was elsewhere, chasing shadows.

You noticed that too. How he’d go still when someone mentioned soulmarks in passing. How he looked at couples in the corridors—the ones laughing with linked hands, whose marks had already faded—with a kind of distant longing that felt too raw for someone so young.

It was almost sad, in a kind of pathetic way.

But none of that excused their behaviour.

The truth was: you didn’t like them. Not really. None of you did.

They were loud and reckless and juvenile. They’d hex Slytherins in the corridor and act like they were defending the moral high ground. They’d shout across classrooms, make up chants, prank students for fun. Once they transfigured all the cauldrons in Potions into frogs, and Professor Slughorn found it hilarious. You didn’t.

You didn’t like being followed. You didn’t like the way they laughed when you were trying to work, or how James seemed to think Lily owed him something just because he’d decided the universe wanted them together.

You’d tried confronting them, all of you.

“I’m not interested,” Lily had told James flat-out one day outside Charms. “No matter what your cheek tells you.”

“But you will be,” he’d replied, infuriatingly smug. “Eventually,”

You’d wanted to hex him on her behalf.

The worst part was how consistent they were. They just didn’t get bored. Most boys would move on after the first rejection—bruised ego, muttered grumbling. But not James Potter. He treated it like a game he was determined to win. Like every protest was just another obstacle the fates had set up to test his resolve.

It wasn’t romantic. It was exhausting.

And the more it went on, the more it began to change the dynamic between the two groups. The Marauders kept orbiting around you, even when it was obvious they weren’t welcome. Even Remus, who you thought might’ve had some basic common sense, proved to be just as bad.

You started changing your routes to class. Started choosing study corners furthest away from their usual haunts. You stopped walking the long way to Herbology because they’d wait for you by the greenhouse and pretend it was coincidence. But no matter what you did, they always found you.

It wasn’t even that they were mean. That might have been easier. They were just... there. Always.

And when they weren’t there, you caught yourself noticing.

It was a strange thing, realising how used you’d grown to their presence. How you’d memorised their stupid voices. How, occasionally, when Sirius didn’t say something clever and cutting in class, you’d feel the absence of it.

You don’t notice it at first—not really. Sirius Black is a lot of things: loud, charming, irritating, surprisingly clever when he wants to be. But what he is most of all is consistent. A constant thorn in your side. An ever-present source of chaos orbiting James Potter’s ego.

So when he starts acting strangely, it takes a while to catch your attention. At first, you chalk it up to more Marauder nonsense. Another prank brewing. Another hare-brained scheme. But then the weeks pass, and the silence stretches, and you begin to realise something is off.

He starts dating. A lot.

It begins in fourth year, the way most ridiculous boy behaviour begins—with no explanation, no warning, no respect for peace. One week it’s Emilia Montague, who has hair like spun gold and a voice that drips honey. Then it’s Jules Macmillan, who calls him “Black” and slaps his arm when he makes her laugh. A week later, he’s holding hands with Evan Rosier’s cousin at the Quidditch pitch.

It becomes a bit of a game, watching the trail of would-be soulmates.

You and the girls make a tally chart in the margins of your notes—Sirius' Heartbreak Count, complete with doodles. Lily calls it “tragic.” Dorcas calls it “desperate.” You’re inclined to agree with both.

He doesn’t seem happy with any of them.

There’s always a flicker of disappointment in his eyes after each kiss. Each failed attempt at connection. Like he’s waiting for something to spark and it never does. You don’t know why it bothers you—maybe it’s just strange, seeing Sirius Black not get what he wants.

What you don’t know, what none of the girls know, is that Sirius is searching.

Frantically, recklessly, hopelessly.

He tries everything. Girls, boys, dates by the lake, snogging in empty classrooms, brushing against strangers in Hogsmeade with his sleeves rolled up, just in case. Every time someone new touches his soulmark—just barely brushing the dark smear on his shoulder—he closes his eyes, waiting for the heat, the light, the magic.

It never comes.

He acts like he doesn’t care. Laughs about it. Brags. But the truth is: it’s killing him. Slowly. Quietly.

Because every time someone skims over that mark and nothing happens, a tiny piece of him breaks off. And he’s terrified there won’t be anything left by the time he finds the right person—if he ever does.

And then Peter finds his soulmate.

It happens at the beginning of fifth year. Quietly, almost accidentally. A Ravenclaw girl named Sybill, who spills an entire bottle of ink across Peter’s lap in the library while reaching for a Divination book. Their hands collide. Her fingers press against the side of his nose to wipe off a splotch of ink—and just like that, the brown mark on Peter’s skin disappears.

The Marauders explode with excitement.

James shouts. Remus claps Peter on the back. Even Sirius manages a grin, saying something like, “About bloody time,” and ruffling his hair.

But it’s forced. All of it.

Later that night, Sirius doesn’t join the celebration in the common room. He doesn’t toast with Butterbeer or tease Peter about marrying her. He disappears without a word. No one sees him until morning.

Peter can’t even bring himself to be annoyed. Not really. Not when he knows the truth.

Because they all know how much Sirius wants it. How much he needs it.

He’s never said it out loud, not fully, but they know. They’ve seen the way he looks at the mark on his arm. The way he flinches when someone mentions his family.

Sirius was born into a house that doesn’t believe in love.

That he used to stare at the stain on his own shoulder and imagine what kind of person would leave a mark like that. He’d lie awake at night thinking of how it would feel when the right hand met his skin and the darkness vanished. He promised himself he’d find them, whoever they were. That he wouldn’t settle for anything less than fate.

But now it’s fifth year, and everyone’s starting to find theirs.

Peter. A seventh-year Ravenclaw. Two Hufflepuff girls from their year.

And Sirius still wakes up every morning with the same mark on his arm. Still hears the echo of his mother’s voice every time he thinks he might be falling for someone who isn’t right.

“You’re a Black. You don’t need love. You need a legacy.”

Remus tries to comfort him, in that quiet, practical way of his.

“Maybe they’re not here,” he says one night as the two of them sit on the roof of the Astronomy Tower. “Maybe they’re a Muggle. Someone you’ll meet after school,”

Sirius scoffs. “And what? I’m supposed to wait until I’m forty to stop being miserable?”

James, bless his heart, tries to be optimistic.

“Maybe they’re in a different year. Or got expelled. Maybe you’ve walked past them and just didn’t notice!”

“I would’ve noticed,” Sirius says. “I always notice.”

And that’s the problem, really.

He notices everything. Every brush of skin, every accidental touch. Every time someone’s hand drifts too close to his shoulder, his breath catches. And every time it’s a false alarm, it hurts just that little bit more.

He stops dating after a while.

Stops pretending it’s fun. Stops trying to turn every crush into a cosmic sign. He goes quiet instead. Withdraws into himself in a way that startles the rest of the Marauders.

You notice too.

At first, you’re suspicious. Sirius Black, not flirting? Not loitering around with James and causing chaos in the corridors? Clearly something’s afoot. You and the girls watch him warily, waiting for the punchline. Waiting for whatever stupid, elaborate prank he’s been cooking up in the shadows.

But it never comes.

He just... stops.

He shows up to class. He does the work (mostly). He still laughs at James’ jokes and joins in on late-night games of Exploding Snap. But something about him feels dimmed. Like someone turned the brightness down and forgot to turn it back up again.

You catch him in the library once. Alone. Reading.

Not just pretending to read while scouting for mischief—actually reading. You don’t even realise it’s him at first, not until he tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and sighs, that heavy, exhausted kind of sigh you only let out when you’re tired of your own thoughts.

It’s strange, seeing him like that. Almost... human.

You don’t say anything. But you wonder.

You wonder what it would take to make a boy like Sirius Black lose his fire.

The others don’t know how to help.

James keeps trying to set him up at parties—“You’ve got to give Marlene a go, mate, you haven’t lived!”—but Sirius just shakes his head and makes excuses. Peter walks on eggshells around him now, too guilty to mention Sybill’s name. Even Remus has started watching Sirius like he’s waiting for him to fall apart.

And maybe he is.

Because Sirius is still staring at his soulmark every morning. Still pressing his fingers against the edge of it in the mirror, hoping for something to change. Still half-convinced that the universe has made some horrible mistake and left him behind.

And deep down, he’s terrified that one day he’ll stop believing entirely.

Terrified that he’ll become like his parents after all—loveless, cold, bound to someone he doesn’t care about out of duty or desperation. That he’ll wake up one day with a ring on his finger and still feel empty.

The Marauders try to reassure him, but there’s only so much comfort logic can offer when your heart is breaking.

“Maybe your soulmate’s just late,” Remus says.

Sirius smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Maybe.”

But he doesn’t believe it anymore.

And the worst part is—he thinks maybe he doesn’t deserve to.

—

It starts with one of James’ bright ideas—those three words guaranteed to end in absolute catastrophe.

You’d almost forgotten what they were like at full volume, the four of them together. Sirius has been quiet. James has been distracted by Quidditch. Peter’s been off somewhere playing the role of besotted boyfriend. Only Remus still walks with that same watchful calm, as though he’s just waiting for them all to detonate.

But now, spring has finally settled over the grounds, and apparently that’s all it takes for them to start acting like menaces again. Warm sun. Open skies. Exams far enough away to ignore. The perfect ingredients for trouble.

They pick a Saturday afternoon—when the courtyard is packed. Blankets spread across the grass, books open in sunbeams, students from all four houses lounging about, soaking up the rare spell of warm weather.

It’s almost peaceful.

Until, of course, it isn’t.

You don’t even see the beginning of it. One moment you’re mid-conversation with Lily and Mary, trying to decipher the reading Professor Vector assigned, and the next you hear it—a low, slow rumble that can only mean one thing: a spell misfiring, or worse, succeeding exactly as planned.

A bang. A crack. A distant cackling.

Then—chaos.

Water explodes from the central fountain like a geyser. But it’s not just water. It’s pink. And sticky. And foaming. Thick bubbles rain down in hot, fizzy clumps that stain robes and cling to hair.

Someone screams. Then someone else. People scramble, books flying, cloaks drenched.

The spell races outwards, triggering a domino effect. More fountains erupt. Flowerbeds launch their contents skyward. A tree nearby begins to moo like a cow. First-years scatter. You spot one poor Slytherin girl get absolutely bodied by a rogue jet of foam, which sends her skidding across the wet stone with a shriek.

And you?

You’re drenched. Covered in what smells distinctly like cherry-flavoured soap and glitter. Your scrolls are ruined. Your hair sticks to your forehead. A glob of pink bubbles drips from your left eyebrow into your eye, and it stings.

Mary coughs violently. Dorcas is doubled over, wiping foam out of her mouth. Lily looks like she might start setting people on fire.

And just when you think it couldn’t get worse—someone bursts into tears.

A whole group of first-years huddle near the corridor entrance, some of them crying, others shaking and soaked through. One boy is trying to wring out his bag, which is frothing like a cauldron gone wrong.

That’s when you see them.

James, Sirius, Peter and Remus, standing at the top of the courtyard steps like the gods of mischief themselves, admiring their handiwork. James is laughing. Doubling over with it. Sirius grins behind his hand, not quite as loud but no less smug. Even Remus has a reluctant smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, though he looks slightly apologetic when his gaze lands on the crying first-years.

But James? He lives for this.

He catches sight of you all below and grins wider, leaning on the bannister like a conquering hero. “You’re welcome!” he shouts, arms wide, as though he’s done the school a bloody favour.

And that’s Lily’s last straw.

You don’t even get the chance to stop her. One second she’s storming forward, and the next she’s standing toe-to-toe with James Potter, fire in her eyes, her wet robes whipping around her ankles like war banners.

“You complete, arrogant, idiotic—”

James’ smirk falters.

“Oh come on, Evans, it was funny! Just a bit of spring chaos. We’re making memories!”

“Memories? You’re lucky you didn’t traumatise those poor first-years! Do you have any idea how many people you’ve covered in Merlin-knows-what? Or if someone sprains an ankle from slipping on your ridiculous glitter spell?!”

James opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks at his friends, then back at Lily. And tries again with a laugh.

“It was just a bit of fun—”

The slap echoes.

You swear the whole courtyard goes silent.

It’s not violent, exactly. But it’s loud. Sharp. Final. James recoils more from shock than pain, hand flying to his cheek where the skin is rapidly turning red. He stares at Lily, wide-eyed, like he’s just seen something completely impossible.

Lily doesn’t wait for a reaction. She turns on her heel and marches away, spine stiff with rage.

You and the girls scramble after her, slipping and squelching through the aftermath. Marlene grabs your wrist before you can get too far.

“Wait.”

“What? We have to catch Lily—”

“No, look,” she hisses, pulling you back a few steps. “James.”

You turn.

James is still standing in place, dazed, fingers grazing his cheek.

But that’s not what Marlene’s pointing at.

You follow her gaze to the spot just beneath his eye. The place you and everyone else at Hogwarts has seen marked for years. The pale, milky-white handprint that always curved over his cheek like a ghost of affection, a sign from the universe that someone, somewhere, would one day hold his face with love.

It’s gone.

Completely.

Not faded. Not lightened. Just—vanished.

Your heart stops. Marlene inhales sharply.

“Oh no.”

Your mouth goes dry. You glance past her, back at the boys.

James is still frozen, his hand touching the cheek Lily slapped. There’s a dazed look in his eyes, like he’s been thrown out of orbit. Sirius is watching him with narrowed eyes, the ghost of a smile dying on his lips.

You feel a chill settle in your spine.

Because if Marlene’s right—if James’ soulmate mark has vanished—then that means...

“Bloody hell,” you breathe. “He was right.”

Marlene nods grimly. “We can’t let her find out like this.”

But it’s too late. Lily’s already disappeared into the castle, trailed by Dorcas and Mary, soaked and furious. And now you have to run after her. You have to get there before the realisation does.

You shove past Sirius’ shoulder as you go.

Deliberate. Sharp.

It’s not just anger. It’s disgust. You don’t even give him a word. Just that one hard nudge as you pass, an unspoken “You’ve crossed the line.”

He flinches.

Not because of the shove—Sirius Black isn’t afraid of a little contact—but because he feels it. The judgement. The disappointment. The thing he’s been trying to outrun since he realised he might not be better than the people who raised him.

You don’t look back.

You sprint through the castle corridors, foam drying on your skin, your clothes damp and clinging. The halls are still buzzing with the aftermath of the prank—students yelling, teachers trying to regain order, enchanted trees mooing somewhere in the distance.

You find Lily inside the girls’ bathroom, gripping the edge of a sink like she’s trying to hold herself together.

Her shoulders shake.

You slow to a walk.

Mary’s rubbing her back. Dorcas is pacing. No one knows what to say.

“She slapped him,” Dorcas says under her breath, half in awe.

“She bloody well should have,” you snap.

Lily looks up.

“Was it too far?” she asks. Her voice is fragile in a way you rarely hear. Like she’s trying to justify herself to the universe.

“No,” you say gently. “He deserved it.”

And it’s true.

You believe in soulmates. You believe in the magic of it—the wonder. But even magic doesn’t excuse cruelty. James Potter can be charming, and brave, and infuriatingly loyal, but today? Today he crossed a line. And you’re not going to let Lily think she was wrong for calling him out.

She nods, swiping a hand under her eyes.

“I just—I’m so tired of him thinking the world revolves around him. Like we’re all just extras in the James Potter show. And I know he thinks I’m his soulmate, but that doesn’t give him the right to treat people like that. Especially not you lot.”

You hesitate.

You glance at Marlene. She gives you a grim little nod.

“Lil...” you start.

She freezes.

“Don’t,” she says.

You flinch. “Lily—”

“Don’t,” she says again, firmer this time. “Don’t say it.”

You fall silent.

Because she knows. Of course she knows. The way James looked at her after the slap, like he’d just had something knocked out of him. The stark paleness of her palm.

She knows.

And you know what that means for her.

Lily Evans has spent the last five years being hunted by the boy who swears she’s destined for him. She’s spent every term, every class, every common room hour pushing back. Standing her ground. And now... the universe is laughing in her face.

She clutches the edge of the sink again, knuckles white.

“No,” she says. “I won’t let it be true.”

Mary reaches for her. “Lily—”

“No. I don’t care if the mark’s gone. I don’t care if he’s supposed to be my other half. He’s selfish, and he’s arrogant, and he doesn’t listen. That isn’t what I want in a soulmate. That isn’t what I deserve.”

None of you argue.

Because she’s right.

James Potter may be her soulmate. But that doesn’t mean he’s ready to be.

—

The dormitory is quiet, in that awful way that happens when something big has happened—something wrong. James lies curled on his bed, the heavy velvet hangings pulled back for once, as if no one quite has the heart to close him off from the rest of them. His shirt is wrinkled, glasses abandoned on his dresser, and he hasn’t said anything in over an hour. Not since he’d stammered his way through the story, not since he showed them the now-unmarked skin of his cheek and murmured, “It’s gone.”

And it is. Gone.

There’s nothing left on his face. Not even a faint outline or shadow. Just smooth skin, still red from Lily’s slap. There’s no magic glow, no dramatic fanfare—just absence. That was the moment, and it’s over.

James stares at the ceiling as though he can find answers in the wooden beams above.

Remus sits nearby, his Transfiguration book forgotten in his lap, watching him with silent worry. Peter’s perched awkwardly at the edge of his own bed, fidgeting with the sleeve of his pyjama top. Sirius hasn’t even changed yet, which is strange in itself. He’s still in his robes, arms crossed, leaning against the bedpost like he’s afraid if he sits down it’ll make the whole thing too real.

“She slapped me,” James says at last, his voice hollow.

No one replies. What could they possibly say?

“I thought—I always thought it would be different. Like... I thought she’d kiss me, maybe. Or—bloody hell, even hug me. I’ve imagined it so many times. My soulmate mark disappearing while she’s holding my face—like in the books, yeah? All romantic. She’d look at me and know.” He lets out a short, bitter laugh. “But no. She slapped me. She hated me in that moment. That’s what the mark was all along. A physical reminder that my soulmate despises my existence.”

Sirius shifts his weight, looking down at the floor.

“She doesn’t hate you,” Remus says gently. “She was angry. There’s a difference.”

James doesn’t answer. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and takes a shaky breath, but it comes out wrong—hitching, like he’s holding something back and failing.

“I was right,” he says, voice cracking. “All this time. Everyone told me I was wrong, that I was being delusional, but I was right. She’s my soulmate.”

“And now you’re miserable about it,” Peter mutters.

James lets out a choked sound that might be a laugh or a sob or both. “Because she didn’t want to be. Not like that. She touched me for the first time because she was furious. That’s not... that’s not what it’s supposed to be.”

Sirius finally sits. Slowly. Quietly.

He wants to say something. But what? That he understands? That he’s sorry? He doesn’t know what comfort would even look like in a moment like this. He’s spent so long chasing the idea of soulmates, of finding someone who would make everything else make sense, and now that it’s actually happened to James—look at him.

He’s shattered.

Remus slides closer to James and places a hand on his shoulder. “Just because that was the first touch, doesn’t mean it’s the one that defines you both forever,”

James looks at him like he wants to believe that. Like he’s desperate to hold onto something, anything, but the shock is still too fresh.

“I need to lie down,” he mutters, and he does—curling onto his side, facing the wall, his breath uneven. The boys don’t speak after that. The air is heavy, like someone’s cast a silencing charm that chokes instead of quiets.

He cries. Quietly, at first. Then with broken little sounds he tries to smother with his pillow. Until eventually, there’s nothing left in him. He just wilts, tension draining out of his limbs, and within half an hour, he’s asleep—face still blotchy, fists still clenched.

They don’t close his bed curtains.

Remus takes the book off his lap and folds it closed with a sigh. “This is all... bloody grim,” he mutters.

Peter nods. “I didn’t think it would hurt when someone found their soulmate,”

“It doesn’t,” Sirius says, his voice hoarse. “It shouldn’t,”

He stands slowly. Pulls his wand and begins to unfasten the enchanted buttons on his robes, too tired for anything else.

Peter looks up, and the moment Sirius pulls his shirt off, there’s a gasp.

Loud. Audible. Shocked.

Sirius freezes.

Remus sits bolt upright. “What?”

Peter’s eyes are wide. “It’s gone,” he says. “Sirius—your mark. It’s gone.”

Sirius turns to the mirror near his bed so fast it rattles.

And... it is.

The smear that had haunted his shoulder for his entire life—like ink spilled across parchment—is gone. Completely. Clean skin where for seventeen years there had been a swirling mess of fate.

His mouth goes dry.

“No—no, no, no—”

He twists, trying to see if maybe it’s an illusion, or if the mark’s somehow moved, but it hasn’t. It’s not there. Not anymore.

He met them. His soulmate. And he didn’t even know.

He stumbles back from the mirror, breathing fast. “Who—who—?”

But even as he says it, the memory flashes. Hard and hot.

Your shoulder hitting his as you shoved past him on your way to follow Lily. The disgust in your eyes. The sharp tension in your jaw. You hadn’t said a word. But you’d touched him.

And now the mark is gone.

Sirius stumbles backward and sinks onto the edge of his bed.

“Oh, Merlin,” he whispers. “No. No, no, no.”

Peter is watching him with wide eyes. “You never touched her before?”

“I didn’t know!” Sirius snaps. “I didn’t even realise it was you! I mean—her. You know who I mean. I am stressed.”

Remus is still sitting stiff-backed on James’ bed, but his attention has fully shifted. “You’re sure it was her?”

“She shoved me,” Sirius mutters, staring at his shoulder like he could magic the mark back into existence through sheer willpower. “Right after Lily slapped James. Just... barged past me like I was nothing. But she touched me.”

“And you didn’t feel anything?”

“Not at the time.”

“...Do you now?”

Sirius goes quiet. Slowly, he places a hand over his shoulder—over the empty spot where the mark used to be.

It’s warm. But not from contact. From within. A lingering hum of magic, like the echo of something once powerful now stilled. Or maybe it’s just his internal body temperature. He really doesn’t know right now.

“No*,*” he murmurs. “Maybe? I don’t know—”

Peter clears his throat. “Well... you found your soulmate. That’s supposed to be good, right?”

Sirius laughs—short and bitter. “She hates me.”

Peter winces. “Oh.”

“I mean, she doesn’t slap me in public, but she’s made it perfectly clear what she thinks of me and the rest of us.”

Remus leans forward, elbows on knees. “Maybe it’s not what you think,”

“She shoved me, Moony. Deliberately. It wasn’t a stumble, it was on purpose. And she looked at me like I was filth.”

Remus opens his mouth, then closes it.

The dorm is quiet again. Only the soft rhythm of James’ breathing breaks the silence.

Sirius rests his head in his hands.

“I’ve spent my entire life waiting for this,” he whispers. “All the rubbish my family taught me, all the coldness and cruelty—I thought if I could just find my soulmate, it would all be worth it. That I’d finally get to have something real.”

Remus moves to sit beside him.

“But it’s not like I imagined,” Sirius says. “She doesn’t want me. She doesn’t even like me. And I didn’t even know it was her. How could I not know? Isn’t that the whole point of soulmates? That you just... feel it?”

Remus is quiet for a long moment.

“I think,” he says eventually, “soulmates aren’t about one moment. They’re about choosing. About what you do with the bond once it’s formed. Fate puts you in each other’s paths. It doesn’t promise it’ll be easy,”

“I wanted it to be easy,” Sirius admits. “I needed it to be,”

Peter lies back on his bed, eyes on the ceiling. “So did James,”

Sirius glances over at James’ sleeping form—his face slack, the traces of dried tears still visible in the soft light from the window. And suddenly, Sirius feels sick.

They’d both spent so long believing that soulmates would fix everything.

But what if they don’t?

What if the person you’re meant for doesn’t want you back? What if you’re not who they want?

Sirius doesn’t sleep that night. None of them really do.

The dormitory stays dim and heavy, thick with unanswered questions.

—

You don’t realise anything’s changed until you peel off your shirt in the showers that night.

The steam clouds the mirror, thick and cloying, but your reflection is still visible through the condensation. You’re barely paying attention—too wrapped up in the tangle of emotion and disaster that had been the day. You’d barely managed to get Lily back to the dormitory before she’d started crying, silent and furious and heartbroken all at once, like she couldn’t figure out where the anger ended and the betrayal began.

You’d held her hand. Rubbed slow circles on her back. Said all the right things, and meant them.

You’re still thinking about her—about the look on her face when she’d slapped James, the silence that followed—when you glance in the mirror and see it.

Or rather, you don’t see it.

You freeze.

Your towel drops slightly, caught on your elbow as your hand lifts on instinct, fingers brushing the bare skin of your shoulder. Your breath hitches.

Because the mark is gone.

You stare. For a full five seconds, you try to convince yourself that maybe the steam’s playing tricks, that maybe it’s still there and you just can’t see it clearly, but no—your fingers sweep across smooth, warm skin. Nothing. No trace of the strange, smudged mark that’s been with you for as long as you can remember.

Gone. Just like that.

The only thing different today—the only moment it could have been—was in the courtyard, when you’d shoved past Sirius Black with all the venom you could muster and didn’t even look back.

You’d touched him.

Your stomach lurches.

No. No, no, no.

You grip the sink, knuckles whitening.

It can’t be.

Except, it clearly is.

You stand there for a long moment, half-naked and shaking slightly, trying not to spiral. Because if Sirius Black is your soulmate—Sirius Black, who’s been a menace since year one, who charms and pranks and flirts and smirks and acts like the world should kiss the ground he walks on—then what does that say about you?

Nothing. Not yet. This doesn't have to mean anything, not right now.

You inhale through your nose. Count slowly to four.

Then exhale. Focus.

This isn’t the time.

Lily needs you. Lily, who’s just had her own horrible soulmate revelation, whose best moment turned out to be her worst, who is currently lying on her bed pretending not to cry, refusing to talk to anyone but you.

You straighten up. Wipe the mirror with the corner of your towel. Look yourself in the eye.

Whatever’s happening with Sirius—whatever the universe just decided to dump on your lap—it can wait.

You have more important things to deal with.

—

When you return to the dorm, your hair still damp and sticking slightly to your cheeks, Lily’s lying on her side, facing the wall. Marlene and Mary have gone quiet, sitting together on the far bed, shooting you looks that speak volumes.

No one says it. No one has to.

They know too.

You can see it in the way Marlene’s gaze flicks to your shoulder, then back to your eyes. The way Mary’s lips purse like she’s holding something in.

You nod, barely perceptible. They understand. They don’t press.

You cross the room and settle on Lily’s bed without needing to ask. Her duvet rustles as she shifts slightly, and when you place a gentle hand on her shoulder, she doesn’t shrug you off.

That’s something, at least.

You sit in silence for a while. It’s not uncomfortable. Just heavy. Loaded.

Then she says, voice muffled and raw, “He laughed.”

You blink. “What?”

“When I slapped him,” she murmurs, turning slightly to glance at you. Her eyes are red-rimmed, lashes stuck together. “He laughed. I don’t think he meant to, but he did. Like it was funny. Like I was... like he didn’t even get it.”

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t think it was that.”

“Well, then what was it?” Her voice wobbles. “He’s always made it a joke, hasn’t he? Me. Us. His soulmate thing. Like I’m something he’s already won, just because some stupid magic says so.”

You squeeze her shoulder.

“I didn’t ask for this,” she whispers. “I didn’t want this.”

“I know,”

“I feel like he’s stolen something from me.”

You press your lips together. “He didn’t mean to,”

“That doesn’t change it.”

You don’t argue.

She sniffles, and you pass her the tissue you’d pocketed from the bathroom on instinct. She wipes her nose, then stares at the ceiling.

“What if this is it?” she asks. “What if this is who I’m meant to end up with?”

Your chest tightens.

“Then the universe has a really shit sense of humour,”

That earns a small laugh—barely there, but enough. Enough to let you breathe again.

“I don’t want to be bound to someone who doesn’t respect me,” she says. “Who thinks everything’s a game. I’m not just a puzzle to be solved.”

“I know,” you say again. “You’re allowed to be angry,”

Lily turns to you fully now, tucking her legs up under the blanket.

“Do you think soulmates are... inevitable?”

It takes a second before you answer.

“No. I think they’re possible. Not guaranteed. You still have to choose each other. Every day. Some people don’t. Some people can’t.”

She nods. “What would you do?”

You hesitate.

And she sees it. Sharp green eyes narrowing slightly. “Wait. You’re not—?”

You swallow.

“I found out in the shower,”

“Who?”

You don’t answer immediately.

She sits up straighter, frowning. “Who?”

“Sirius.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then, “Oh no.”

“Yeah.”

She flops back against the pillows. “You’re joking,”

“I wish,”

She groans into the duvet, hands over her face. “This is cursed. This whole week is cursed.”

“I know,”

“And you touched him?”

“I didn’t know, I shoved him—”

“Still counts,” she mutters.

You sigh, tipping your head back to stare at the canopy above. “This is my nightmare.”

Lily peeks through her fingers. “Does he know?”

“Probably. If his mark disappeared,”

“Bloody hell.”

You nod. “Yeah,”

There’s a pause.

Then: “Do you think he’ll say something?”

You snort. “It’s Sirius. He’ll probably write a speech,”

Lily doesn’t laugh. Not quite. But her mouth quirks in a way that feels close.

She lies back beside you and you both stare at the ceiling for a while.

The air between you settles. Still heavy, but softer somehow. Shared.

You don’t talk about the future. Or what comes next. Or what you’re supposed to do now that your entire understanding of the world has shifted in a single day.

You just are. Together. Grounded in the now.

And for tonight, that’s enough.

—

It’s weeks.

Weeks of sidelong glances and awkward tension, of group projects rearranged so the Marauders don’t have to work with you lot, of meals taken at opposite ends of the Great Hall, and corridors that somehow feel colder when you pass Sirius Black without a word.

You don’t speak. Neither of you does.

But you look.

More often than you mean to, probably. He’s always there—hovering in your periphery, just beyond the safe reach of indifference. And sometimes, when you do catch his eye across the classroom, across the courtyard, across the common room—your heart stutters. Not romantically. Not even longingly.

Just... confusedly.

Like your body knows something you haven’t given your mind permission to explore.

You haven’t let yourself dwell on it. Not properly. Every time your thoughts edge toward him—toward what it means, toward what it could mean—you feel like you might actually be sick. The whole situation knots your stomach. So you shut it out. Bury it beneath essays and exam prep and Lily’s slow process of healing. You focus on her. On your friends. On anything else.

But Sirius?

He thinks about it.

Constantly.

He obsesses, really.

At first, he doesn’t know why you haven’t said anything. He waits for a confrontation. An insult. A blow-up. Something. But it never comes. You just look through him like he’s a smudge on glass—visible but irrelevant.

So he convinces himself you’re disappointed. Of course you are. He’s a bloody wreck of a person. What kind of soulmate is he supposed to be? The one who hexed half the school for fun and made first years cry in the courtyard? The one who chased flirtation like it was a sport and never stuck around for anything real?

He’s not soulmate material. Not the kind you’d want, anyway.

So he watches you. Quietly. Miserably.

You, meanwhile, do a spectacular job of pretending none of this is happening.

Until, finally—finally—he cracks.

—

You’re walking alone to the library after dinner—quill case tucked under one arm, satchel banging against your hip—and Sirius intercepts you at the stairwell.

He doesn’t say anything straight away. Just blocks the path with one foot planted on the top step, the other resting two steps below.

You eye him, unimpressed. “Can I help you?”

He swallows. Runs a hand through his hair. It’s messier than usual. Less styled.

“We need to talk,” he says.

You glance past him. “I don’t have time—”

“I’m not trying to pick a fight,” he interrupts. “I swear. Just—listen for a second. Please.”

You fold your arms. “Fine. Talk.”

Sirius exhales. “I know you know,”

Your stomach clenches. But your face remains carefully blank.

“I know your mark’s gone,” he continues. “Mine is too. I saw it the night James’ disappeared. And you... you shoved me that day. I felt it.”

You stare at him. Unmoving. Silent.

“So,” he says. “We should probably have a conversation about what comes next,”

A bitter laugh escapes before you can help it.

“What comes next?” you repeat.

“Yes. I mean—if we’re soulmates—”

“If?” you cut in, raising an eyebrow.

He falters. “I meant... since.”

You shake your head. “No. See, this is exactly the problem. You think just because we’ve got some magical cosmic tattoo situation that suddenly we’re meant to be.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Yes, it is,” you snap. “That’s what you’ve always believed, isn’t it? That it would be this grand, perfect thing. That you’d meet your soulmate and everything would just fall into place.”

His mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

You press on.

“Well, I don’t believe that,” you say. “Because just because someone’s your soulmate doesn’t mean they’re right for you. It doesn’t mean they deserve you. And it definitely doesn’t mean you’re obligated to like them.”

Sirius flinches.

You cross your arms tighter over your chest. “And I don’t like you, Sirius.”

The words hang in the air between you. Thicker than fog. Sharper than broken glass.

He stares at you.

You expect him to be angry. To scoff or sneer or shrug you off.

But he just... looks hurt.

Not dramatic. Not performative. Just gutted.

It’s the quiet that does it. The way his shoulders fold in slightly, like you’ve knocked the wind out of him. Like something’s come loose inside his chest.

He drops his gaze. “Right,” he says, softly. “Yeah. Okay.”

You hate how your chest aches at the sight of him. Hate the part of you that wants to apologise, to take the edge off your words, to explain that it’s not really about him, but more about what he represents—the expectations, the fate, the lack of choice.

But you don’t.

Because it is about him. At least partly.

You step around him. “There’s nothing else to say.”

And you leave him standing there, alone on the stairs.

—

He doesn’t sleep that night.

He lies awake in the dormitory, staring at the canopy, James’ soft snores filling the space between the beds.

He replays your words over and over, like a record stuck in a skip.

I don’t like you, Sirius.

He’d spent years searching. Desperate. Starved for the connection his family denied. He thought finding his soulmate would fix him. Would make it all make sense.

But you want nothing to do with him.

And maybe that’s fair.

Maybe he doesn’t deserve it.

But for the first time in a long time, Sirius doesn’t wallow in that thought. He doesn’t spiral, or storm out, or pick a fight with someone just to feel something.

He makes a decision.

He’s going to prove himself.

If you don’t like him, he’ll become someone worth liking.

Not for the mark. Not because fate says so.

But because he wants to.

Because you’re brilliant. Because you didn’t fall over yourself at the thought of being soul-bound to him. Because you called him out. Because you see him, even when you wish you didn’t.

And because something in his chest—something ancient and aching—still hopes.

He’s going to show you he can be better.

He’s going to earn it.

— part two.

[xoxojuyo]

Out of reach pt.1 - jungkook

𐙚 summary: you meet the man of your dreams during a flight, but he seems to be out of reach…

𐙚 pairing: lawyer!jungkook x nepobaby!reader

𐙚 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THIS SERIES CONTAIN MATURE CONTENT

𐙚 word count: 1,8k words

𐙚 warnings: jungkook is older than reader, they get very comfy with each other super quick, hold ing hands, kissing, jungkook has a gf, infidelity

𐙚 a/n: this is meant to be a series, it’ll get filthy in the future. Hope you enjoy it 🤍 pt.II

The soft hum of the airplane engines filled the air as you settled into your seat in the first-class cabin of Flight KE902 from Paris to Incheon. You tucked your Hermès blanket neatly around your lap, ready for the long journey home. The lavish seat next to you was meant to remain vacant—an indulgence your parents had arranged for your privacy. After all, the daughter of South Korea’s leading pharmaceutical magnates and Cartier’s latest muse wasn’t accustomed to sharing space, much less during a 12-hour flight.

You glanced out the window, watching the Paris night fade into streaks of neon blue runway lights. You had just begun flipping through the latest issue of Vogue when a deep, polite voice interrupted your tranquility.

“Excuse me, miss. It seems this is my seat.”

You looked up, momentarily caught off guard. A man stood before you, tall and striking, with features so sharp they might have been carved from marble. His tailored suit spoke of understated luxury, and the faint shadow of a smile hinted at an effortless charm.

“There must be a mistake,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “This seat wasn’t supposed to be occupied.”

The flight attendant quickly stepped in, bowing apologetically. “Ms. Choi, I’m terribly sorry. This is Mr. Jeon Jungkook, one of our Diamond members. Due to unforeseen circumstances, we had to reassign this seat to accommodate him. I assure you it won’t affect your experience.”

You hesitated, your mind whirring. Jeon Jungkook? The name sounded familiar, but before you could piece it together, he spoke again.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” Jungkook said, his tone professional yet warm. “I’ll do my best not to intrude.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “Jeon Jungkook? The lawyer?”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by a modest nod. “I see my reputation precedes me. And you must be Choi Y/N. I’ve read about you in Forbes.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You read Forbes?”

“I do my homework,” he replied, settling into the seat beside you. “It’s useful to know the people shaping the world around me.”

You couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Flattery doesn’t work on me, Mr. Jeon.”

“Good to know,” he said, leaning back. “But who said I was trying to flatter you?”

The tension melted into a curious ease as the plane taxied for takeoff. As the flight attendants began their safety demonstration, Jungkook turned to you.

“Paris, huh? Business or pleasure?”

“An event with Cartier,” you replied, your voice laced with practiced grace. “And you?”

“Business, mostly. Though I was hoping for some pleasure before a client emergency pulled me back.”

You tilted your head, intrigued. “You don’t strike me as someone who gets flustered by emergencies.”

“I don’t. But I’ve learned that flying halfway across the world is part of the job description,” he said with a rueful smile. “And you? Flying solo?”

You hesitated for a moment. “It’s… just a preference of mine.”

Jungkook chuckled softly. “Fair enough. Let’s just say the airline played matchmaker tonight.”

You smirked, feeling the ice between you dissolve. “A bold assumption, Mr. Jeon.”

“Call me Jungkook,” he said. “If we’re stuck together for the next 12 hours, we might as well get comfortable.”

As the plane ascended into the midnight sky, the cabin lights dimmed to a soft amber glow. You adjusted the recline of your seat, sneaking a glance at Jungkook as he loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. He caught you looking and smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Long flight ahead,” he said. “What’s your go-to in-flight entertainment? Movies? Reading? Sleeping?”

“None,” you replied, crossing your legs elegantly. “I usually work or… just stare out the window.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Workaholic?”

“Efficient,” you corrected, your lips curving into a small smirk. “What about you?”

“Depends on the company,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks but masked it with a soft laugh. “And here I thought lawyers were all business.”

“We are,” he admitted. “But even we need a break every now and then. Maybe this is mine.”

You talked intermittently for the next hour, the conversation flowing effortlessly from topics like your favorite cities to your least favorite airline meals. Jungkook’s laugh was infectious, and you found yourself smiling more than you had in days.

At one point, the flight attendant approached with the dinner menu. Jungkook, ever the gentleman, gestured for you to choose first.

“The lobster risotto.”

“Good choice,” Jungkook said, handing his menu back. “I’ll have the same. Can’t go wrong with a classic.”

“You’re copying me?” you teased.

“Or I trust your taste,” he countered smoothly.

As the hours passed, your initial formality faded into a comfortable camaraderie. After dinner, Jungkook leaned back in his seat, glancing at the champagne flute in your hand.

“Celebrating something?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you said, swirling the golden liquid. “It’s not every day you survive a Cartier event without collapsing from exhaustion.”

“Impressive,” he said, lifting his own glass in a mock toast. “To surviving the glamorous life.”

“And to lawyers who manage to look good while working too hard,” you quipped.

You clinked glasses, your eyes locking briefly. You felt your heart skip a beat, a warmth spreading in your chest that had nothing to do with the champagne.

By the time the plane was over Siberia, the cabin had grown quiet. Most passengers were asleep, but you and Jungkook were wide awake, leaning toward each other as you whispered.

“So, what’s the first thing you’ll do when you get back to Seoul?” Jungkook asked, his voice low and soothing.

“Probably dinner with my dads,” you said. “We have this tradition where our chef cooks my favorite meal whenever I come back from a trip.”

“That sounds nice,” he said, his expression genuinely interested. “What’s the dish?”

“Kimchi jjigae, with extra tofu,” you said. “And you? What’s the first thing you’ll do?”

“Go straight to the office,” he said with a wry grin. “Not as exciting, huh?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. Something about you being so dedicated is… admirable.”

Your gazes lingered, the silence between you charged with an unspoken tension. Jungkook reached for the blanket draped over his seat and, without a word, tucked it around your shoulders.

“You looked cold,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

It felt natural when your hands brushed against each other on the armrest. Neither pulled away, and moments later, Jungkook laced his fingers gently with yours.

“This doesn’t feel real,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing.

“Maybe it’s the altitude,” he joked, though his voice was soft, sincere. “Or maybe it’s just you.”

Your heart raced as you looked down at your entwined hands. “Do you always move this fast, Jungkook?”

“Only when it feels right,” he said, his eyes meeting yours.

You and Jungkook were still wrapped in each other’s warmth, your voices a murmur as you traded soft laughs and tender glances. His hand rested over yours, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin.

But then, Jungkook’s phone buzzed against the tray table. His expression stiffened as he glanced at the screen, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“I need to take this,” he said, his voice tinged with regret.

You frowned slightly, sensing the shift in his mood. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, though his tone didn’t quite match his words. “It’s work. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He stood and slipped toward the bathroom, phone in hand. You watched him go, a strange unease settling in your chest.

Inside the restroom, Jungkook answered the FaceTime call. The face of a woman appeared on the screen.

“Jungkook,” she said, her voice gentle. “I was worried when you didn’t answer earlier. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, his tone measured. “Just caught up with work.”

The woman smiled faintly. “I can’t wait to see you. We have so much to talk about.”

He forced a small smile. “Me too.”

The call ended, and Jungkook stared at his reflection in the mirror, his expression conflicted. He lingered for a moment before returning to his seat.

You looked up as he sat down, your eyes scanning his face. “Everything alright?”

Jungkook hesitated, his hand brushing the back of his neck. “Y/N… there’s something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach tightened. “What is it?”

He exhaled deeply, unable to meet your gaze. “I have a girlfriend.”

The words hit you like a cold gust of wind. You blinked, processing, before narrowing your eyes. “What?!”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “But I can’t ignore how… how good it felt to be with you tonight.”

Your jaw tightened. “So you just conveniently forgot about her while holding my hand and—” you stopped, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t want to lie to you.”

You turned away, staring out the window as anger and hurt bubbled inside you. But even as the rational part of you screamed to push him away, your heart ached to stay close.

“Don’t say another word,” you said, turning back to him. “For the next hour, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Just… don’t ruin this.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly, but he nodded. “Y/N—”

“Shh,” you interrupted, leaning closer. Your hands found his, and despite the anger simmering beneath your skin, you couldn’t stop yourself from pulling him into a hug.

You stayed like that for a moment, the world outside the plane shrinking away. Then, almost without thinking, you tilted your face up toward his. Your lips met in a slow, hesitant kiss that deepened as you clung to each other, as if trying to capture something fleeting.

~

The announcement of your descent broke the spell. As you disembarked and retrieved your bags, an awkward silence stretched between you. Jungkook carried your carry-on for you as you walked toward the airport exit.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, stopping in the middle of the terminal.

“For what?” You asked, your tone sharp. “For kissing me? For holding my hand? Or for confessing you have a girlfriend after letting things get this far?”

“All of it,” Jungkook said, his eyes downcast. “I shouldn’t have let it escalate. But I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

Your breath hitched. “Then why can’t we—”

“Because I can’t walk out on her like that,” he interrupted, his voice heavy with guilt. “It wouldn’t be right.”

You stared at him, anger and heartbreak warring within you. “And what about me? It’s okay to just walk out on me like nothing happened?”

Jungkook’s gaze softened, but he took a step back, shaking his head. “I’m sorry y/n, If destiny brings us together again, I promise you I’ll make it up to you.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the crowd.

You stood frozen, your hands clutching the strap of your bag as your mind raced. You were furious, confused, and utterly disappointed. Yet, beneath it all, a part of you longed for the man who had just walked out of your life.

[lifeinked]

Why I Love Caitlyn, and Why You Hate Her

⚠️ READER DISCRETION: I am not condoning Caitlyn’s actions and behavior, I am simply exploring the depth of her character and explaining what motivated her pursuit of revenge.

There’s no denying the gravity of Caitlyn’s actions as they are unquestionably wrong. However, her character cannot be reduced to these actions alone. This sudden, devastating behavior of hers is shaped by a thread of complex motivations and circumstances, but many choose not to acknowledge this simply because of her elite background. 

Like many others, I initially overlooked the point of the gassing in Zaun, which I think is a crucial thing everyone must first understand before diving into the discourse over Caitlyn's character. 

The Grey, often misunderstood as being used indiscriminately, was strategically deployed against the Chem-Barons to limit collateral damage. Caitlyn chose precision over chaos, targeting those directly responsible for Zaun’s turmoil. Furthermore, Caitlyn didn’t kill the Chem-Barons; she captured them, with net-deploying bullets. While her methods are controversial, they reflect a calculated approach; mischaracterizing her raid as a reckless attack ignores these details.

This isn’t to deny or excuse the fact that Caitlyn did, indeed, gas Zaun. Who’s to say that gas didn’t seep into the streets where innocent Zaunites roamed, harming them in the process? It’s entirely possible that innocents were affected and devastated. However, my brief explanation is only added to gain better perspective over the objectives of the gassing itself.

Now moving on, despite her privileged upbringing, Caitlyn shows a genuine effort to understand and connect with Zaunites. She places her trust in Vi, a Zaunite she’s never met before, to guide her in her search for Silco. Her journey through the undercity opens her eyes to the struggles of its people, challenging her perspective.

In S1E4, when investigating the airship attack, she encounters an undercity resident and reassures him, “I can protect you.” Later in the season, when Vi gets stabbed, Caitlyn encounters someone formerly connected to Vi. He’s grown a distaste over himself due to his appearance, and yet Caitlyn embraces him with compassion and tenderness, as a silent sign of gratitude. Then, she surrenders her cherished firearm—her only means of protection—in return for a healing potion to save Vi. In S1E7, Caitlyn’s heartfelt monologue in her conversation with Ekko perfectly captures her hope and determination: “This city needs healing. More than I ever realized. Please, let me help you.”

When Caitlyn and Vi stand in front of the Council, Caitlyn declares: “Councilors, this is Vi. She was born in the undercity. Even though we failed her in countless ways, she risked everything to show me what life is really like down there. People are starving, sick, ravaged by Shimmer. They live in constant fear of the coordinated efforts of violent crime lords.” This monologue alone shows how Caitlyn embodies optimism, believing in the inherent goodness of people, even Zaunites. It also shows that she is very willing to fight for them; she sees helping Zaunites as an act of bringing justice and equality into this world.

Many overlook the depth of Cassandra and Caitlyn’s relationship, reducing it to a simple narrative of a daughter mourning her mother. However, Caitlyn’s mourning is more layered than that. Throughout her life, she has been rebellious, driven by a desire to uncover the reality her mother tried to shield her from. In S1E4, Caitlyn reflects on this by saying, “She’d do anything to keep me from seeing the real world.” Caitlyn’s defiance wasn’t just rebellion for its own sake—it was a stand for her ideals. She sought enlightenment and understanding, even if it meant stepping outside the privileged bubble her mother built for her. By venturing into the undercity and aligning herself with Vi, Caitlyn rejected her mother's own ideals.

Here's another scene in S1E8 that emphasizes this:

Cassandra: You're a Councilor's daughter. Your actions reflect on the entire body. Caitlyn: My actions? You know what else reflects on the Council? Its citizens living on the streets. Being poisoned. Having to chose between a kingpin who wants to exploit them and a government who doesn't give a shit!

In a way, her actions mirror Vi’s: just as Vi betrayed her people by working with the enforcers, Caitlyn betrayed her own mother by involving herself with Zaunites. Remember: The last time we see Caitlyn and Cassandra interact on-screen is during Caitlyn’s plea before the Council. And in that moment, Caitlyn was fighting to protect the very kind that would soon kill her own mother.

You say that Caitlyn’s drastic shift is unjustified, as she’s only experienced a fraction of the suffering Zaunites have been enduring. But that’s precisely the point! Her transformation shows how personal loss can drive the change of one’s entire character; she’s never experienced loss before which is why it feels so heavy for her. And unlike Zaunites, Caitlyn actually has the power to act on her grief. Zaunites have only known misery their whole lives. When their loved one dies, they know there is nothing more they can do but grieve. They don’t have an inch of the privilege and military support Caitlyn has. If you had given them the same resources as Caitlyn, they wouldn’t hesitate to bring ruin to Piltover. Simply put, they don’t fight Piltovans because they don’t want to, but because they can’t.

When Jinx takes her mother away, her compassionate ideals completely shatter. Having always sought justice and understanding for Zaun, Caitlyn feels deeply betrayed, as her faith in the good within every Zaunite is overturned. Her mother’s death becomes a turning point—driving her to abandon her ideals and adopt Piltover’s disdain for the undercity, finally understanding the resentment many Piltovans harbor.

We also tend to forget that, aside from losing her mother, Caitlyn has directly suffered under the hands of Jinx. Caitlyn was held captive by Jinx in Season 1—and God knows what was done to her during that period. In the tea party scene, we see Caitlyn break down in tears, visibly flinching when Jinx moves toward her. It’s clear that Jinx has traumatized Caitlyn not just once, but twice. These experiences deeply shape Caitlyn’s actions moving forward. The pain and fear she’s endured push her to a place where she’s willing to sacrifice almost anything, even if it means putting a child’s life at risk (Isha's) or severing ties with Vi.

While they share their differences, Caitlyn and Jinx are the perfect example of foil characters. Here’s an instance which proves this: Both allow themselves to be influenced by manipulative, powerful figures all while being in a vulnerable state of mind.

Jinx is haunted by guilt; her attempt to save her family only ended up killing them, leaving her with the crushing weight of self-blame. She clings to Silco, not because he was the father she needed, but because he was the father she wanted. Silco indulged her destructive tendencies, keeping her at an all-time high on the edges of chaos. Fragile and broken, Powder crossed paths with Silco at the right moment; he saw the perfect chance to mold her into someone bewildered, unrestrained, and astray.

Caitlyn has her own Silco: Ambessa, the ruthless Noxian leader with a brutal philosophy of war. Ambessa enters Caitlyn’s life at a pivotal moment, stepping in just as Caitlyn is grappling with the devastating loss of her mother. In a spiral of self-identity, Caitlyn struggles with the weight of Piltover’s expectations and her unresolved guilt over her strained relationship with her mother (as explained in previous paragraphs). Just as young Powder mourns her family, Caitlyn blames herself for the death of her mother. Caitlyn got herself involved with the Zaunites even when she was warned not to, and at the expense of her defiance came the death of her mother. Driven by guilt and a thirst for vengeance, Caitlyn steps fully into her role, declaring in S2E1: “I am a decorated officer. Leader of House Kiramman.”

Jinx and Caitlyn share a tragic parallel: they both lose everyone they hold dear. Jinx loses Vi, Vander, Claggor, and Mylo. Caitlyn is left without Cassandra, Vi, Jayce, Mel, and Tobias. Stripped of their support systems, they are left isolated, with no one to confide in or rely on. They become vulnerable, used as pawns in the larger schemes of Silco and Ambessa’s strategic games.

Caitlyn's inner turmoil is exactly why Ambessa’s manipulation is so effective. Caitlyn is compelled to take revenge, but she doesn’t know how to. And without anyone else to guide her, she places her complete trust in Ambessa's expertise. Ambessa doesn’t just give Caitlyn the authority and power to avenge her mother; she teaches her how to use them to their full potential. She toys with Caitlyn's vulnerability, making her adopt the Noxian values of wrath, bloodshed, and ruthlessness. 

It’s easy to downplay Caitlyn’s grief since she comes from an elite upbringing. While Cassandra Kiramman is laid to rest in a golden casket with a proper burial, countless innocents in Zaun become victims of merciless violence, being left to die on the streets. After the timeskip however, Caitlyn is shown to recognize the moral cost of her actions. Though the series portrays this realization subtly, it becomes evident that Caitlyn is grappling with the inhumanity and immorality of her pursuit of revenge. In S2E4, this internal conflict comes to light during her conversation with Ambessa. When Ambessa attempts to stoke her fury again, Caitlyn disarms her with a piercing question: “Why is peace always the justification for violence?”

Here's another scene that subtly depicts her realization and remorse:

Caitlyn: You're a monster. Why? Why do all this? Singed: Why does anyone commit acts others deem unspeakable? ... For love.

When Caitlyn steps further and sees Orianna, she realizes that Singed's revenge is a reflection of her own: a person grieving the death of their family member. Here, there's a saddened glint in her eyes. She finally understands now, that love and grief made her do things that once seemed so foreign to her. In this case, going against her own principles just to succeed in her revenge.

Caitlyn is now forever haunted by the outcome of her mistakes, but she knows her past cannot be erased. During her confrontation with Jinx in the prison, she admits, “No amount of good deeds can undo our crimes.” While this statement is directed at Jinx, it feels like Caitlyn also holds this against herself for her own wrongdoings. 

Caitlyn’s acts of atonement are done quietly. She’s not good with words; she’s bad at articulating how she feels. Ironically, Vi is much better than Caitlyn when it comes to confronting and vocalizing internal conflict. So instead, Caitlyn’s actions speak for herself. By removing the guards at the prison, she tacitly allows Vi the opportunity to rescue Jinx. She knows Vi will come to save her sister, and yet she lets her. She finally lets go of Jinx and the grudge she held against her, as a silent act of her love for Vi.

And in S2E9, Sevika is shown to be sitting among the Councilors. But thanks to a fan's keen eyes, we find out that she is sat particularly on Cassandra Kiramman's chair (which not many notice). By allowing a Zaunite to occupy her mother's seat, Caitlyn gives them a chance to be rightfully represented, a chance for their voices and suffering to finally be heard. It’s a quiet display of Caitlyn’s evolution and willingness to bridge the divide between Piltover and Zaun.

That said, Arcane’s ending left much to be desired regarding Caitlyn’s arc. The heavy focus on Hextech overshadowed the sociopolitical dynamics of Piltover and Zaun. This is the main reason a lot of hate is thrown toward Caitlyn—there is an act of accountability, but there a lack of consequence. While Caitlyn acknowledges her mistakes, her privileged status keeps her from real repercussions, unlike the tragedy other characters had to face. This is frustrating, even to me, as someone whose favorite character is Caitlyn. Yet, in a way, it realistically portrays the inequalities in our own world—where the elite are often shielded from justice, and repentance is the closest they ever come to redemption.

[chow0w]

do you have a design for whiteout? ive always been fascinated by her description in the books and id be so curious to see how you interpret it!

Thank you so much!! Whiteout has been requested SO many times, and I'm really glad I can finally deliver! @miscellaneous-dragon-art , @thegreatnature , @aldershadows , @fluffyjesterr , @sunnyfield , @oli-bird , @rhynee and a handful of other anons all requested to see her, and the moment has finally arrived...

First off, I need to be transparent and say that @axolotl-yawn's redesign is definitely what motivated me to get off my butt and stop ignoring Whiteout (The amount of requests DID make me nervous.) Please go check out their design!

Onto the thought process - I first started this design by considering what I liked the least about Whiteout's canon appearance, so that I could gauge some kind of idea of where I wanted to go. The high contrast and lack of color definitely bothered me (even though it makes sense she'd be a greyscale dragon, being ice/night. I need my colors.) I also felt that her hybrid features were a lot of this-or-that, and she lacked codominant features which could've potentially looked cooler. Obviously these are just my personal preferences! I tried to stay very personal with this redesign, since there's just so much Whiteout content already and I wanted to challenge myself to stay as original as possible.

With that in mind, I established that I was going to use a lot of semi-saturated colors, focusing heavily on blending her hybrid features as best as possible into something that reminded me a little bit of melting ice/thin layers of ice you'd see on a volcanic rock. To implement this, I gave Whiteout an ice-like underbelly and more swirl patterns than she probably needed, just to reinforce that slightly whimsy vibe she has and make her shapes/lines match darkstalker's description of her mind. I thought it would be fun to blend ice/night spines with Whiteout, and made hers equally curvy and sharp. There are tons of other little things - I could talk about the redesign forever, but this post is long enough as is!

Thank you all so much for supporting my redesign journey thus far - I absolutely love seeing you around and getting your suggestions! The pinned post in my blog tells you any redesigns currently waitlisted or made - but if you don't see your favorite there (or just want to ask anyways) feel free to hit up my inbox!

Also - my art competition is still going for a whole month! It's a challenge to draw any scene from any WoF book, which might interest some of my fellow artists who visit this blog!

Here's the invite link to my server, which you can use to submit any entries! https://discord.gg/AfyVWmftzn

Even though I made it for the competition, we're having a lot of fun playing wordle - so if you just want to chat, don't stray!

later! ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ

[piastriprincess]

fell  in  love  at  the  orange  show  speedway ⸻  oscar  piastri  x  reader .

featuring  oscar  piastri  ,  driver!reader  ,  she  fell  first  he  fell  harder  . word  count  2k author’s  note  wow  wow  wow  we’re  finally  here  !  this  is  the  culmination  of  my  birthday  build - a - fic  event  .  thank  you  so  much  again  for  all  the  love  on  the  event  ,  i  was  so  happy  that  everyone  was  interested  !!  it  still  blows  my  mind  that  so  many  of  you  are  excited  about  my  work  and  i  am  so  so  grateful  .  i  had  so  much  fun  going  on  this  journey  with  yall  and  i  really  really  hope  you  love  the  result  !  depending  on  when  i  hit  my  next  follower  count  milestone  another  event  may  be  coming  very  soon  lol  …  as  always  PLEASE  come  tell  me  what  you  think  and  lmk  if  you  want  more  of  this  reader  and  osc  <3  title  is  from  orange  show  speedway  by  lizzy  mcalpine  !

The email shines up at you like a spotlight, the kind that always makes you wince and look away.

F1 Rising Stars promotional photoshoot. Thursday, 12 PM, at the paddock. Hair & makeup will be provided; race attire required. And just below that, in the participants list: Oscar Piastri is attending.

You’ve read it so many times the words have begun to blur together, except for his name, which has remained annoyingly clear in your mind every time you close your eyes. You didn’t know it was possible to have a crush on the shape of someone’s name in your phone, but you suppose when it comes to your feelings for Oscar, you should stop being so surprised. 

The worst part is, it didn’t take much. It started last year, when you were new to the grid, the first woman driver in fifty years. A heavy legacy to carry on your shoulders, and an even worse one to carry alone. You were never much for the spotlight anyway, but when you got to F1 it felt like every eye was on you: not just to watch your performance, but to pass judgment about every single woman in motorsport if you put a foot wrong. The other drivers were polite but distant, like their reps had forced them to memorize the HR handbook before they were allowed to talk to you. Except Oscar, who walked you to the media pen when you got lost with a friendly smile, who gave you a fist bump and an “impressive drive” when you dragged the Racing Bulls tractor to Q3 in your first ever quali. That was it — since then, you’ve been disgustingly down bad, wearing your heart on your sleeve for him like it’s the team’s newest sponsor. 

Everyone can see it. Isack clocked it within five minutes of becoming your teammate. There’s a running bet in your garage about whether you’ll ever say more than six words to him at a time without blushing. Through it all, Oscar’s remained his lovely, friendly self. You don’t know if he knows, and you definitely don’t want to find out. You’re not sure what would be more humiliating: him being completely oblivious, or him knowing and politely pretending not to.

“Hey,” your performance coach says gently as she hands you a water bottle, evidently getting tired of you fidgeting with your phone for the better part of ten minutes during what is supposed to be a training session. “Don’t overthink it. It’s just a photoshoot.”

Just a photoshoot. Alone. With Oscar Piastri. The boy who makes you forget how to string sentences together when he smiles at you during driver briefings, all bunny teeth and big brown eyes. The boy you’ve been harboring the world’s most embarrassing crush on for months. With a camera shoved in your face, documenting your every move. 

“Right,” you sigh, shoving your phone into your bag and taking a long swig from the bottle like it will cool your flushed cheeks. “Just a photoshoot.”

You’re early on Thursday, of course. You’re always early when you’re nervous, and over the past few days the anxious buzz in your stomach has transformed into full-on nauseous butterflies. You’re nearly hyperventilating by the time you get to hair and makeup, picturing photos with your hair teased, siren makeup, and suit unzipped in the sultry way you know in your bones you could absolutely never pull off. But thankfully, they let you wear your hair the same way you always do, just smoothing a few flyaways and dabbing a bit of highlighter over your cheeks. “Natural beauty,” the stylist calls it with a proud smile. “Just like you.”

You’ve never been good at accepting compliments, and today is no exception, mumbling a thank you and ducking your head so they can’t see the blush on your cheeks. But you do look pretty, you think — at least, you look like you, just… a more confident version. 

The confidence goes out the window the minute you step onto the set. You’d thought your punctuality might buy you a bit of time, but Oscar’s already there, leaning against the prop car like a teen idol pin-up and talking to the photographer about camera angles, or lighting, or something equally important you should probably be paying attention to. You’re not listening. Instead, you’re cataloguing the way his race suit stretches over his broad shoulders, the way his hair falls in the perfect swoop over his forehead. Drinking in the details of his face so carefully that you forget to look where you’re walking, promptly trip over a lighting cord, and nearly go sprawling to the ground. 

Oscar turns at the noise, smiling at you in a way that makes your chest go tight. “Quite an entrance,” he says, and there’s a laugh in his voice. It’s not unkind, just amused, but your face feels hot enough that someone should probably pull a fire alarm. “You ready to be rising stars?”

You take a deep breath and straighten up, manage what you hope sounds like a normal laugh in return. “A-As ready as I’ll ever be, I think.”

The photographer introduces herself. She’s almost aggressively cheerful, treats you and Oscar both like old friends. It doesn’t put you at ease, exactly, but it soothes some of the anxiety in your stomach. “How about we start with some individual shots, get you both warmed up,” she says kindly, gesturing toward the backdrop. 

Your solo session is… fine. You’re not comfortable, exactly, but you know how to smile on command, how to look confident even when your palms are sweating and your fireproofs feel tight around your neck. Oscar, of course, looks completely calm in front of the cameras when it’s his turn, like he’s done it a thousand times (he probably has — you can hardly forget the Vogue photoshoot you pored over a few months ago). You can’t help but steal glances at him as he laughs with the photographer, at ease in this world in a way you’ve never quite mastered. 

“Let’s get some shots together,” the photographer calls, ushering you back to the car to stand next to Oscar. The first few poses are easy enough — standing side by side, crossing your arms, holding out your helmets to the camera. It’s awkward, though. Your chest feels tight, and you’re hyperaware of your body, of Oscar’s closeness. Every time his shoulder brushes against yours, your heart flutters completely unprofessionally against your ribs.

“Are you okay? You’re standing like you’re being held hostage,” Oscar mutters out of the corner of his mouth as the shutter clicks.

The dry humor takes you so by surprise that you forget to be nervous, giggling lightly. “Stop. I’m trying to be photogenic, Oscar.”

“Maybe just relax a little,” he says softly, eyes bright. “You don’t have to try so hard.”

The sincerity in his voice is evident, and now your heart is doing something indescribably stupid in your chest. You don’t say another word, but he keeps making those dry little observations about the poses, the overzealous assistant with the reflector, the way the wind keeps sweeping at his hair, and despite the camera flashing in your face it somehow makes it a little easier to breathe. 

“Let’s do something a little less formal,” the photographer says. “Oscar, can you sit on the back wheel there? Perfect. And you, darling,” she says, turning to you, “sit next to him, but angle towards him slightly. Like you’re having a conversation.”

You settle beside him, taking slow, deep breaths. You can smell his cologne from here, something clean and comforting that makes it very hard for you to think straight. 

“You really are nervous,” Oscar says quietly, in a voice reserved just for you, as the photographer adjusts her camera. 

You exhale slightly. “Terrified,” you say before you can stop yourself. 

He turns to look at you properly, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Never would’ve guessed, honestly. You’re usually so… composed.” 

“They have me well trained,” you say dryly, and he laughs like he wasn’t expecting it — wasn’t expecting you. 

“Well, they did well,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re pretty brilliant at it.”

Your cheeks flush, fingers curling tight around the edge of your sleeve. But you don’t look away. “Thanks,” you say, and mean it. “But I don’t know if that’s true. I don’t think the spotlight’s really for me. I’ve been here a year and I still always feel a bit out of place.” You wish you could take back the words as soon as you say them. You don’t know why you’re being so honest. Something about the way he’s looking at you, maybe. Like in this photoshoot with what feels like a million people roaming around, you’re the only person he sees. 

“You’re not out of place,” he says quickly. “Not to me.” Then his mouth snaps shut, and he blinks those big brown eyes at you like he hadn’t even expected the words to come out of his mouth. 

You don’t know what to say in response. It’s nicer than you could have imagined, something you wouldn’t have even dared to hope for in the secret moments when you close your eyes at night and picture what it might be like to have Oscar’s lips against yours. 

“Whatever you’re talking about, keep it up!” the photographer calls. “The chemistry is beautiful.”

Oscar flushes, eyes darting to the ground like he's only just realized what he said. You glance down too, pretending to smooth a wrinkle in your sleeve, the edges of your mouth betraying you with the start of a smile. Your hands feel too warm. Everything does.

You don’t look at him, not yet. You’re afraid that if you do, it’ll be written all over your face.

The sun is low in the sky by the time you’re finished, the photographer loudly declaring you two the easiest couple she’s ever worked with. You can’t meet Oscar’s eyes after you hear the word couple, settling for watching him rub at the back of his neck nervously out of the corner of your gaze. The two of you split up after that, heading back to the trailers. You change out of your race suit, and start packing up your things.

As you start walking back down the track towards the garages, you’re expecting that to be the end of it. Until you hear Oscar calling your name from somewhere behind you. 

For a moment, you’re expecting him to be holding something you forgot — your gloves, or a spare helmet, or something. But when you turn to face him, he’s empty-handed, standing a little awkwardly with one toe turned inward, the late afternoon light making his skin glow. 

“Hey,” he says, and it’s almost shy, like he’s gone over it in his mind a couple times the way you do when you’re trying really hard to sound nonchalant. “D’you wanna walk back together?”

“Sure,” you say softly, falling into step beside him. The sunset makes the paddock look like something magical, all golden and glittering. Your shadows stretch long across the asphalt, so close together they look like they might fold into one being. 

Neither of you say much, but it’s not uncomfortable. Just quiet. Easy. He walks you all the way to the Racing Bulls garage, even though you pass McLaren on the way there. 

“Thanks for walking with me,” you say somewhat reluctantly when you arrive. You’re not in any hurry to leave, but surprisingly it doesn’t seem like Oscar is, either. He’s dragging his toe against the gravel like it’ll keep him tethered to the spot. 

“Yeah, of course,” he says, and you can hear the hesitation in his voice. Like he’s on the edge of doing something he’s not quite sure of. You wait for just a moment, heart in your throat, but he doesn’t move. And then, just as you sigh and turn to go, he speaks.

“You know, I meant what I said earlier. You didn’t even have to try, and it was hard not to look at you.”

You’re only frozen for a moment before you whirl around, but it’s enough. He’s already walking away, but you can see even in the setting sun that he’s pink up to his ears. 

You smile to yourself, pulse thrumming wildly in your ears. All of a sudden, you don’t feel so out of place anymore. 

[thedivinetarot]

Light of my life, fire of my loins, my sin, my soul

Who is your future spouse?

☆How to chose the perfect pile?

1) Clear your mind.

2) Take a deep breathe.

3) Ask the question in your head.

4) Open your eyes and the picture that you are drawn to the most is your pile.

☆ Before you get into the reading you have to know the following:

- Please, please and I will say it again please do not think of anyone while you are choosing. Not your Ex or current boyfriend or even your crush. And I will say it again DO NOT THINK of any man as your future spouse if you want to have an accurate reading.

- This is a general reading so take what resonates and leave the rest. The future is not set in stone and the energy can change. This reading does not substitute any medical or professional help.

- I might do part 2 for this reading.

Stay safe ❤

Arya

Pile 1 - Bram stoker's Dracula

☆Where are you coming from? Your current love life:

I see that this pile have been lonely for quite some time and they are wondering if they will truly find someone. I see that you guys are overthinking everything about your love life and you are leaving no space for divine intervention. This pile’s energy is quite sad and tormented? You perhaps tell yourself that you don't need anyone but you truly want to build something stable and long lasting. I see that you feel stuck on I'm independent I don't need anyone mindset. Not because you really like being independent but because you are afraid of getting disappointed. The problem with this pile is the fear is literally paralyzing you and sabotaging any potential connection that can fit into your life. I'm also seeing that you might be someone who have been rejected and the pain of rejection is still vivid in your core memory. I see that you truly want love and to be loved! You might have a crush on someone with virgo or taurus placements. Or you might feel drawn to those type of men who embodies this archetype. I feel like you are kind of traditional towards dating. You might have had strict family or you really have a strong opinion regarding dating or hookup culture. This is your pile if you have strong virgo placements, water placements or the description fit you perfectly.

Who is your future spouse?

Pile one you might be manifesting your twin flame to be in a marriage with them? This person might enter your life so soon and above all you might get to know him online? I see that he might like your photos if you post yourself or he might just DM you through social media? This person is so grounded and stubborn. He is so earthy and stable in a generous way. He is the perfect mix between fire and earth. He is so childish or he aim to see infinite possibilities. I see that he is doing shadow work or he has been to therapy before. I see that this person is either a heartbreaker or been heartbroken many times. He is so naive or he seems naive? He might prefer texting over phone or video calls. There's an emphasis on his hair. He have curly and dark hair. His eyes are sleepy or he have sleepy eyes. There's something about his face, you see those people who have sleepy faces? Like they just woke up? I guess he might have that. He might look innocent and angelic. Like his aura is so comforting and serene. I also see that this person look younger than his age with hazel eyes. His style looks chill, like you see those guys who wear comfy hoodies? He might be one of them. I asked when will you meet him and the cards told me that you may meet him 6 months from now. You might be on a journey of self discovery when he enters your life. You might be losing weight and if you are not trying to lose weight; you might be trying to get in shape. I see that you are going to meet him after doing a lot of shadow work and inner reflection.

Pile 2 - The Addams couple

☆ Where are you coming from? Your current love life:

This pile is my daring and flirty pile. You might like your solitude but you flirt for fun. I see that most interactions that happen between you and the opposite sex are online. You might like to post spicy photos of yourself. Or send nudes to total strangers in public. You might like to take initiative in relationships. Even if you are a woman/female; you simply don't care about the traditional roles. Especially on who get to initiate to whom. If you like someone you are going to get them, I see that this is your moto. Also this might be your pile if you are stuck on a decision regarding travel. You might want to travel but you are juggling too many responsibilities and this is holding you back from actually pursuing that goal. If you are a man (since the dominant energy on this pile are men or masculines) you might be posting photos or nudes of yourself online. I see many risky photos and poses and if you are not a man or masculine then you might be doing the same action. You really value your own space; I see that you are protecting your peace at all costs. I mean yes you might like to flirt for fun with others but nothing really is serious and you are not looking for something serious either. This is your pile if you have significant leo or Aries placements.

Who is your future spouse?

Your future spouse is someone that you are going to meet through group project. At first as I said about your current energy, you are not looking for something serious so when you meet that person you'll find it kind of confusing. I see that you might be blinded at first. Like you might not notice them and if you are working with them you might not be attracted to them. They are not your usual type, they might be smart and quick thinker. This person knows how to take care of themselves. He might also know how to take care of women in general. Men might call him simp but he is no simp he is just so kind and empathetic towards women's needs. He is so determined, I see that once he put his mind on a goal he doesn't stop when he is tired, He only stop when he finish. I see that he LOVES to conquer a good challenge. He likes to to be assertive and he is looking for someone assertive too. He want his equal, his queen. He might look like he suit you? Wait let me rephrase it. You see that two people who are not dating but everyone in workplace ship them? You two might have intense chemistry. This person look like a heartbreaker. Eye color range from brown to gray or just those two colors. His hair is so silky or wavy. He have this confused look when he talk to you? He might even drag his feet while he walk, or he might look tired when he walk.

Pile 3 - Nosferatu

Where are you coming from? Your current love life.

Well, looking at the cards this pile is in their sweet feminine energy who wants princess treatment and to be spoiled. If this is not the case then this piles are for mothers or you are a mother or pregnant. If you are not pregnant and you are the girl who is in her feminine energy then I see that there's someone who wants to pursue you and he is so damn confident about it. I see that you guys are so confident in yourselves. Perhaps, you are someone who is working on their self esteem and self worth. I see that whatever the case you are in. It is going to pay off. For my girlies who are being pursued by someone I see that this person is very serious about you. He want to marry you quiet literally. This person sees you as his wife or future wife. I also see that this connection is meant to be and is distant to happen even if you are not aware of it. This person is quite civilized and diplomatic. He want to make you happy and cherish you, but if you don't want him it is your choice at the end of the day. I see a lot of happiness in this pile. Guys happiness is your middle name, since the energy or the cards I'm pulling are all yellow and yellow means happiness in tarot. Another energy I'm picking up on is that this pile doesn't really want to be strong and independent. Unlike pile one who is pushing themselves to be that way, this pile is accepting the fact that you want to be a stay at home mother or a rich wife of a rich dude. Most people in this pile are Venus dominant, have taurus or libra placement or have venusian energy in general. You guys might be the pretty girl in your friend group and everyone enjoys looking at you.

Who is your future spouse?

So right off the bat what I'm seeing is someone who have a lot of options. You know that one man who is wanted by every woman because of how friendly and charismatic he is? This man has this energy. It looks like this person is someone who has been heartbroken before and now he keeps his options open by befriending many girls and keeping his options open. He have the cup of love and he is so eager to give it to someone, I'm also picking up on someone passionate and eager to explore life. This person is sooo romantic in a cheesy way. I see that many times he attempted to get in a relationship but got afraid and back off from pursuing something serious. This person believes in manifestations or he tried manifesting an SO or future wife or this person really believes that he can create the reality he wants. This person gives off the vibe of a knight in a shining armor or a Disney prince tbh. This person look like a literal baby or he have baby features. He might have round or oval face. This man can be a little overweight or fat with blonde hair and blue eyes. He is so cute I'm seeing a picture of someone who look adorable and sweet. This person gives off the vibe of "I look good as a husband". But in general this person look so childish and baby like. Could look younger than his actual age? Or this person might be younger than you, but not so much like a couple months younger. He is so friendly or he have a lot of female friendships. This man gives off the ENFJ vibes Idk if you know mbti but you can Google it if you want to. He is so emotionally mature and caring. His energy is so nurturing. I asked the cards about when will you are going to meet him and they said he will enter soon into your life and one of the signs is a female around you is going to give birth or you are going to meet a pregnant woman or one of your relatives/friends will get pregnant. There's a NOTE for this pile specifically; if you are being pursued by someone this person is your future spouse. And if you are not being pursued by anyone then you might know who your future spouse is. And if you don't have anyone then take the reading with a grain of salt but you can enjoy it anyways.

Pile 4 - Hollywood couple

Where are you coming from? Your current love life:

This pile is truly stuck. I feel like I'm bored and desperate I want to cry. Like guys what is the matter? There's both boredom and stagnation. You might be someone who is really bored with how things are in your love life. I'm picturing a girl about 16 to 18 years old who want to be open to love but there's a man in her life (could be a male caregiver) who is very strict and structured. This man literally destroyed your well to date anyone. I feel like you are discouraged by the idea of love and I feel that you are unbalanced in a way? Like you are trying to protect yourself from getting hurt but at the same time you want love so freaking bad. I'm clinching my jaw and I feel like I want to scream and yell and kick things around me. Pile four why are you so angry? Please calm down! There's nothing in this life that deserve all this anger. Please take a break and go balance yourself and life. You are still young and have no experience and life is still long in front of you. I see that you might be waiting for something to happen; for someone to come in and rescue you from your life but nothing really happens so you pour all of your anger and resentment on yourself. Please stop hurting yourself and go find a hobby or something that can help you channel this anger and resentment. I'm picking up on someone who is bottling up their feelings and not really trying to express them. I also feel headache, do you have headache pile four? Are you bloated too? You might have significant leo and Aries placements. A little Taurus placements and sun, mars and sagittarius dominate. I feel like you are waiting and waiting but the waiting itself got bored of you lol. And you end up feeling devastated and angry. This pile’s energy is so rageful, please do some meditation or workout to get rid of that anger. You might also be scared of change? And overwhelmed by the idea of change? You might be someone who doesn't really like things to change and stick to a specific routine. Anyways let's get into the reading.

Who is your future spouse?

This person is very hardworking and workaholic. I see that the main focus in his life is his career, money and stability. This man is a little bit selfish, and he became like that because of how much he suffered. This person suffered from poverty, or he was very poor. He might even get kicked out of his family house so he can work and get them money. This person got bullied a lot by his peers and saw a lot of cruelty in his life, I feel so sorry for him. This person might be closed off emotionally, it is like he is trying to shelter himself from any possible heartache because of what happened in his childhood. I also see that when you meet him he might not be ready for anything serious or he might not really have healed fully from what has happened to him. There's an age gap here, he might he older than you or more mature. Like 4 years older. He might also be a co-worker of you? Or acquaintance If it is not then he might work with you in your field. The main challenge he is facing is stability, he want stability to be able to marry you. My advice for this pile is don't try to force things out if this person is not ready for commitment. He hasn't healed yet and his main focus is on the material. He might even use you if you attempted to help him financially so please don't. What really amazed me in this pile that this man is so materialistic, his love language can be gift giving. Now his appearance; this person look so cocky and confident. He have hazel eye color and sharp features. This person's back look hot or beautiful. He is not that tall, he is medium height. His hair is dirty blonde or chestnut brown. A foreigner? He might not be from your country. This man is possessive to be honest. If you met him after he get his ish together he will spoil you rotten but if not then don't try to help and heal him. You might meet him at the end of November to the most of December.

Post date: 25th/Aug/2024 - Sun

*Feedback is appreciated

[hoshigray]

𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐌𝐄 [& 𝑭𝑼𝑪𝑲 𝑴𝑬] 𝐔𝐏!! | tōji fushiguro

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: It's bad enough you got a crush on your gym instructor, Toji; however, it gets worse when things become too close and personal for this relationship...But who says you shouldn't get a little praise for your hard work?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: personal trainer! Toji x fem! reader - explicit contents; minors DNI - unrequited/crushing » mutual pining - sex in a public space (gym locker room + showers) - shower sex - thigh riding - oral (m! + f! receiving) - ball massaging - face + throat-fucking - breast fondling + nipple play - against a wall + upstanding citizen + standing 69 positions - praise - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - cervix fucking - pet names (angel, baby, doll, dollface, good girl, princess, sweetie, sweet thing) - unprotected sex (doesn't shoot inside tho) - overstimulation - cameos: Haibara and Ino (gym manager and employee) - the reader accidentally walks into the men's locker room (they're a bit dumb, forgive them, lol) - mention of sweat spit and tears.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.4k (i'm about to lose my mind, bro.)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: mannnnnn, the way this draft has been collecting dust, it was supposed to be released on Dec!! ofc my first fic back would be for toji lmao. anyways, i hope you enjoy, and tysm for 4.7k y'all are so sweet ;;w;; and thank yeww @ramonathinks for beta-reading, mwah mwah

“That one was weak; do another three.”

“Gahh– …You’re such an asshole, Fushiguro.”

“Heh, like that’s anythin’ new. C’mon, let’s go!”

We’re counting down to the last weeks of the year, and so many people have already promised affirmations for themselves in the upcoming year. In terms of this year, you can’t say much. You’ve done your work, hung out with the same people since last year, and probably learned to spoil yourself more. Maybe another thing you can be proud of is that you crossed some TV series off your “get-to-watch” list, so go you!

Although, besides those minimal things, there is one change in your life that you’ve committed yourself to. One thing that you didn’t expect to be so in tune with throughout the past half of the year. It started as a forced challenge because your friend Miwa needed someone to motivate her to maintain her gym membership. What was once something you’d thought a one-time thing gradually became something you enjoy — something you felt proud doing!

Not only has your knowledge of your body and how to keep it in good shape improved over half a year, but your love for the community has grown more and more. The gym you go to feels like a second home, with many people you’ve gotten to know and befriend along your journey. Even the manager, Haibara Yu, practically treats you like a sibling after seeing you every other day. The same goes for the front desk associate, Ino, who is the goofiest goofball you’ve ever met (not to mention the best drinking buddy). 

But – if you really had to pick – there is one person who has made this experience more enjoyable and worthwhile. “Hahhh!! There, I did them! Aren’t you supposed to be my spotter, not a shit-talker?”

“I’m doin’ my job, aren’t I?” Toji Fushiguro, your gym instructor for the past few months, has been a driving force in your physical journey. With his help, you’ve been disciplining yourself in and outside of the facility, maintaining a good diet, and keeping your body active in a balanced fashion. The gratitude you have for him supersedes all. But above all else, throughout the years, the two of you have gotten pretty close and know a good chunk about each other to call yourselves friends – at least, that’s what you’ve been doing. “Alright, that’s enough lifting for today; time for stretches.”

Aside from a friend, there is something else you refer to him as – something you’d rather die than admit out loud. Toji, your trainer, is your gym crush. Well, your crush in general. 

Can you really blame yourself, though? Look at the man! When you first look at him, his physique alone is enough to keep you staring at him for hours and hours on end. Strong, bulky arms that look like they could pick up five treadmills in one sitting and with veins that decorate up to his forearm can effortlessly grab the attention of the normal eye. He’s wearing his black fitted tee, so tight that it was as if it was vacuum sealed to perfectly showcase the outline of his abdomen, ribs, and pectorals. And it doesn’t help from the back view either; you can’t count how many times you fell into a short trance from admiring his gorgeous back, from his trapezius to his waist. Every time the man flexes his biceps and triceps, all you can do is internally thank the gods for sculpting such a man to be in front of you. And those beautiful thighs and calves shaped from his black leggings and shorts? Damn.

But the thing about him that has you squeak more than a mouse are his eyes. Forest green orbs that can shift into a stern concentration whenever he’s working on a machine or when he’s observing your form and finds whatever needs correcting. Then there are times when they are mellow and soft when you’re speaking with him or when he’s deep in thought about something until you catch his attention. Then he’d throw a small smile at you — your biggest weakness. The scar on his lip being lifted to a curl never fails to put your stomach into knots.

He’s such an attractive man from the first moment you ever laid your eyes on him. You were bound to fall in love with him one way or another. It just sucks that it’s under such a professional relationship that you have to keep this little unrequited love to yourself.

Which is getting harder and harder every day, especially now when the guy is so close to your face when he’s helping you stretch. Oh, dear lord. 

Every time you are done lifting weights, Toji will have you do stretches. He has you do them before and after a workout as they give your muscles time to warm up and straighten from the stress you put on them. So now, as you’re laying on your mat, Toji puts one hand on your right leg to keep it grounded on the floor and his other hand on the back of your left to push it up to your chest. The position has the two of you so close, him being situated between your legs and observing your breathing; it’s so wrong of you to dwell your mind into other things – other raunchier things.

And when he brings both your legs up to your chest, how the fuck are you supposed to calm your heart from exploding!?? You have to close your eyes during all this to not be pulled in by the examination of his gaze under his raven bangs. This is, without a doubt, the best worst part of the workouts. Thankfully, this is the last workout of the week, and the gym is about to close within an hour and a half. 

Toji breaks the suffering silence between you two. “Y’re still stiff; take deeper breaths f’r me.”

Oh, if only he knew how your dirty mind took that sentence. You chew on your lip with a gulp, “Maybe I still have a little energy in me that still wants to exercise.”

That made him chortle. “Is that so? Well, maybe after your stretches, you can get on the stairmaster for a few minutes.”

You gawk at him, only furthering the smirk on his face. “Are you serious!?? You promised we wouldn’t do any cardio until next week.”

“Well, next week is around the corner,” Toji moves your knees a bit to the left, bending them further down to your chest so his face could be a little closer to yours. Your brain almost short circuits at the movement, trying to distract yourself from the fact that his groin is mere inches away from your shorts. “So, since ya got the spirit, be a doll and do a few minutes on the machine, okay? Five minutes.”

Your breathing is so slow that you’re too scared to move. Your lips pressed to a thin line to conceal the quiver, and your eyes don’t dare venture down. You already know your body is going through its own internal turmoil, a throbbing sense occurring in your lower regions the more you keep looking at Toji, who lifts a brow from awaiting your response. Oh, this man is going to kill me.

“…Five minutes.” 

“Atta girl.” With a scoff, he finally straightens himself and places your legs on the mat. Toji then stands on his feet and grabs his bag. “Gonna head for the showers; finish up those stretches and head for the stepmaster. See ya later, Y/n.” And you watch him leave for the men’s locker room, finally having room to breathe. Before you can conclude your stretches with a cobra and child’s pose, you grumble to yourself in a whisper.

Why the hell did I have to fall in love with such a snarky, gruff, older guy like him…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You enter the locker room after completing the instructed exercise. Your mind is dizzy from walking on the step machine for about fifteen minutes, and your legs are mere minutes from turning into jelly. You curse Toji internally for the insufferable torture you’ve stressed on your poor limbs. 

No matter, though; you’re finally done for the evening and can head home to your soft bed. The gym will close soon, so perhaps you could use the locker room showers to freshen up. But then again, after the strain you’ve put on your body for almost two hours, all you want to do is be home and listen to your favorite music. I don’t feel like cooking today…  

Further into the room, you can hear the sound of someone using the showers, indicating you had picked the right idea to head home. You head for the locker side to grab your items to put in your bag before leaving, and it’s then that you hear the water stop running from where the showers are. Oh, shit,  make this quick, Y/n!

In front of you is the locker with the number you’re familiar with — where you always leave your things, like your own spot. You open it only to find….nothing is in the locker? Huh? Where are my leggings? And my phone??

Come to think of it, where’s your duffel bag that you usually leave on the bench against the lockers? You’ve never had a problem with people stealing from you in this place, so how does a bag full of your stuff magically disappear? There is a bag in here, but it’s definitely not yours. And now that you get a good look, you start to notice that the color of the lockers is of a different, darker shade than what you’re usually accustomed to. Wait a minute, am I in the wrong—

“Y/n?”

You go still at the familiar voice. Oh no, please, God, no. There’s no way. Your eyes teeter to the corner as you ever-so-slowly turn to the direction where that voice was coming from. And, of course, it was your personal trainer, who is—OH MY GOD!!!

Toji stands afar on the opposite side of you from the showers, without clothing, his body and hair completely drenched from water. The only thing that covers him is a white towel wrapped around his lower body. His body, which you’re used to seeing being snug tight by his gym clothes, is out for you to see as water trickled down from his clavicle, pecs, ribcage, and abs. For a split second, you take in as much of the image as you can, storing this as it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity in your mind (maybe to fuel more of your erotic fantasies when you go home). But you avert your gaze when your eyes travel down his abs, counting each one until you reach below his belly button, where strays of dark hair become more prominent with a trail down his pelvis and—Okay, stop looking, stop looking!!

“M–Mr. Fushiguro!?” You croak, eyes wide with realization at what you’ve just done. Your dumbass just walked into the men’s locker room without checking first. And to add salt to the wound, your crush is the first person to catch you in the act, “O-Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to walk in here! I’ll get going—“

“No, no, Y/n, calm down,” Toji walks to where you’re standing; a mini-heart attack was about to be deployed until the older man turned to the side to grab for something in his bag. He pulls out a smaller towel. “Ya walked in here on accident, right?”

You gulp, seeing the steam from the shower still leave from Toji’s nude body. “Uhm, yeahhh, I don’t know where my head was at. Sorry…”

The gym instructor scoffs at your apology. “It happens; must’ve been a bit light-headed from the exercise and forgot where y’re at. Heh, guess those five minutes did more damage than I thought.”

“Ahaha, yeah, it was…pretty….dreadful……” Were you distracted? Yup. Because Toji used the towel he pulled from his bag to wipe off the water from his arms and face. You couldn’t help but survey the man’s movements, watching the small white towel brush on his triceps and glide down to his torso. You continue watching the small towel until your eyes drift to the happy trail on his pelvis. Your breathing goes uneven, thinking of more indecent things that connect with the trail of hair and the limb that’s shielded by the towel around Toji’s waist.

“…–ou there…Y/n?” Your name said to you snaps you back, realizing where you are and what you were doing. Your eyes crawl back to Toji’s face, who throws a small smile at you. “Eyes up here, sweetie.” Sweetie?!? If the floor could give way and swallow you, that would be appreciated. “Is there anythin’ else you need to tell me while y’re here?”

No, I’m in the men’s locker room, so I need to hurry and get the fuck out! “Uhmm, n-nope, nothing at all! So…I better get going now. See you later, Mr. Fushiguro!” You turn on the heel of your foot to head for the door, only able to take about five giant steps before Toji stops you again.

“How was it today?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, what now!? You look over your shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“The workout. How was it?”

“It…It was, umm, alright, I guess. I feel like I could’ve done better on the weights.” 

“And why is that?”

Your body turns to have your front fully face him again. “Well, I mean, I was struggling at the last few reps…I’m sure you noticed, too, since you scolded me about it.”

He hums. “Ya know I correct you because, I know, you can do better, right, Y/n?” It was rhetoric, but you humor him with a slow nod. He brings the small towel to his head and dries his damp hair. “I’ve had many clients who come at me with everything they got or burned out before the first two months. But don’t worry, Y/n, I can tell you take pride in what we’re doing, and it’s good to know…” 

His words drown out from your ears. You didn’t mean for it to – you really didn’t. But while Toji was fixing his hair, you snuck more peeks at his body, enjoying his side profile. Admiring the way his arms move and flex, following the rocky silhouette of his abs that lead down to the towel again, you gasp at the dent of something that appears to be between Toji’s legs. Good lord, even with the cotton material covering him, you can still see it and—

“….Y/n.” Oh no, I did it again. You gulp with eyes venturing back to Toji’s face; the grin grew broader than before. “That's twice, sweet thing.” 

“S–Sorry, Mr. Fushiguro. It’s just that you have a...uhhh…” The heat in your ears makes it hard to concentrate on looking at the ground, anything to avoid your instructor’s gaze. “…..areallynicebody—“

“Hmm? I didn’t hear that, sweetie,” Sweetie? Sweetie!? Why'd he call me that? What you should be questioning is why that nickname made your stomach flip. But who are you kidding — if anyone had a crush on their instructor and were called a cute name like that, of course, they’d be as hot as a volcano. “Didn’t catch that, say it fr’ me again.”

“I–I said that,” Oh for fuck’s sake, this is so embarrassing! “You have a nice body…An attractive body, really…” The heat on your cheeks and ears is reaching heights that would have you combust at any moment. It’s what you’d hope for, honestly. It’s bad enough you’re stuck in the men’s locker room for not paying attention; now you’re here admitting to your instructor that you got the hots for him. God, please strike me here and now!

Toji says nothing after you say that, and it has your nerves at an all-time high, wondering if you should wait for his reply or just dash for the door and hope no one sees you leaving the men’s locker room. However, his voice breaks the silence, “I can say the same fr’ you.”

Oh, stop it. “Oh, please, no need to butter me up, Mr. Fushigu—“

“I’m serious.” He shuts down your argument down your argument before you can even finish. “C’mere.”

Why did you do what you were about to do? You could’ve just declined, exited the facility, and headed straight home to wallow away about this entire interaction, maybe find a different gym to form a membership with. But you didn’t. Instead, with downcast eyes, you slowly approached your instructor, who stood behind the locker bench. “Closer,” he says, noting how you’re about two arms length away from him, which you meekly decrease to one. “You don’t think ya got a nice body?” 

The adjacency between you two was too much for you, your face minutes from imploding. Too shy for words, you settle for a nod to give.

“How come?”

For God’s sake, this is not a conversation you want to have now with your crush instructor in the middle of the men’s locker room. “I…Well, Mr. Fushiguro—“

“Toji,” he cuts you off, discarding the small towel to the top of his bag. “Y’re over here tellin’ me I look good when you’re the one lookin’ like you could strike any guy that walks up in this place. Doncha think so?” 

Again, your eyes avoided his toweled figure, focusing on the tiled floor beneath your sneakers. “I guess, but…Toji, when compared to you, I—“

“Then that’s what ya shouldn’t be doin’, who told you to compare y'rself to others?” Toji brings a hand to your chin to make your avoidant peer placed on him, a move you were not mentally strapped in for. “I’m me, and y’re you, right?” 

“Right…”

“And that’s a good thing,” the hand on your chin slides down to the inside of your hoodie, his forefinger sneaking under the band of your sports bra. It makes your breathing stop. “But ya know what else I think?”

“What?” You sounded so low – so tiny – you didn’t know if he could hear you. He then brings his face close to your ear, and you could’ve sworn you almost felt your heart jump out of your throat. His free hand comes around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. The cotton of the towel now brushed your leg, and you could sink into a pool of embarrassment at the gasp you let out.

His voice was hoarse and low, the air from his nostrils grazing the skin of your ear. “…I think y’r body is the sexiest thing I’ve seen.” 

The sentence hit you like a truck, your heart almost giving in to a complete shutdown. “Huh–Ohhhh, wait,” Toji takes a nibble of your ear while his hand slithers your hoodie off of you, freeing your arms and covered chest where he creeps his hand inside next. You whimper at his fingers on your nipples that harden at his grinding touch. “Toji, wait, please wait…Do you really mean—“

“Mhmm, I do,” He coos, and a kiss to your neck nearly has you give way and lose balance; lucky for you, Toji was smart enough to have a leg between yours. “Now that I have you here, I’ll prove it.” 

“We’re—Ahhnnn…But we’re in the men’s locker room,” Toji brings his face up to look at you, your half-lidded eyes locked with his emerald orbs. “Someone could see us…”

Your worries are taken with a caress to your cheek. “Don’t worry about other people when y’re with me. I gotcha, baby.” 

“And I’m…Ohooo, really sweaty…”

“Nothin’ a shower can’t fix.”

And before you refute him again, Toji places his scarred lips onto yours, a shocked moan muffled as he kisses and sucks on your bottom lip. The hand in your bra now positions to the back of your neck, positioning you for him to deepen the kiss once you allow him access to your mouth. And once you kiss him back, all the reins of restraint have been discarded along with your hoodie to the floor.

The sounds of lips smacking get louder by the second, the passion in the kiss unraveling when you bring your hands to cup his cheek and have his face practically glued to yours. And Toji complies, shoving his tongue to tease and play with yours. The hand that was on your waist comes down to your ass for him to grope with the flesh, urging more of your sobs to be taken from him. Is it possible for your brain to turn into mush from a kiss? You’re finding that out now, breaking the kiss to gather whatever air you can before Toji claims your lips again.

The leg you’re riding on is nestled between your thighs, rubbing against the groin of your shorts. With every kiss and hump comes a grind on his leg, and it alleviates the growing ache that’s flourishing in your panties. Shivers travel up your spine and heighten your horniness, this elated feeling so dangerous that you could turn into putty at any second.

Toji lets go of your lips with a heavy pant, breathlessly snickering at his work; turning his cute client into a mess flipped a switch he’s been dying to indulge with. “Mmmm, y’re too fuckin’ cute, baby,” he wipes your mouth before letting you go; you hold back a whine when he removes his warm figure from you and steps back. It’s then that your instructor finally removes the towel that’s been shielding a now-discernible tent. The white towel meets the floor, and you follow his happy trail to meet with his erection, a sight that makes your jaw drop. The older man takes a seat on the bench behind him, and his legs spread out for his dick and balls to be ever-so-present and seen.

“Ya see how crazy you and y’r body make me?” He bites his lip, getting more turned on with you marveling at him and his length. “C’mere, angel, lemme see what you can do.” It takes a good mental slap to snap out of your frozen state and look at the thing you’ve been imagining all these months. Now, when the chance has finally been brought to you, how could you pass this up?  Following Toji’s command, you come close and go to your knees between his legs. 

The sheer size and girth of his length nearly put you in a trance, your eyes taking every detail of his erection before your eyes. Every dent and curve, the prominent veins from the underside, and the oddly pretty pink tip where bits of precum dare protrude from the urethra. Your raised hand has hesitance, yet Toji is quick to assuage your unease, taking your hand with his and wrapping it on his cock. The rough skin on your palm hitches your breath, “Hmmm, oh fuck. Yeah, just like that, princess.”

And there he goes again, egging you on with more cute pet names. Your hand slides up and down along his shaft from the tip to the base, and the sensation of its veins is so raunchy for your overwhelmed fingertips. Toji’s gruff hums to your touches stick to your ears the most, a sound you never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be lucky enough to hear. You want to keep hearing them, want them to be stored in your memory for as long as you can. And when you meekly tease his glans with a tiny lick, the hiss he expresses turns you on even more, so much so that you take the tip with patience and start to suck.

Toji throws his head back to the lockers behind him; the feeling of your tongue rolling around his girth as you inhale his cock is crazy. Fuck, it felt so good – he has to fight the urge to rut into your hollow cheeks and puffy lips. “Hahhh…Mmmm, damn….Ahahaha, ya know how to use that mouth of y’rs, Y/n. Keep suckin’ me off like that, and I’ll—Ohhh! Shit, shit, shiiiit,” he wasn’t prepared for you to take in his entire erection to the hilt. The tightness of your throat around him sends shivers, having to use the bench to grip onto.

You bob your head along his length, a hand accompanying the motions to further the exhilaration. Spit and come wet your palm, yet you’re too focused on the task to care, the haze of your brain increasing every time your lips meet the pubes of his pelvis. The jerk of his hips entails that you’re doing a good job, Toji bringing a hand to the back of your head when you kiss and lick on the head of his cock. You take note, assuming that it’s his weak spot, and continue to suck and tease the tip some more, massaging his testicles which almost had him choke. 

“—Hnnmph! Fuckin’ shit, I can’t…” Toji then has enough of this ribbing pleasure, unable to hold it anymore. With a careful hold on your skull, he stands from the bench and plows your face with his member. The harsh hit of his hips propelling his dick down to the deep crevices of your throat was sudden; the assault on your uvula results in your gag reflex; however, Toji was here to calm you down, “It’s alright, angel, breathe fr’ me.” He caters to you with a mediocre rhythm to the hips, the movement relieving the abrupt stress to your throat as you hum on his cock. You find purchase on his thighs to stabilize yourself while he plays with you orally, dialing up the pumps to your mouth until it reaches an erratic mood. Fuck, it has your head ringing, but the growing twinges and throbs between your legs practically excite you for more. Goddamn, it feels so good. So fucking good. “Jesus Christ—Y/n, I’m ‘bout to cum. Keep swirlin’ that tongue…Nnmmm, fuuck, right there, right there—Ahhhck!!”

His release comes with a few rough hits to your lips, his balls hitting your chin until they’re pressed against it. He pups his load into you, and you take it like a champ, letting the fluid venture down as the girth pulsates around your walls. His choked breathing eventually simmers down, giving it a few long seconds before he steadily removes himself from your warm cavity. The last remnants of his white substance paint your tongue, your saliva coating him. And with a voluntary swallow, you open your mouth again to showcase your clean change.

“Heh, didn’t even have to tell you,” Toji chortles, bringing a thumb to wipe your chin. “Good girl.”

KA-CHA! CREEEEK!!

Wide green eyes shoot wide along with yours, and the both of you go frozen rigid. That was most definitely the sound of a door opening. The door to the men’s locker room, where you are on your knees, in front of your personal instructor, with his dick out for the whole world to see. The blood in your body runs cold, and your stomach drops to the chilly floor. Oh, it’s over. It’s done. Your life is officially coming to an end. Welp, it’s time for me to think of a good suicide note when I get home and—

Pause on that. Because one moment you were thinking of your demise from this discomfiting situation, next you’re being dragged by Toji to the other part of the locker room, the showers. He swiftly opens a curtain and throws you both inside with a close, and the wet tiles soaked to your socks have you cringe, so you take them off.  

“Hello?” It’s a guy’s voice, of course — Ino’s. The young man is probably inspecting the male locker rooms before they close for the night like usual. You don’t dare speak so much as a letter when the footsteps draw closer to the showers, your heart rate spiking to a nervous high, and your breathing shallow. This is worse; now you’re in a confined space, face-to-face with Toji, who is utterly nude, towel left back on the bench. Your eyes locked with his, and your ears to the sounds of shoes entering the plane. “Anyone here? Saw some stuff at the front.”

“Yeah, I’m here,” your expression turns to sheer terror, wide orbs looking at the raven-haired man who spoke. No! Why would you say something!? 

“Hmm? Toji, that you?” Ino’s voice comes closer, in front of the shower curtain that shields you from his field of vision. Your heart is on the verge of dropping to your intestines. “You’re still here? Figured you’d be home by now.”

“Nah, I’m still here. Just about to finish up and head out.” Toji then turns on the faucet, cold peeps of water hitting your sweaty skin, panties, and sports bra. And, of course, it catches you off guard. OH FUUUUUU—  You don’t scream. You can’t. Instead, you shield your mouth and turn your back to Toji after giving him the most outstanding death glare of your life, which the older finds amusement in. You wipe your face from the water, cursing internally at this entire predicament. 

“Oh, okay, cool. I was just worried someone left their stuff on that bench over there. Carry on, and have a good night!” Ino dismisses himself and leaves the showers, and you exhale a silent sigh of relief. Oh, thank goodness…

Toji, on the other hand, sees your relieved state, and he can’t help but grin to himself with what he’s about to do. Moving closer to you, he brings his wet hands to your sports bra and immediately goes to fondling your breasts. A moan sneaks past you at the contact, prompting him to grope you even more. “T–Toji,” the water gradually gets warmer, juxtaposing with his cold fingers. “Stop, we have to leave, this is—Ohooo…” He tweaks your nipples with his forefinger and thumbs, and a leg sneaks in between yours.

“Relax, dollface, it’s just you and me here,” Oh, sweet Lord, you almost fell to your knees when he whispered to your ear and a teasing lick to your helix. “Got ya all to myself, now…” Toji kisses the crook of your neck, his wet hair brushing your cheek while he snakes his hand down into your panties. The way his fingers graze your clit again has you arch your back to him, another hushed shriek when he bullies his way between your folds. 

“Hey, Toji?” Ino’s voice again. Back to anxious stakes now that Toji’s toying with you. Goddamn it, Ino! What are you still doing here!? “I noticed you left your towel on the bench over there. But I also saw Y/n’s hoodie there.” Oh, fuck me!! Shit, shit, shit—"Ohhmph!!"

With quickness, you covered your mouth before your moan caught the ears of the front desk employee. And the reason for that is that Toji pulled down your soaked underwear and gave your chasm a sudden lick. If Ino weren’t back here, you’d give your personal trainer the nastiest kick to the throat you could ever do. But when he inserts a finger inside you, your aggression withered away in seconds. 

“Huh? Ohh, yeah, ‘bout that,” Toji stands back up and continues to finger you, chuckling at the sight of your trembling figure using the wall as leverage. “I saw ‘em before headin’ to the locker room. We talked for a while, but then they said they needed to change and told me to hold their hoodie for ‘em.” He says it so casually, all the while scraping your inner walls with the tip of his forefinger, summoning hushed cries that turn to silent screams when his free hand comes down to playfully pinch and press on your clitoris. God, this is too much torture for one night. 

Ino keeps questioning. “Really? I had someone check the other locker rooms, and she said she didn’t see anyone or anything except for a few personal items and leggings in one of the lockers. I’m guessing those would be Y/n’s, but where could they be?” Little did he know that you were just a curtain pull away from being found, chewing hard on your lip to quash your screams from the erratic swiping on your clit and the curving hits of his digits in your wetness.

“Mmmm, they probably are at another part of the gym or waitin’ for me at the front.” He lies effortlessly, yet his attention is still on you as he removes his fingers from you, the pleasure subsiding from the removal. Instead, he brings his erection in between your folds and humps you, and the feeling of his dick on your lips worsens the throbs in your awaiting cunt. With the heat coming from the shower and your uneven breaths, you’re bound to faint at any moment. 

“Ahh, makes sense. Alright, I’ll try and find them then,” you don’t say anything, just hesitant breaths when you feel the tip of Toji’s cock align and lightly push to your slick-coated entrance. Holy fuck, this is actually happening! Your lips quiver when Toji comes down to your ear to tell you to relax your body from tension, quietly maneuvering you by pulling your lower half to him. You do big inhales and exhales while the man pushes his cockhead to enter your cunt, wincing at the few seconds of pain that accompany each push. “See you later, Toji, and I put your towel on the hood next to your shower for when you’re done. Good night!”

“See ya.” And with Toji’s dismissal, Ino’s footsteps draw farther and farther from where you two are. And the moment you hear the locker room door slam close, Toji pushes the entire cockhead inside of you. Finally, you can squeal out to your heart’s content, balling your fists on the shower wall while your personal trainer wedges his length inside of you and stretches your walls. The girth was definitely something you knew would be an obstacle to accommodate, and it’s worse when your slit keeps clamping around the foreign limb invading inside. Tears begin to swell from the stinging touch, not that they would be distinguished by the shower water hitting behind you and Toji.

“Haahh, ahahhnn, mmmm,” Your wails seep out from your system right as the base of his cock kisses your lower region lips. And after a few seconds, he starts with a slow pace. Knowing that you can feel every dent and vein within you is insane to comprehend; the heat across your cheeks cranks up due to the euphoric sensations. “Ohhhh, my God, Tojiii. I’m so full…”

Toji pecks on your shoulder, “Yeah, sweet thing? I bet so. Just be a good girl and keep grippin’ on me like that, alright? Gonna start movin’ now…” His hips rut into your vagina, pulling his shaft slowly outward and rushing it back inward. Holy shit, it felt so dreamlike — having him actually move inside of you. But it was very much real; having his pelvis meeting the flesh of your ass was proof of such.

A hand snakes down to your clitoris, and a gasp leaves your lips at the brush of his thumb rubbing against it. Your legs tremble at the flick of his finger on your bud, and the pace of his thrusts crank up in speed, making it hard to concentrate on one thing. So many senses are being activated all at once; the shower water raining down on your back, the exhilarating combination of Toji’s dick grinding down on your insides, and the swipes and pinches on your precious clitoris. God, it was all too much. 

“Arch some more fr’ me, princess,” Toji gets up to push your back further down, the walls of your chasm clinging onto him as the more exposed opening gives room for you to be plowed. “Hnnmm, shit, feels so good…Hey, let’s try somethin’ different.”

By the time the last bit of his sentence could be registered, he already had you turned to face him, folding your arms around his neck. You didn’t know what for until he hoisted you up, and then you instinctively grabbed hold for dear life before your back hit the wall, your legs wrapped around him while he held you by the thighs. Toji brings his member back to your labia to insert it back inside, and you two moan at the contact again. Oh, this was different – never have you been lifted like this. And to be elevated by your gym crush, in this connotation, is enough to have you appalled.

But what made your breath hitch the most was Toji’s face being up close and personal. The bangs stuck to his forehead thanks to the shower water; his jet-black hair was wet and slicked. Trails flow down his face, drops of water plummeting from his nose and chin. And – oh, sweet Jesus – those green eyes of his, so striking as if they could pierce right through you. They were piercing through you. He took in your expression just as you were his, eyes filled with wanton desire, and it was all directed towards you – for you. He flashes a small smile, teeth peeking from beneath his scarred lips.

Oh, my God. You turn to the side to hide your face from his gaze; it definitely wasn’t the water that was making your cheeks and ears hot at that moment. But that didn’t fly with Toji. He sneaks into a rut that has you jump on his cock, the new position giving his dick an angle to hit your cervix. Because of that, the jab erupts a shriek you had no preparation for withholding. 

“Heh, aht, aht, don’t do that,” Oh, he knows he’s in control of this entire situation; you can hear it in his patronizing chortle. “Don’t hide that pretty face from me, doll,” he kisses your cheek and trails down to the crook of your neck. “Let me hear you—Aiishhh! Oh, fuuck…” 

Once Toji begins to jerk his hips to you, you dwell into a pleasure that you never knew existed. Toji’s length scrapes your inner walls like crazy, like a euphoric itch. The fact that you’re bouncing on the cock of your personal trainer is scary to comprehend. Having him see you like this, hearing you moan and wail for him, you never felt more exposed in your entire life. And also, him holding you like you weigh nothing and fucking you in the men’s locker room showers?! What the actual fuck!? This is actually so embarrassing – I could die! 

But why would you? The commotion between your legs feels way too good to bring this to a stop – you two are already joined in a union, so why stop? Every stroke to your slit sends a shiver up your spine, clamping onto him every time he brushes up on your sweet spots that make your nerves tingle. And the occasional jabs to your tender cervix? Damn, the stimulation was enough to have you faint with the heat growing tenfold.

“Mmmff, hoohhh, ohhhhh,” your cries are drowned out by the shower, only heard by Toji. Speaking of, this position gives you proximity to observe his expression. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes shut as if he’s in the zone. The huffs of breath he takes with every roll of his pelvis are so hot to the ear that you wouldn’t mind listening to them all day. Anytime the walls of your wetness clamp onto him, he moans and hushed curses at the feeling of you wanting him. He’s an attractive man, but, holy fuck, this was a sight you thought you’d never see in a million years. 

“—Khhhh! Hnmph, ahhhh,” Through the gruff pants, Toji opens his eyes half-lidded, catching you in the moment of staring right at him. You clench onto him; why does this man have to look so fucking sexy!? He smirks, “How we feelin’ now, baby?”

“Hahhh, I–I’m—Ohhh!! Fucking shiiiitt,” you cry out when he slams deep into you, making your toes curl, and your words come out in slurs. “It’s too muuchh, Tojiii, ughhh!! T–Tooo muuuuch…” 

“Ya gettin’ close?” Oh, yes, you were. You could feel it through the trembles climbing up your fibers. Your brows trench at the high, and Toji was mean enough to sneak a pinch to the clitoris without you noticing. Your legs tighten around his waist, and you shake your head hurriedly. He chuckles, releasing your clit from his rough fingers and putting his forehead to yours. “C’mon, angel, I won’t know what you want if ya don’t say it.”

Fuck, he’s such a meanie. You love it so fucking much. You mewl to him, “Pleaseee, Tojiii, I want it so bad!”

He lifts a brow. “Want what?” 

“—To cum!! Pleasepleaseee, I wanna cum on you, I want it—Ahaahhnn!!” Fuck, it’s coming. Almost there. 

That’s all he needed to hear, the grin on his face broadening at your response. “Cum on me, then. I’m right here to catch ya, princess.” His hand returns to your clitoris, pressing down on the delicate button to the point where all he can hear is your sweet screams of lust. His thrusts now get erratically fast, having you rebound to the hilt of his length, the smacks of skin slapping against each other fill the confined space of the shower. And the climb of your aroused high increases until it comes crashing down; you let out one last howl as the electric shocks course through your body, and your release is freed. Your walls squeeze hard onto Toji as you indulge in your climax; him pistoning his cock to your sensitive labia adds to the chilling sensitivity. Your cunt flutters around his cock while you experience your crescendo, your eyes screwed shut to enhance the experience, not aware of Toji watching you ride out your orgasm on him. 

The trembles calm down, the shocks subside, and your breathing descends into a steady rhythm. Throwing your head back, you rest your back against the wall while still in Toji’s hold, using this time to indulge yourself in this moment of clarity. 

Toji lets out a tiny laugh, bringing his face to your neck to suck on it. “That felt good, sweet thing?” You sigh out of breath, nodding to his question. “Hmmm, good. But ya know I’m not done, right?” Your blood ran cold, your body rigid still. Wait, huh? “I let you have your fun, so be a good girl, and lemme have mine.” 

The involuntary twitch of your slit should give you a clue as to how the news hit you, and you can't tell if it'll be him or the shower that will have you melting like a puddle by the time this is over...

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Haibara walks out to the front desk, where Ino hurriedly stuffs his phone back into his pocket, away from his superior’s eyes. Fortunately for the younger man, the older one didn’t see his device. “Hey, Ino, I got a question.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” The associate fidgets with his brown hair under his rolled-up ski mask.

“Have you seen Mr. Fushiguro and Y/n today? Toji told me he couldn’t make it for Monday night, but I haven’t seen Y/n that day or Wednesday.” The older brunette looks around to find any resembling cues, but his eyes see nothing that sparks familiarity. 

Ino blinks before answering. “No. And now that you mention it, I haven’t seen or heard from them since last week…”

Haibara leans on the desk and sighs. “Hope Y/n’s doing all right. Usually, they’d call or shoot a text telling me they couldn’t make it for their appointments with Fushiguro. But this is twice where neither of them show up.” 

“Hmm, can’t say I have an idea.” The other shrugs at his superior’s concerns. “I didn’t get a call or text from Y/n either, so maybe I’ll give ‘em one after my shift. Heh. Let’s hope they didn’t replace us with another gym.” 

With trenched brows, Haibara took offense to the younger brunette’s words. “Cut that out, man! I’d be pretty upset if they just suddenly stopped showing up here. Half a year of coming in and out and getting to know each other, only for them to just vanish like that…At the very least, they could give a call!” He passionately bangs on the front desk, giving Ino a startle.

RING-RING-RING!! RING-RING-RING!! 

The two froze at the sudden ring of the desk phone as if Haibara’s fist magically granted them a call. And by the exchanged glances they shared before Ino picked up the phone, they better hope it wasn’t the call they were expecting. “Hello, this is Golden Gate Gym. My name is Takuma Ino; what can I do for you?” 

“Hey, is that you, Ino?”

“Hey, Y/n!” Ino turns to Haibara, whose eyes share the same perplexity as his. “It’s good to hear from you; where’ve you been? You’ve been MIA for almost a week.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I had a little accident and sprained my ankle; I couldn’t come to the gym on Monday and Wednesday.”

“Oh, shit, for real?” Haibara watched the younger man’s tone change to concern, which didn’t help his nerves either. “Sorry to hear about that, but it’s a good call not coming here and taking care of yourself.”

“Yeah, thanks. Is Haibara there with you by any chance?”

“Uh, yeah. He’s right next to me, actually.” Ino takes the initiative to give the darker brunette the phone to speak with the one on the other side of the line. Haibara outstretches his arm to take the phone and put the receiving end to his ear. “Yo, Y/n!”

“Hey, Haihai. I meant to call you Wednesday, but I’m letting you know that Mr. Fushiguro and I are still doing our weekly appointments.”

Haibara sighs in relief internally, giving Ino a thumbs up. “Oh, thank God! You two had me worried there for a second. We didn’t see you guys here and thought you’d be a no-show again.”

“Yeah, sorry for the scare. Mr. Fushiguro found out about it and decided it would be….Haahhh….best for me to do my regimine at my apartment instead…”

“Well, that’s nice of him to look out for you with your ankle. I’m sure he’s doing what he can to—“

“Ahaahhnn!!”

A sudden yelp pops into the call out of nowhere and completely takes Haibara aback from the phone as if it was so out of place for the topic that was taking place. Ino notices it when the darker brunette gives him a brief perplexed look, which the younger shrugs at. “Uhh, Y/n? You busy right now?”

Oh, you were busy, all right. You’re at your apartment right now. Your ankle? Absolutely fine, nothing wrong about it in the slightest. The only change, however, is not being at the gym for this entire week and staying home instead. Why?

How about asking your personal trainer who has you propped upside down, standing up with his hands holding you by your ass, stuffing his face to your exposed cunt which he licks and sucks on. The feeling of his tongue digging through your labia has your hips jerking, but his strong arms exhibit unmoving effort in keeping your wetness in his mouth. His pants down to his knees, and his erect length in your hand and brushing your cheek. This is most definitely not the at-home exercise that Haibara is thinking of.

“…Hello?…Y/n, you there?”

Oh, shit! “Y–Yeah, I’m here! Sorry, my ankle is acting up on me—Ohhhh…Fushiguro’s looking at it for me…” Oh, please, he’s not checking shit; fucker indulging himself between your asscheecks, ravishing your folds like a sweet fruit to his tastebuds.

“Oh! So you two are exercising together right now?” Toji nibbles on your vagina and grazes with his teeth, having you gasp and twitch. His tongue surprising your clit prompts a choked whine. “That’s good to know then! Alright then, see you guys when you’re ready to return to the gym. And tell Toji not to put too much on you, ya hear?”

“—Khhhh, mhmm…I’ll give him an earful for you. See you later, Haibara…”

“Great, see ya. Happy Friday!” 

And with that farewell, you can finally toss the phone down and coo to your heart’s content, biting your lips at Toji stuffing his mouth on your bare chasm; his muffled groans vibrate your lower half like crazy. “Ohhooo!! Ohhhfuckkk, I’m gonna cumm,” your words slur with a suck to your clitoris, your hips bucking involuntarily. “Lemme cum, Tojiiii, I wanna—Ahaaaa!!”

He removes his face from your ass with an exhale as if he was dying for breath. But based on the grin plastered on his face, he wouldn’t mind being in this position for a little while. “Oh, I don’t think so, doll. I don’t think ya deserve to cum in my mouth.”

That was the last thing you wanted to hear right now. “Ahahnn!! You’re such an asshole, Toji…”

He chuckles crudely. “That’s where I’m gonna play with next if you don’t stuff my dick in that pretty mouth of y’rs already. Suck me good; then maybe I’ll let the princess cum all over me.”

Broad strokes from his pelvis rub his dick on your cheek, a reminder of your part of this endeavor that you must partake in. The smell of him overwhelms your nostrils into a pornographic trance, your head pounding just from looking at it. You gulp and take the tip into your mouth, sucking and licking the precum off while your hands glide up and down his shaft. “Good girl, good girl…” Toji goes back to smacking his lips on your folds, moving his tongue in whirlpool motions that have you moaning on his cock. God, it feels so good, so fucking good. You can see yourself becoming addicted to this, and that’s a bit scary seeing this professional relationship drift to something more touchy and personal…

…But then again, there’s nothing wrong with that, right?

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by achumuchi + dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[planetaryupscaled]

Newfound Wonder

Male OC x Newjeans Hanni

Tags: 9k, first time, creampie, dub con, tw

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

“Come on, hurry up already!” Under the watchful eyes of her friends, Hanni stumbled out of her parents’ house while dragging along a suitcase nearly twice as heavy as her petite body.

“Ye-yeah, I know, I know!” The stuffed container dragged across the asphalt while she put all remaining energy into pulling it towards the parked camper van just a few feet. After which she uttered a sigh of defeat upon realizing that she would still have to lift the suitcase at least a foot off the ground in order to haul it into the back of the rusty old van.

It sucked. It hadn’t even been her idea to go on this spontaneous camping trip, it had been her friend’s, Danielle. A childhood friend, she was pretty and clever, even if she had a tendency to always see the best in people.

Difficult to decline such an offer to be away from home for a day. At least sometimes, Hanni had to pretend that she enjoyed going out instead of sitting at home all day. Her parents were happy to remind her that doing new things, helps to turn you into a responsible adult. It’s not like her genes were making it easy to spend time outside even if she wanted to.

The sun is Hanni’s worst enemy. She’s like a vampire, just without any valuable superpowers other than the ability to get a sunburn twice as easily as her friend.

“Need a hand with that? I don’t want to be stuck here for the rest of the day.” The third and final victim to join the small adventure was Danielle’s boyfriend. A tall handsome guy — Minsoo. Pretty athletic and in very good shape, he enjoyed working out and has more flavors of protein powder at home than any sane person should possess. As to why he decided to start dating Danielle, it’s a mystery. He’s a few years older and already done with college. “Here, there you go.” Minsoo easily lifted the suitcase up and into the back of the van before returning to the passenger seat.

Hanni climbed in as well and took a seat herself, brushed some dust off her jeans and shot her friend a quick glare. Danielle’s family was seriously well off, it must’ve been an itch for nostalgia that urged her to rent a cheap old vehicle like this.

“There you are Han! You got all your stuff, then? I swear you’re gonna love this!” Danielle was grinning from ear to ear, giddy as a kid for this opportunity to go camping. Another advantage of having plenty of spare money — if she really wanted something, she simply went ahead and did it. It’s a surprise she managed to remain a grounded, decent person.

“I guess.” The engine gave a loud groan, but started dutifully and the trio’s journey began. Through the city and plenty of farmland, over a mountain and past large patches of empty land before eventually arriving in a dense forest, hours away from where they had left. It was a decently idyllic place, untouched by civilization. Bumpy hills and vegetation as far as the eye could see.

“You doing all right?” Danielle kept one hand on the steering wheel while handing her girlfriend a bottle of water, something to get by for another hour.

Hanni happily accepted the treat. “Are we there yet?”

“Add another ten minutes for each time you ask that question,” came the witty response. The road was getting rockier, harder to traverse without slowing down significantly. At least the atmosphere changed dramatically, lush colors were surrounding the area. Trees large enough to pierce the sky. If you pay enough attention, you could even spot a natural lake here and there.

Not like Hanni was paying any attention, she held her smartphone tightly and stared at the bright screen while playing games. Old habits die hard.

The car eventually came to a stop, and Danielle basked in relief at the sight in front of them. The road ended right into a large open space in the midst of towering trees in all directions. “That’s what I’m talking about!” she announced gleefully. “Told ya we’d find a nice spo-” she turned her head, glancing at her distracted companion. “...spot. Han! Are you even looking? Come on!” she insisted. “Look!”

Finally the distracted teenager lowered her phone and gazed out the window. “I guess, it doesn’t look half-bad. Good graphics, ten outta ten. Just be careful not to get eaten by a tiger. “

A sigh of frustration followed. “Tigers live in India and Russia. And apparently in your fantasy.”

Minsoo opened the door to exit the vehicle and a fresh breeze of nature greeted the trio. It was a damp, wild forest smell. It’s something you just don’t have in the city — no impurities, no weird unidentifiable stench around every corner. Just nature. He took a pleased deep breath. “Worth it.”

“Oh shoot!” Danielle reached into her pocket and rushed out of the car. “I almost forgot!” She began to frantically toy with her phone only to utter an annoyed groan. “I can’t get a signal! Crap. My parents wanted me to leave them a message before we go! Aw...” she whined. “It uh... it should be fine, I guess. I already sorted the important stuff before we left.”

In the meantime, Minsoo already opened the backside of the van to retrieve the tent and various supplies. “It would be even finer if you’d lend me a hand over here.”

Hanni used the opportunity to retort. “Ah-huh. The dude who is into weightlifting is asking girls for help? You can lift things ten times heavier than what I can carry!” she scoffed.

“Perfect, then you can grab the tent while I carry the heavy anchors and the hammer. See it as opportunity to show some...female empowerment or something.”

Hanni rolled her eyes at that and reluctantly climbed out of the car to follow his instructions. After the tent was set up and ready to go, Hanni waited to continue helping but was left dumbfounded. “Uhh- where’s the second and third one? Where are you guys going to sleep then?”

Minsoo gave her a quizzical look. “We...share one tent? Obviously? If you don’t spread your arms and legs in all directions we’re going to fit in just fine. Just please, try not to eat any beans before we go to sleep.”

Hanni face flushed a bright red, eyes wide open. She quietly turned and walked off, using the lack of knowledge of the area as excuse to go for a walk. Maybe she would find something of interest. Or perhaps...maybe not. It was an uneventful walk and she found little besides more trees and insects everywhere. Seriously a lot of bugs. It would’ve been nice to find a secret cave, or waterfall. Like in the movies. Alas reality was harsh and dull.

She returned an hour later to see that Danielle and her boyfriend had set up a proper campsite. A big log had been cut in half across the center, to create two comfortable makeshift benches. They were strategically placed around the campfire for maximum comfort. The large flame already helped to illuminate the nearby area, and the soft crackling of burning twigs and branches was a soothing sound to behold.

Both lovers were already seated by the fire and cuddling closely, Danielle clung tightly to her boyfriend’s arm and affectionately rubbed her cheek against him. “Dan! Did I miss anything?” Hanni approached and reluctantly sat down on the second, unused bench. The wood was hard, nothing like her computer chair.

“Not really. I think.” Danielle reached to the side and slid her hand into a bag of chips, retrieving a handful and leaning back to enjoy the view. “Oh! But! We did think about playing a round of truth or dare, if you’re up for it. Could be fun. Also a chance for you to get to know Minsoo a little better! It would be amazing for the two people I care the most about to become close friends too!”

He agreed as well and conjured a bottle of bourbon from behind the log. “Every time you get picked, you take a shot. To up the stakes a little.” Minsoo produced three shot glasses, and rearranged the seats so that each person would be seated near the tip of an imagined triangle.

Hanni watched on. “I...guess it’s too late to say no. Sure, whatever.” Once more did she take a seat, and Danielle — as host — went ahead to be the first one to spin the bottle. It pointed at Hanni.

“Do you have any secret boyfriend you haven’t told us about?” asked Danielle, grinning slyly.

Her friend shook her hand and furrowed a brow. “No? You’d be the first one to know. I already told you that I don’t have any plans to waste time on that stuff, not until after we’re done with college anyway, and that’s still years away.” Hanni leaned forward and gave the bottle a new spin, it pointed at Minsoo this time. “Since you two seem to be into asking private questions, here’s one. Have you banged yet? You two seem awfully close so I can only imagine that you’re going at it daily, like clockwork.” There was a hint of jealousy in the way Hanni said those words, and Danielle instantly averted her gaze and stared at the ground.

“Nope. She wants to wait.” Minsoo answered. Nothing else was said and there was a brief silence while Hanni was torn between nagging for more information, or leaving the topic alone. Minsoo reached for the bottle and gave it another spin, it spun and spun before slowing down and pointing at... Hanni!

“Hold on, I already had a turn just now!” Hanni objected.

“We are just three people,” he pointed out coldly. “Bold question you gave me. Have you even had sex yet?” His gaze was entirely focused at Hanni, and she had no choice but to lean back, completely taken by surprise.

It was Danielle who interrupted the awkward, tense moment. “Okay, okay. This was a bad idea. That wasn’t at all how you’re supposed to play the game. There’s also another thing both of you forgot, I guess now is as good as time as any.” Her slender hand reached for the shot glasses and she filled each one, after which she quickly drank one in a single gulp and poured herself another.

They sat there, quietly. For the longest time they simply looked at the campfire and listened to it. Occasionally drinking another glass of strong whiskey. Each one of them thought about something different. Hanni felt a deep pit in her stomach, awash with the guilt of prying into something she should’ve left alone. Danielle felt both upset, and embarrassed — her family valued chastity until marriage. An outdated concept, but not something that’s worth getting disowned for just to break it.

More time passed without any of them speaking a word, they kept going until the bottle had been emptied. Danielle managed to pass out while still seated on the bench. Her head was tilted to the side with closed eyes, and the empty bottle slipped out of her lap. Minsoo caught it just in time.

“That’s it, then.” He slid his arms underneath her and lifted her up. There’s no way she could walk, he had to carry her to the tent. “This night is officially over, let’s get some sleep,” he spoke, only to notice that Hanni was nearly equally smashed and moments from falling off her seat. Swaying from side to side, much like the subtle movements of the large flame in front of her. It was a dreamlike sequence, almost like watching a pair of innocent twins — the girl’s flowing mane scarlet hair and the identical red fire.

Hanni’s eyelids felt incredibly heavy. Each time she blinked, it was a taxing achievement to open them anew. Her vision became a blurry mess.

Every time she opened her eyes, she felt slightly more...at ease. Comfortable. She began putting more effort into narrowing her eyes, focusing her view, only to stare up at the ceiling of the tent they built earlier. How did she get in there, when did she get there?

Hanni raised her head up, straining to do so. Her entire body felt stiff and heavy. As she looked down, she stared back at her naked breasts, even though she couldn’t remember removing her top, or taking off her bra. Her legs began to move on their own, rising up...and there in the dark she could see two hands manipulating her body.

Minsoo looked back at her, while his hands were holding onto the waistband of her underwear to peel them off her body. Just like that they came free and he tossed them off to the side. With her legs still up like that, Hanni could look at her own crotch. Her hairless, bare slit was completely exposed. It took her another moment to fully comprehend — she’s completely nude, and Minsoo was able to look straight at her womanhood. “Wha...what’s happening?” she groaned. “What the heck’s going on...” she slurred drunkenly.

“It’s cool, relax. We are going to help each other out tonight.” Minsoo gently lowered her legs back down to the cushy blankets that layered the ground. “I totally get why you were asking those things earlier.” His hand reached for his belt buckle. As soon as it came loose, he removed his pants completely, followed by his boxers. As soon as that fabric was out of the way, his erection jumped into sight as it bounced in excitement. A shimmering fat bead of pre-cum rolled off the engorged tip of his organ and dripped onto Hanni’s inner thigh.

The rapidly panicking teenager reached to the side, reaching for her friend. “D...Dan!”

Minsoo swiftly grasped her wrist and pulled it back in. “It’s all right, she’s sleeping. This is going to be our secret. You want her to be happy, right? Since I haven’t gotten laid in... fucking months. But something tells me that you don’t care about meaningless shit like remaining a virgin, right? It’s ridiculous. Tiny bit of skin. That stuff shouldn’t prevent you from enjoying your life, yeah?” His much larger body size made it nearly impossible for Hanni to squirm away, with a simple grip on her wrist he was fully in control of her actions. It didn’t help that her petite, small body was a much easier victim to the alcohol they consumed earlier. It had barely any effect on him, but she had become an utter mess and could barely even remain awake. Minsoo’s grip moved up to Hanni’s shoulder and hips, and with a single push he rolled her over onto her belly. She could feel the pit in her stomach, her intoxicated mind was spinning out of control.

He spat, presumably into his hand, since she could soon feel his fingers applying something wet to her labia. He spat again, but this time he shoved a finger into her slit and began spreading the lubrication around within her vagina. There was an immediate resistance and she moaned in discomfort. “What the...fuck, man. I am not Dan.” Hanni crawled a few inches forward, but he chased after her and simply shoved his finger back into her to finish applying his saliva to her delicate insides.

“I know, I told you. She wants to wait with sex, but you don’t. Either we fuck, or I’ll break up with her since lord knows I need some action.” Minsoo withdrew his finger and inhaled the subtle scent of her pussy. It clung to his finger after what he did. Hanni almost retched at the thought that he now knew exactly what her pussy smelled like.

She drunkenly pulled her arms close and placed her hands flat on the blanket, attempting to push herself off the ground while cursing under her breath. Her muscles behaved like wet noodles, there’s no tension. The tent began to feel even darker when she noticed Minsoo’s large body hovering over her own and casting a shadow. One of his arms moved underneath her to pull her in for a tight embrace. Her breasts were squished up against the blanket because of the added weight on her back.

There was a pause, until she could feel something fat and blunt kissing the lips of her pussy. His dick. Another push allowed it to nestle right there between the soft embrace of her labia. He simply needed to keep applying more pressure and that mushroom-shaped head would follow the trail of spit, right into her snatch. “That’s...all kinds of mes...messed up, cut it out...! You’re... her boyfriend. Boyfriend,” she repeated twice. The world continued spinning even faster now. Hanni reluctantly took a deep breath and stopped trying to talk, she was moments from throwing up. Any more effort and she would lose control.

A wet smooch announced the sudden entry of his dick, her insides were immediately stretched to the brim to try and accommodate the bloated, smooth crown. “Ahnn! Nnnnh...!”

The tight grip of his hand suddenly pushed against her mouth, silencing her almost entirely. “I know, babe. The first time is always the hard part. It’s just like opening a wrapped gift, ‘kay? After you’ve opened the box once, there you go, it’s always going to be nice and... accessible, right? I’m gonna open that little gift you’ve got down there, okay?” The remnants of saliva inside her did little to help his advances, and her gaze constantly shifted back to Danielle still sleeping just a couple feet away. Would their relationship really come to an end just because he didn’t get laid? His reasoning almost made sense, maybe she should let it happen. She stared down at the pillow while struggling to decide.

An angry demanding shove forward, out of nowhere, suddenly sunk his entire length into the petite girl. Her fragile hymen tore and disappeared. Her pussy instantly clenched down hard, a futile attempt to expel the invader while she sharply inhaled through her nose. Everything inside her felt sore, stuffed, stretched! For the first time in her life, she had the entire length of a cock wedged into the deepest parts of her cunt. She hadn’t even noticed herself groaning into his palm, a sound of pure defeat.

While Minsoo remained still and completely sheathed within her body, Hanni gradually became aware of...more. The shape of his cock. Every ridge, every bump, every vein. She fit like a glove, that soft warm flesh of her deflowered womanhood offered a loving embrace around every inch of his manhood. It was an intimate connection unlike anything else she ever experienced. Even moments after his rough intrusion she could feel her insides rhythmically tensing up and squeezing down on his erection. Loving spasms that caressed his appendage despite her reluctance.

It’s like her own body was betraying her. Tightness, heat, stimulation. Her pussy freely offered him everything he could’ve hoped for, including plenty of convenient space to dump his seed into.

“Come on, come on...fuck.” Hanni was vaguely aware of Minsoo’s annoyed tone, just an inch or two away from her ear. His breath was caressing her neck, it felt impossible to tell how many moments had passed.

Every sensation, every feeling, all of her attention was centered on her crotch. It’s the only thing she could do to keep her head from spinning all over again. All nerves inside her remained utterly overstimulated, firing off like a million alarms while her pussy refused to relax. She was torn between terror, confusion and uncertainty. If only she hadn’t touched that stupid alcohol. Her mind was the only thing that even remotely functioned, her body was all but useless.

Was she supposed to try and struggle, or was she meant to accept her situation however cruel it may be. The choice slipped out of her grasp when she felt herself blessed with another unfamiliar sensation.

More wetness, deep inside her loins. It was warm and gooey, pouring into her. The result of months of forced celibacy. Cloudy globs of Minsoo’s sperm were rapidly spurting into her crotch and splashing into the deepest corners of her love tunnel. His cock was quickly delivering it all, pumping and pumping it through the entire length of his manhood and depositing it inside her. Minsoo kept himself hilted inside the unfortunate girl, to make the most of his premature explosion by relishing the grip of her cunt for as long as it would last. His masculine erection continually throbbed and thrashed against her tightness, dumping as much seed as possible inside her pristine cunt. It was his first proper climax in so long that he made sure to get the absolute most of it, the idea of pulling out hadn’t even crossed his mind.

The former virgin struggled to keep up. The warm and slippery sensation... it began to awkwardly spread and ooze into every corner of her womanhood...everything inside her felt sticky and gross. It dawned on her that she just received her very first creampie, willingly or not. Her pussy had succeeded in gulping down every drop of semen that his cock had to offer. He was the first man to truly inseminate her little cunt.

His sweat dripped onto her back and he collapsed, pinning her in place and sinking his dick just a tad deeper into her abused twat. He had popped her cherry for good. The aftermath of losing her virginity was nothing to write home about either...there had been no romance involved. He didn’t kiss or cuddle her. He didn’t whisper into her ear that he loves her.

Hanni is stuck with the sensation of warm goo sloshing around within her most intimate parts.

She wasn’t even on any birth control, and there had been nothing to separate their genitals when he ejaculated all that pent-up semen into the welcoming comforts of her pussy. They had been intimately connected — like only lovers should be. It absolutely messed with her mind that she hadn’t been able to put up more of a struggle. Her only comfort was that she had done Danielle a favor, essentially by taking care of her boyfriend’s needs. While Danielle receives the cuddling and love. Hanni was only there to satisfy his cock and to carry his seed inside her — that thought was the last thing on her mind before the last remaining energy in her faded away.

Absolutely drained and exhausted, she passed out with his softening appendage still being kept in place by the lips of her cunt. Those soft folds remained neatly wrapped around the very base of his dick, just barely tight enough to prevent him from going completely flaccid. Her limit had been reached long ago and her body surrendered, there was no way she would wake up again anytime soon.

And when Minsoo woke up an hour later, it only took a few strong, deep thrusts into her before he sighed his approval — moaning into the sleeping girl’s ear while allowing his cock to twitch and squirt another helping of fresh cum deep into her unprotected loins. Two more times did his insatiable need return, and each time he took full advantage of Hanni’s peachy cunt. Every time he managed to last longer. For her final ride, nearly half an hour passed before another creampie was forced into her.

She was in absolutely no shape for repeated intercourse, not after she had just lost her virginity. Her tightness provided so much friction that she had rapidly reached her limits, and it would take her a long time before she would return to normal down there. It was her first marathon fuck, and she slept right through most of it.

Her sleep had been restless, fueled by negative emotions.

It was only sometime in the late morning when she stirred and woke up, the pesky chirping of birds surrounded the tent. An intense headache assaulted her long before she even managed to open her eyes, and she regretfully remembered the night of drinking. Those cursed birds weren’t making the morning any more pleasant. She felt like she awoke from a terrible dream, her entire body was sticky with sweat and she looked around to find herself safe and sound in her sleeping bag. Her memories weren’t all there, she couldn’t quite remember what happened after the little game they played. “Dan?” She glanced at two empty sleeping bags nearby.

Hanni slipped her arm out of the tight comforts of her sleeping bag and unzipped the sides, but she winced as soon as she attempted moving her legs. Her crotch felt horrible bruised and sore! While trying to remember what had happened after the game by the campfire, she slid the zipper down to the bottom and took a better look at herself. All of her clothes were gone. Her perky breasts had nearly a dozen of bite marks and hickeys, especially her nipples — usually pink — were reddish and tender.

A soft gasp escaped her mouth when she lowered her gaze further and spotted the current state of her womanhood. It wasn’t the sight of a subtle slit, the unremarkable view she was used to seeing between her legs. Her labia was fully engorged and red, the swollen flesh was glistening and wet after an entire night of being stimulated. The intense, pungent smell of unprotected intercourse assaulted her nostrils and she coughed in protest. The usual, ladylike smell of her vagina was overshadowed by something else. Her cunt had the smell of a good few hours of fucking.

Upon leaning forward, she also spotted a string...a cotton string dangling out from between the raw lips of her pussy. A thick, sticky substance kept the folds of her cunt almost glued together and a pool of mostly translucent fluid had gathered underneath her crotch. She gingerly touched the string and gave it a gentle tug. There’s a familiar feeling somewhere in her tummy. It’s a tampon. And it’s pretty deep inside her. It was then that she noticed the...sheer wetness inside her. It’s like someone had popped a water balloon in there. This wasn’t the normal default state, this wasn’t even arousal. Her memories came flooding back.

She carried his sperm still inside herself. Millions and billions of those grotesque tadpoles. All of them swimming around inside her genitals, hoping to find an egg. He had happily transferred the contents of his testicles into her defenseless womb without thinking of the consequences. Hell, he probably had no sperm left inside his balls at this point, all those wiggly excited things were now safely stored inside her young and receptive vagina. And the tampon kept her nicely plugged up, giving his spunk all the time it needed to get the job done. The fool probably thought he was doing her a favor, a real gentleman, plugging her up like this so that she wouldn’t spent the entire night leaking cum.

Again she felt her stomach churning. Her highest priority was to get back to the city and to get a morning after pill. At least he had been right about one thing, she really didn’t care about her virginity all that much. Sex is just that, a physical act. Dick goes into vagina, both participants have a good time, dick pulls out and you’re done. Nothing special.

When she stood up, Hanni could feel the mass of goo shifting around somewhere inside her flat stomach. She’s gonna have to remove that tampon as soon as possible, this felt just too weird. It sent a cold shiver down her spine. It’s creepy that a guy had taken full control of her lady parts like that, and it felt even weirder to think that she’s carrying a batch of his DNA inside her crotch. Literally the only purpose of that stuff was to plant a baby in her tummy, it was repulsive.

Hanni carefully gathered her panties and her shirt and began to get dressed, enough to conceal the awkward cotton string dangling below and to hide the marks on her tits. Every step made her wince in discomfort, but she simply couldn’t leave the tent while naked.

Upon brushing the flap aside to peer outside of the tent, she spotted Danielle and her boyfriend by the campfire as if nothing had even happened. The two lovebirds were affectionately cuddling and whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears. It was a golden opportunity for Hanni to sneak just behind the tent, squat down, and to peel the crotch of her undies aside before removing the plug that had kept her sealed for lord knows how many hours.

A gush of liquids spilled out of her almost instantly, and she gasped at the awkward realization that nearly all of it was just...remnants of serving as that guy’s cum dumpster for a night. It poured out of her tender slit. The pressure faded rapidly, and as soon as it did, the stream began to trickle down her inner thigh to create even more of a mess. “No! No, no...shit.” This wasn’t at all like in the movies, why did she have to put up with this humiliation when she hadn’t even been the one to enjoy an orgasm? She reluctantly stayed put, awkwardly peeing out that guy’s cum for the next few minutes...

Simultaneously, Danielle experienced a whole different kind of adventure. She was entirely locked up in her own little world of fun and experimentation, knowing nothing of the struggle that happened just a few feet away. Her eyes were fixated on what was just a few inches in front of her face. “Are you sure? I didn’t think we would need this. I’m not even sure if it works,” Danielle laughed nervously, staring at the object of her desire.

“Yeah of course it’s going to work, Dan. Just try it.” Minsoo did his best to reassure her, right now there was only one thing he could think about.

“All right! I’m going to do it!” With a nervous grin, Danielle continued holding onto the heavy cast iron skillet before squeezing a big chunk of pancake batter out of the plastic bottle, which she held in the other hand. As soon as the thick fluid spread into a large enough circle in the midst of the pan, she moved the frying pan to hold it over the open flame of their wild campfire. Soon enough, the batter formed bubbles and she yelped in amazement upon flicking her wrist and successfully flipping the pancake in the process. She felt like a master chef. This was her world. This was all she ever wanted, pure joy.

“This is the best thing ever!” she cheered in bliss. Cooking in the kitchen just didn’t quite feel as special and raw as this. After preparing the first few pancakes, she also spotted her friend appearing from behind the tent. “Han! Breakfast is ready! I didn’t even know you were awake!” The petite girl approached on unsteady feet, more hungover than anyone else by the looks of it.

“Ye-yeah. Nice. Coming.” Hanni struggled to keep herself from walking bow-legged. The events of last night need to remain a secret for the time being, regardless of what’s going to happen in the future. Her gaze lingered on her bestie instead of the guy by her side — she couldn’t bear the thought of looking at the one who pounded her into submission just a few hours prior. She could still vividly remember the distinct feeling of his dick as it plunged into her over and over. Up until then, nothing had made her feel so out of control. But after what happened, it didn’t even feel like her pussy was still entirely her own. A part of her now belonged to him. She couldn’t deny that there had been some weird, primal connection between them. Perhaps sex was more than just a physical thing after all.

Hanni half-heartedly nibbled on her breakfast while sitting on her lonely bench by herself.

“Oh I almost forgot!” Danielle interrupted. “I got...some good news and some bad news, which do you wanna hear first?” she asked while looking over to her absent-minded girlfriend.

“I guess the good news? Are we leaving after breakfast? I need...to do something. We gotta stop by the pharmacy. I’m not feeling so well.” She took another bite of the pancake and lazily chewed the soft texture.

“Well that’s going to be a wee bit problematic. I mean you see, the good news is that you’re gonna get to enjoy the mountain air a little longer since we may be here for a bit.” A nervous laughter followed and a faint blush crept onto Danielle’s cheeks. “You see, I kind of forget the car keys in the ignition, so the car battery’s all dead. It doesn’t help that our phones can’t get a signal here. But!” she said while reaching an arm forward and raising her index finger to the sky. “Don’t you worry! I had told my parents where we are going. They’re on a trip for the weekend but they’re without a doubt going to pick us up as soon as they return! With some rationing, our food’s easily gonna last for two days! Two or three days and we’re gonna be rescued with an amazing story to tell! So yea, take the good with the bad, yup?”

Hanni’s heart sunk right down into the dirt beneath her feet. She doesn’t have two days, even one day would be stretching it. Remnants of his spunk still lingered inside her. At this rate she would’ve left home as pristine virgin, and she’s bound to return home as freshly pregnant teenager just a few days later. This camping trip had been just the worst so far.

She could feel Minsoo’s gaze stripping her again. He’s an asshole all right, and there’s no doubt he’s had sexual intercourse with her without a trace of consent, and his sperm has got to be one of the most vile things she’s ever had the displeasure of dealing with...but she couldn’t deny that having his cock inside her tender slit felt lewd, perverse...natural.

And now that Minsoo had gotten a taste of the paradise Hanni’s carrying between her legs, he couldn’t wait to get back in there and to continue where he had stopped. Strangely enough for Hanni, a tiny part inside her was actually beginning to look forward to it. There had been countless times when Danielle and her gossiped and chatted about that curiosity, about what it may be like to have sex.

Neither of them had ever been in a position to experience it, but now Hanni had a chance. Her memories of the first encounter were foggy at best...but simply by remaining quiet about the ordeal, she would soon enough be forced to repeat the encounter. While sober. Perhaps it would feel good this time. Better. It could even end up feeling amazing, like the only part she’s been missing her whole life.

Needless to say, breakfast had done nothing but to fill the teen with more anxiety and reasons to doubt both herself, and the situation she’s in. At least she didn’t have to worry about it until nighttime, or so she thought.

“All right...” Danielle glanced back at her childhood friend. Something was quite clearly upsetting her a lot, and Dan had nobody to blame but herself for the dead car. “Since we might be stuck here for at least two or three days, I guess we should try to make the most of the situation, right?” The reasons eluded her, but both her boyfriend and Hanni had been completely distracted. As far as she knew, they were bothered by the dire circumstances. “How about you two stick around and give it another try to fix the car battery? Han is good with electronics, and Min knows how to handle a car!”

She reaffirmed her beliefs with a confident nod. “And for the worst case scenario, I’ll go ahead and grab the backpack with some snacks and see if I can find a lake somewhere nearby. At least we can take a bath and clean ourselves if I find one. I did notice you two were a bit sweaty...but no pressure. It’s supposed to be a hot day today, so a bit of sweat is normal. I’m sure I will find something!”

“Wa-wait, already? I think you should stick around for a bit.” That nervous stutter was more than enough for Minsoo to realize that Hanni must have remembered what happened during the night — if the sticky mess between her legs hadn’t already clued her in. That simple thought was already enough to fill him with a familiar ache in his loins and an urge to bend her over again. On the contrary to his expectations, the rumors about the petite girl were true. Her pussy was the tightest he’s ever had, and the orgasms with her were addictive. He could still remember struggling to pull out of her in the early morning, it was like a damned vacuum seal, her cunt was practically sucking him right back in.

“I think that’s a great idea Dan,” Minsoo pointed out. “If anything happens, just yell and I’ll be right there for ya,” he added while leaning in to give Danielle a kiss on the cheek. She beamed with pride and quickly retrieved her backpack. She was determined to make them happy.

“Okay! Great! If you do manage to fix the car, don’t forget to pick me up before leaving!” The way he suddenly seemed to be at ease was enough motivation for Danielle to get right to it — if finding some fresh water would be enough to redeem her for her mistake, then that’s something she would happily do, without hesitation. “I’ll see you guys later, good luck!” With that, she took a quick look around the area before walking forward and entering the shadowy area of dense forest vegetation.

Which left Hanni entirely alone with the guy who had stolen her virginity. They sat on different benches just a few feet from each other, and he stared at her. There was no love or affection between them. No romance. What they both felt was little more than pure instinct, a physical need. They both had something which the other person needed, like two pieces of a puzzle.

Hanni could feel it. Despite her hesitation, her body was already taking over in anticipation of what’s likely to happen. She could feel the blood rushing into her crotch, her natural lubrication began to flow more freely, and a vague emptiness inside her was yearning to be filled. She didn’t even like the guy! Even less so after he casually blackmailed her. But her pussy was trembling and aching. Subtle contractions squeezed her pussy around an imaginary invader, and jolts of pleasure teased her from head to toe. Every spasm left her a little more breathless.

“Same deal as before. Get naked, or I’m going to break up with Dan.” A long moment of silence followed while her eyes wandered across the earthy ground, pondering her options. Almost in slow motion did Hanni eventually give in and surrender to Minsoo request. She hadn’t always been a perfect friend to Dan, but at least like this she could keep that relationship intact. Assuming he didn’t break his word. Plus, she couldn’t deny being at least a little curious about what sex is like without being drunk.

Her petite hands moved down to grab the thin fabric of her panties, and she gradually pulled them down her slender legs until she held the bundle in her hand. Even now, her peachy slit was glowing red and had dried white flecks of cum across her labia. Her inner conflict grew even more when his hungry gaze pinpointed that delicate triangle between her legs. “Just... just promise to keep it secret, okay? Don’t tell Dan...and you have to pull out! You can’t come inside me!” She quickly dropped a hand down to block the view at her battered womanhood.

This was a terrible idea, what was she thinking? She once more realized that she’s entirely unprotected, there would be absolutely nothing to separate them once he’s inside her. Bareback, that’s how they would be doing it. There was too much at stake, and she definitely didn’t want to get knocked up before graduating. She didn’t want to get knocked up at all. The idea was repulsive, she didn’t want to carry some guy’s DNA inside her belly for nine months.

“You are way, way overthinking this,” Minsoo told her while approaching. It was easy for him to pick her up, one quick arm underneath her knees and one to support her back, just like that he lifted her up and she yelped in surprise. He began carrying her towards the tent, the same place where he robbed her of her virginity. This is what he had always wanted. Not a girl in her mid-twenties, who already fucked a dozen guys and learned to rely on rubbing her clit just to tease an orgasm out of her twat.

He was Hanni’s first. He had a chance to teach her what she’s allowed to enjoy. In addition, her body was untainted and never endured all the chemical changes that can be caused by using a hormonal birth control. Plunging into her bare, unprotected cunny was as natural and desirable as it could get.

He could barely wait to bust another nut inside her, to force her vagina to absorb more of his spunk. It’s like a delicate ecosystem in there. Dump enough sperm inside and things will go haywire. He looked forward to filling her many more times. Until he managed to erase every last trace of the girly scent her vagina used to produce, and she’s stuck with the musk of his own semen continually escaping her slit. He loved the idea of completely owning her sexuality. Even if she were to sneak off to rub an orgasm out of her little cunt, she would be forced to inhale the warm pungent smell of his cum as soon as she got wet enough. It would be an instantaneous reminder that her pussy belonged to his dick and nothing else.

Hanni had no idea of the consequences if she were to keep welcoming him with spread legs and a bruised cunt willing to accommodate his fuck-stick, despite the discomfort his size was causing her.

“I ain’t overthinking anything, okay!? Dan is my best friend so this is something I do only for her sake. And you can’t come inside me! Do you even know how high the risks are? The average sperm count of a normal ejaculation is-” Hanni was instantly interrupted when Minsoo dropped her onto the blankets and zips the tent back up, closing the only exit. “Ou-ouch...what the hell, man?” She had dropped right on her perky bum, and rubbed the sore cheek. She didn’t even notice that she was sitting spread-eagled and gave him a good view of her pussy. There was a faint glistening, a shimmer of arousal. It was obvious that her body was at least slightly interested in repeating their previous encounter.

“It’s just sex, all right? What do you think a pussy is for anyway? That’s like...literally what it’s made for. I think you spent way too much time on the internet or something, just accept you’re not a guy. You are a girl. This is your purpose.” Minsoo began removing his shirt, followed by his pants. “You’ve got a perfect little cunt down there, so we’re going to use it. I’m going to use you. The less you talk during it, the better.”

A furious blush crept across Hanni’s cheeks. Did he seriously just dare reducing her to little more than what is between her legs? She furrowed her eyebrows. That charming personality he’s putting on around Danielle had all but disappeared, he didn’t even attempt to be pleasant. He spat into his hand and once more lowered it down to her crotch before thrusting two of his fingers into her, coaxing a gasp out of the startled teenager. He gradually moved those digits back and forth, spreading his saliva inside her.

“Did no one ever tell you that’s...gross and unhygienic?” She gazed down and looked at the vile combination of lubrication her pussy was coated in. A mixture of her own juices, his frothy spit, and old cum that had still been inside her. He was able to shove his fingers in much deeper than in the past. Her hymen was no longer in the way. He had made sure that one is permanently gone.

Even if he was right and getting laid is just a simple matter, it was still heavily nagging on Hanni’s mind that he treated her like a pile of meat. On the other hand, it was difficult to care a whole lot about having sex one more time, considering the...current state of her vagina. It wasn’t flattering. She was a sloppy mess down there. His choice of words was pretty spot on. This didn’t look like a cute virginal slit anymore. It was a cunt, one that looked like it had been fucked a few times, by a cock that had been just a tad bit too large to fit in properly. Nothing would change if she took him in just one more time.

It was so incredibly difficult to think straight with so many emotions in her head. She felt furious but excited. She felt shame and arousal.

He removed his underwear and revealed his cock once again, semi-erect. It was slowly pulsing to life, still growing and hardening. It’s the first time that she saw one in person, in broad daylight. It was veiny and grotesque, dicks are not an attractive sight. But it didn’t need to be. She knew where to hide his fat erection. Inside her.

A warm throb echoed through her crotch and she was reminded of that dull empty feeling inside her. It was disgusting how needy her body felt. It only grew stronger when she inhaled that musky scent of sex that still originated from her pussy despite her earlier attempts to clean up. It was their combined smell, their mingled juices, his cum as well as her own. Her vaginal walls were saturated with it, her pink flesh had soaked up every last drop of their intimate encounter and she knew that she would never again feel clean on the inside.

“Whatever,” the feisty girl added with her eyes embarrassingly glued to his appendage. She remembered his insulting preference to take her from behind, and reluctantly rolled over onto her belly. It was a mutual preference, at least this way she didn’t have to look him in the eyes while he used her. It only took him a few seconds to climb on top of her while he kept a fist wrapped around his chubby dick. He placed it right up against the entrance of her well fucked pussy, and unceremoniously shoved it inside with a single greedy thrust until her labia snugly engulfed the base of his member.

“Ahnn! Nnhaah!!!” Hanni tensed up, every muscle in her body went stiff, and it suddenly felt like her entire cunt was stretched to the brim to make space for his cock! However, she knew well enough by now that complaining or whining would just urge him on to be even more of a dimwit. Minsoo proceeded to hold himself there for a few more moments while she endured that unpleasant, sharp feeling somewhere in the back of her lady parts. Unbeknownst to her, he had managed to hilt his entire length within her — that smooth crown of his dick touched the end of her love tunnel, smooching her cervix. A milky bead of his pre-cum already escaped his tip, joining what he had dumped inside her during the night.

He began with slow, steady thrusts. Mechanically. Fucking into her and loosening her up from the inside. Every now and then he would change the position of his hips a little bit to the left or right, causing him to thrust in at an unusual angle and straining her insides further. Hanni didn’t make a sound, she was firmly biting down on her pillow to prevent herself from moaning out loud. There was a growing feeling of pleasure the longer he kept going, her pussy was surprisingly quick to adjust. It was humiliating to think that she was gaining something so pleasant out of having sexual intercourse with her friend’s boyfriend, it was so wrong but was beginning to feel so incredibly right.

Her bigger concern was that she noticed how it wasn’t merely the presence of his meaty package which turned her on so immensely, it was also the needle-like sharp pain whenever he pushed too deep. It made her flinch and groan into the pillow, but it felt so oddly arousing at the same time. It was a good pain.

His pace quickened, and his carelessness grew. Both of his hands grabbed a tight hold of her hips while he aggressively hammered into her snatch, filling the small tent with the audible sound of sex. His crotch slammed against her shapely ass repeatedly and audibly, akin to getting spanked, and it only drove her crazier. Hanni could feel herself reaching it, the peak, way up high and just barely out of reach.

But then he simply groaned into her ear and collapsed on top of her. He had finished just as she was about to have a good time. His entire weight fell onto her backside, which in turn pressed her breasts uncomfortably against the ground. They had been bruised already, so this pushed her right off track and ruined her orgasm.

Instead, she was treated to a warm wet sensation spreading inside her loins, and the dull throbbing of his appendage while he pumped wave upon wave of fresh cloudy cum into her receptive cunt. His balls contracted rhythmically, dutifully delivering his seed at a rapid pace, as nature intended. She immediately blamed herself more so than anyone else — she should’ve known better. Of course he didn’t pull out. This was her punishment. She’s his cum receptacle.

However, Hanni could feel her own excitement coming right back at the thought of him using her for nothing but his own selfish desires. It’s the first time a guy had ever shown such an obsession with her, even if that interest lingered mostly on her privates. She could feel her heart beating faster. Her skin tingled with desire. By sheer instinct she suddenly began to buck her hips back against him while inhaling sharply. Her own eyes widened in surprise as she felt spikes of pure pleasure thundering through her entire being, robbing her breath and making her acutely aware that she’d just climaxed at the mere thought of being used like this.

A small orgasm, but she’d undeniably gotten off to the thought of being his puppet. She enjoyed that he cared so little about her that he didn’t even bother to pull out. For a split second, she even thought she could feel his sperm as it began to swarm her cervix, swimming inside, chasing down the egg that may be waiting inside her. “Oh god...what the hell is wrong with my pussy, why does this turn me on so much,” she mumbled to herself, after which she immediately rushed a hand up to cover her mouth. She did not mean to say that out loud!

She waited. She couldn’t tell if Minsoo had managed to hear her words. He must have, considering she could feel his breath on her cheek. Slow and calm. “Wait, are you...” Raising an eyebrow, she twisted her head to glance up at his face and confirm her suspicions. He had fallen asleep, with his flaccid dick still lodged inside her womanhood and his weary testicles resting against her tenderized labia. She was uncomfortable, sweaty, and the obscene scent of unprotected sex began spreading inside the small tent...it couldn’t get any worse.

Until someone began unzipping the tent...and Danielle stuck her head inside with an innocent expression on her face.

“Where is everyo-” she interrupted herself, after which she at first coughed in disgust, and then took a step back. “What the...Han? Min? What’s going on?! What are you two...?” Her gaze lowered down to where their genitals were still connected. The vaginal lips of her best friend were horribly stretched around the thick penis of her boyfriend. She struggled to believe her eyes. Unlike Hanni, she was a devout religious person and had never even seen the privates of someone other than herself. Her world begun spinning, she felt dizzy, this couldn’t be...

“Da...Dan! This isn’t what it looks...no, I can explain!” as the girlfriend just kept watching from the entrance of the tent, watching the way her friend suddenly squirmed and struggled to try and get free from underneath her lover. Danielle stumbled backwards on unsteady feet before collapsing to the ground. The shock had been too much for her to endure. She passed out.

Her vision went black.

It felt impossible to tell how much time passed.

Consciousness returned only slowly and Danielle couldn’t manage to open her eyes just yet. She could however hear and listen well enough, to the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. There was also a distinctly wet and slippery sound, a perverse squelch that accompanied the rhythm. Danielle parted her eyes and found herself on top of her sleeping bag with a blanket to cover her. She was inside the tent.

And in plain sight, she watched Hanni on all fours, completely naked, with widely parted legs while being taken from behind. Each eager thrust from her partner caused a small shockwave to ripple up along her body, the force caused her breasts to jiggle and bounce in tune to the primitive pounding. She still couldn’t believe it. How could this have happened? Her heart broke into a thousand pieces, and shattered into another thousand each time she listened to the sound of their lovemaking.

“I’m breaking up with you,” Danielle spoke weakly, her voice trembling. “This is disgusting! You are both disgusting...!” Minsoo glanced at her for just a moment before gazing right back at the ravishing girl he mated with. He had a newfound interest in knocking her up. It was entirely new to him, but the idea of inseminating Hanni’s cunt and forcing a baby into her belly was hot. She had to be the most petite girl he had ever seen, and it was a thrill to think how she may look like with his child growing inside her.

“I don’t even care anymore, you should’ve introduced me to your friend earlier.” He began speeding up, feverishly fucking into that pristine pussy. There was no grace to his actions, this was all about taking charge. “It took a single day to get into her panties, and she gets off on being treated like a slut,” he added. “She’s prime fuck-meat. A perfect little whore.”

Right there between the teenager’s legs was their visible connection. Minsoo’s hairy crotch repeatedly met with the hairless opening into Hanni’s pleasure box. It was an airtight vacuum. Nothing escaped her, nothing else entered her. They had become one, together. Every inch of cunt meat inside her was stretched taut around his erection.

Hanni buried her face in the pillow, both to muffle her gasps and sighs, but also to hide her face. It stung that he was telling the truth. When he finally reached his orgasm to end the ordeal, he used his grip on her waist to sheathe every inch of his dick inside her while uttering a guttural, pleased groan. He injected her with multiple thick bursts of his semen, pumping her full until it was overflowing and dribbling out of her peach to join the puddle underneath her crotch. Hanni cried into the pillow upon feeling her own climax triggered by the sheer humiliation of it all. Her body shivered uncontrollably. She hated just how much she loved the discovery of her own perversion. It wasn’t going to end. She had gotten addicted to it. At this point she would do almost anything just to keep her womanhood stuffed with his prick as much as humanly possible. They belonged together.

And so, for the following three days, Danielle had no choice but to accept the new circumstances. She lost the two people she cared most about. Not only that, but she had to watch them — and listen to them — having sex for nearly the entire time up in the mountains.

The two lovers didn’t care for the lack of privacy. They went through every possible position, wherever they could, while keeping Danielle as spectator. The entire campsite reeked of their combined cum. When they ran out of clean clothes, they simply remained naked. It wouldn’t make a difference. Hanni kept a rich coating of dried semen along her thighs and her entire vulva was kept sticky and gooey. Minsoo had remained true to his words, every creampie was served directly into the girl’s twat while Dan had to watch helplessly.

When her parents came to pick everyone up, the car was dead silent. Overall, it was the complete opposite of what Danielle had hoped to achieve with the spontaneous camping trip. She never told her parents what happened. She cut off all contact with everyone, to focus on her studies. To distract herself. To pretend none of it ever happened.

Her only relief, bitter-sweet as it may be, was seeing a familiar face a few months later at the prom party towards the end of high school. Hanni wore her jet-black hair in a long ponytail, cute red blush adorned her cheeks. She almost looked like a princess. Almost.

Some girls envied her, others laughed at her. She was the only girl at prom with a big healthy baby bump.

[doberbutts]

Being transgender, being gay, I made my peace with a lot of things when I learned many hard truths about what life would be like for me the moment I chose to chase my own happiness and walk away from the sensibilities of my family and hometown.

I made my peace with never passing as male. With never getting top surgery. With never having a friend group that actually understands me. With never loving someone who actually wants who I really am. With never getting married, or having a family.

I thought I could be content with what little I could do, because it seemed like I wouldn't be able to do much of anything.

It will be two weeks from my top surgery tomorrow. And it has felt like I'm living in a dream the entire time. I suppose after years of dreaming about finally having a flat chest, having this now be my reality feels like one sharp jolt and I will return to the waking world where this was never going to be an option.

I look into the mirror and I just see- me. I undid my surgical garment to apply my scar strips and couldn't help but stare. That's me looking back.

My breasts were large enough to obscure the shape of my torso- so I really had no frame of reference for what I would look like without.

I hated the sensation of having my breasts and especially my nipples touched- and I know part of this is the nerves re-attaching- but it's so sensitive right now. Not painful, just sensitive in a new way that I never really felt before. And it does feel like I still have nipples, even though I don't. Where my nipples would be, there is sensation present that is similar to what I've always associated with my shirt rubbing against them.

I've chased and wanted this for so long that now that I have it, it feels unreal. It feels like tomorrow some politician is going to announce that I'll undergo a second procedure to put them back on.

But it also feels like freedom. The smile on my face when I look down and see my chest, the giddiness I feel when I remember that this is the first two weeks of the rest of my life.

I don't have full range of motion or strength back yet. I can feel my pecs twitching as I sit on my couch, and I feel a million sensations playing back and forth across my chest as the nerves do their thing.

I started my scar tape today just to see if I can prevent the hypertrophic scarring I'm prone to and have in other areas. But, even if I can't, I'm happy to simply be flat. I'll figure out the rest later.

Anyone who has been suffering quietly- I'm 32. I came out at 13. I didn't feel right being a girl before that.

It has been a long and arduous journey. But it is never too late to take your first steps.

You also can chase your own happiness. You deserve it.

[lunajay33]

Waiting🖤 Part.2

Summary: After decades of being alone without a love of his own he finally finds her in a gloomy town of forks, his brother Edward isn’t the only lucky one

Pairing: Emmett Cullen x f! Swan reader

Warning: angsty, fluffy sunshine Emmett

Part.1

•Masterlist•

Friday came and I was a nervous wreck, I didn’t care to tell Bella or dad about this seeing as Bella has already distanced herself from me and I didn’t wanna get dads hopes up, sitting in math class, the last class of the day I kept glancing at the clock ticking closer and closer to the final bell, trying to distract myself I delved back into the worksheet infront of me, soon enough the bell rang and my heart jumped

Anxiously I threw everything into my bag and left the school straight to the parking lot, where Emmett was leaned against his silver jeep, when his eyes landed on me that bright smile stretch across his face making his amber eyes shine

“Hey gorgeous you ready for the best night of your life?” I could feel the heat rush to my face only making his smirk widen

“Not like that y/n, not yet anyways, come on hop in” he said as he held the door open for me, quickly getting in the drivers seat next to me

“Sooo um what’re we doing?”

“Thought we could go hiking, maybe get out of the cloud bank into some sunlight”

“I love hiking! Sounds like fun” finally relaxing knowing now it’s something I’m use to doing

He drove for a while out of forks to a near by hiking trail not commonly used by the public, we got out and started our journey

“So tell me a bit about yourself Angel” he said breaking the silence

“Well there’s not much to know, I’ve lived here my whole life, my sister and mom left when I was young so it’s just been me and my dad, I became homeschooled until now and I usually just read and do homework”

“Not a big social butterfly I assume?”

“Not really, what about you? Tell me everything!”

“Well I have 4 adopted siblings, Jasper, Alice, Rosalie and Edward, you’ll love Alice she’s the sweetest, I like getting out into the forest, love music and working out”

“Yeah I can tell” I smiled glancing at his bulging muscles under his long sleeve shirt

“Woah she’s got some fire in her after all” he laughed nudging my arm

“What can I say you bring it out of me” his hand grazed against mine until he went for it and intertwined his fingers through mine

“Why so nervous pretty girl? Do I fluster you?”

“Maybe, I’ve never really done stuff like this but it’s nice” I saw his features soften as he looked down at me and gently squeezed my hand

“Really? A beautiful thing like yourself, I’m surprised you don’t have boys on their knees begging for your attention”

“I think you have me mixed up with my sister” I laughed nervously

“And who might that be because I don’t even need to see her to know your beauty is beyond anything of this world”

“Emmett stop you’re just trying to make me blush, and my sister is Bella, Bella swan she’s new to the school” he stopped dead in his tracks with a shocked expression

“Bella is your sister, like your actual sister?”

“So you already know her, not a surprise”

“No it’s not that, my brother Edward has been after her since she came at the start of the week, kind of funny how two brothers can like two sisters, but I must say I got the more beautiful”

“You’re too sweet Em, I can’t believe she hasn’t said anything”

“Edward is a very awkward secretive guy I’m sure Bella is the same way maybe that’s why she hasn’t said anything”

“Can’t say you’re wrong”

He looked me up and down trying to judge something, curious

“Do you trust me?”

“I only just meet you but yeah, I do”

In an instant he flung me over his back so I was clung to him like a monkey

“Hold on tight sunshine” everything flew by in a blur, there was no shape to anything with the speed he was going, but however he was doing this it didn’t scare me or make me wonder what the hell was happening, I actually felt at peace

Soon enough he stopped as we cleared the cloud bank and the sun was beaming, he placed me gently back down on my feet and turned around, his skin was like a million tiny crystals, I was in awe by how much more beautiful he became

“Are you scared?” He asked as his face scrunch with worry

I raised my hand and traced down his cheek feeling his hard cold skin

“No quite the opposite, you’re beautiful Emmett”

“Don’t you wanna know what I am?” He asked placing his hands on my hips

“Whatever you are I’d never judge, I feel you’d never hurt me so I don’t care what you are”

“How did I get so lucky” he stated as he lifted me like I weighed a feather, wrapping my legs around his waist

“What do you mean?”

“Us vampires have mates and the moment you bumped into me in the hallways I knew you were mine, the one I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with”

“But why me, you could have anybody”

“You’re everything I’ll ever need, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you Angel, and I’ll spend the rest of eternity showing you how amazing you are”

My heart swelled with the most love I’ve ever felt and I’m lucky enough to finally find the one who will brighten my life

Taglist: @whit0912 @serenadingtigers @twilightlover2007

[hamilton-here]

Heya, just another idea I want to drop in your inbox so I don’t forget about it. Lewis taking his famous girlfriend to the f1 premiere and the relationship has been secret before so eveyone is like wooooah they are dating???????! And he‘s supe protective of her (maybe also possessive when there’s men getting closer?) something like this, thank you

𝐿𝒾����𝒽𝓉𝓈, 𝒞𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓈, 𝒰𝓈

Authors Note: Hi lovelies! I have around 17 requests to complete😫. Y'all were keen for me to open my requests oh my lordy. Requests are definitely gonna be closed for a while. I can't wait to watch the F1 movie this Sat. Anyway enjoy! Apologises if this is somewhat short 😞Lots of love xx

Summary: At a high profile premiere, Lewis Hamilton and his partner navigate the chaos of fame, finding strength in their private bond amidst the public spotlight.

Warnings: none

Taglist: @piston-cup @hannibeeblog @nebulastarr @cosmichughes

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

It was one of those mornings where the world felt slightly off-kilter with a strange, humming energy hung in the air, buzzing quietly just beneath the surface, like New York itself knew that today would be anything but ordinary. Even from the safety of the hotel’s lavish suite you could feel it, the weight of what was coming, the undercurrent of anticipation threading through your every breath.

The floor-to-ceiling windows let in the soft morning sunlight, its pale glow stretching lazily across the minimalist décor - cream walls, cool marble counters and dark wooden accents. It should’ve felt calming. It should’ve made you feel like you had time. But the walls seemed to close in, your thoughts ricocheting off them as the clock’s relentless ticking filled the silence.

You were standing in front of the mirror, unmoving, almost like if you stayed still long enough, you could delay the inevitable.

Today’s the day.

Your eyes flicked to the dress draped neatly on the back of the bathroom door, which was a delicate, fluid masterpiece in soft gold, threaded with a whisper of shimmer so faint that it only caught the light when you moved. It was simple, intentionally understated, but the thought of wearing it made your chest tighten. The fabric was like your emotions of serene on the outside, but inside you were vibrating with nerves, spinning with every anxious what-if.

What if you stumbled in front of the cameras? What if people didn’t like you? What if, stepping into the spotlight next to him, made you more than just his partner - what if it made you a target?

From the other room came the gentle rustling of fabric, the soft thump of shoes against carpet as Lewis moved around. His presence, even unseen, always brought you comfort. Normally, he was the calm in your storm. But today? Today was different. This wasn’t just another gala, another appearance where the world expected him to show up alone. This wasn’t even about racing. This was his movie.

The F1 movie. The one Brad Pitt had starred in; the one Lewis had poured years into as a producer. The project that blended Hollywood with the fierce, unrelenting world of motorsport. Lewis had worked for this and fought to shape it, to tell the story right.

And today wasn’t just the culmination of that journey. It was the day your quiet, sacred relationship was about to be placed in the centre of the world’s stage.

You’d both kept it hidden for so long. It was easy, in private. In hotel rooms, late-night phone calls, tucked-away vacations where no one could reach you. But now would change everything. You would walk out of that car, and the world would see you.

Your fingers fiddled nervously with the hem of your robe. Was this really happening? Were you ready to stop being invisible?

The sound of footsteps nearing the bedroom pulled you from your spiral. You looked up just as Lewis appeared in the doorway, framed by the soft morning light, and for a second, it stole your breath.

He wore his pale pink jacket, the one with the diamond-studded goat symbol glinting just below his shoulder blade. He hadn’t needed to say it out loud, but you knew exactly why he’d chosen that jacket. He was stepping into the premiere knowing exactly who he was. He wasn’t shying away from being seen.

Paired with sharp black pants and his signature sleek boots, he looked as effortlessly commanding as always, but you didn’t see Lewis Hamilton, the seven-time world champion.

You saw your Lewis the one who remembered how you liked your coffee, who rubbed your back when you couldn’t sleep, who pressed quiet kisses to your temple when the weight of the world felt too heavy.

“How are we doing, love?” His voice was soft, but you could hear the edge of concern, the subtle way he was reading you like you were a puzzle he’d long since figured out but still studied, just to make sure.

You offered him a weak smile, brushing your palms down the sides of your thighs to ground yourself. “Just trying to get it together.” You glanced at the dress again, as if it might help settle your racing thoughts. “It just feels like something’s shifting, you know?”

Lewis’s lips quirked into a faint smile, and he crossed the room in a few strides, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders, his touch warm, steadying.

“You’re going to be amazing,” he said, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your cheek, lingering there just a moment longer than usual. “They’re gonna see you the way I see you.”

You let out a breathy laugh, the nerves still clinging to your chest. “I just don’t want to mess this up. I don’t know how to be someone people talk about. Someone they pick apart.”

Lewis gently lifted your chin with two fingers, his thumb brushing softly against your jaw. His gaze, deep and unflinching, held yours like an anchor.

“They’re gonna talk, no matter what,” he said, his voice velvet smooth but laced with quiet certainty. “But I’m not letting them near you unless you want them there. You don’t owe anyone anything. We’re in this together, yeah? You’ve got me.”

The sincerity in his tone loosened something in your chest. You nodded, feeling the edges of your fear begin to soften under his steady gaze.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Together.”

Lewis’s grin widened, and he dropped his hand to your waist, giving you a little squeeze. “Damn right.”

The simplicity of the moment, his unwavering calm, reminded you of who you were doing this with. If Lewis was willing to walk through the fire with you, you could handle the heat.

By the time you both left the hotel room, hand in hand, the hum of New York City had sharpened into a tangible pulse that seemed to vibrate through the streets.

It was no longer just background noise, but it was alive, a persistent rhythm that reminded you of the weight of the moment you were walking toward.

The sleek red car waiting at the curb shimmered in the late morning sun, its glossy surface polished to the point where it mirrored the skyline. Even from a distance, you could hear the faint pop of camera shutters and the sharp, echoing shouts of paparazzi, though they were still just spectres at this point not close enough to suffocate you yet, but looming, hovering on the horizon.

Lewis guided you toward the car with quiet ease, his thumb brushing across your knuckles as though it was second nature because it was. You’d walked together like this countless times before. Grocery runs. Lazy afternoons. Late dinners when no one was looking.

But never like this.

Never where the entire world was waiting to see you.

He reached for the car door first, opening it smoothly and gesturing for you to slide in. You caught the softness in his expression, the way his eyes flicked over you like he was mentally checking every detail, not of your outfit but of you.

Are you okay? Are you ready?

You didn’t have to speak for him to know you were on the edge of unraveling. You settled into the car’s cool leather seats, the door shutting behind you with a soft, final click that somehow felt heavier than it should have.

Lewis circled the car, taking his time as though he was deliberately drawing out these last few seconds of peace. When he slipped into the seat beside you, the space immediately felt smaller in a good way. Like you could breathe again, but only because he was there.

The driver merged seamlessly into the pulsing afternoon traffic, the streets of New York sprawling past the windows in a blur of yellow taxis, glinting skyscrapers, and pedestrians that didn’t know, or didn’t care, what was about to unfold a few blocks away.

Lewis’s hand found yours again, his fingers slotting between yours with the familiarity of someone who had done it in the dark, in elevators, in back seats always with that same quiet certainty. But this time, you couldn’t stop the trembling in your palm.

He noticed immediately, his thumb starting to stroke gentle, reassuring circles over your skin without missing a beat.

And then, without hesitation, he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. He lingered there. Not a quick, passing touch, but a moment, as if he could anchor you and absorb the nervous electricity humming beneath your skin.

“You don’t have to be nervous, you know,” he murmured, his voice low, steady, that slight rasp curling around the edges like smoke. The kind of voice that always made your chest tighten, though it carried something more. Something protective. Something that felt like a promise.

Your throat tightened. You tried to smile, but you knew he could see straight through it.

“It’s just this is the first time. I’ve never had to -” you gestured loosely, as if the words themselves were too big to properly shape, “be seen like this. With you.” Lewis’s brow softened, his thumb pausing momentarily as he studied you, really looked at you.

“You’ve got nothing to prove to them,” he said, his tone quietly resolute, each word measured like he wanted them to sink into your bones. “Not today. Not ever. They don’t get to define you. You’re mine now. Let them write whatever headlines they want. What matters is what’s real. Us.”

The words weren’t suffocating or possessive in the wrong way they were protective, wrapping around you like armour. Like he wanted to build a wall between you and the sharp teeth of the outside world. You exhaled slowly, the knot in your chest loosening just a little. “You really think I can handle this?”

His lips curved into a soft smile, the kind that brought out the faintest dimple on his cheek the one you always loved catching when his guard was down. He leaned in, brushing another kiss to your temple, lingering there longer than necessary, his breath warm against your skin.

“I know you can. And you’re not doing it alone. We walk through that carpet together. Always.” It wasn’t just a line. It was a vow. One you felt settle deep inside you.

The rest of the ride passed in a pocket of silence - comfortable, grounding. Every few blocks, Lewis would squeeze your hand like a pulse check, a quiet I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere. But the closer you got, the louder the energy became.

The muted hum of the city sharpened into the distinct roar of a waiting crowd. Even through the double-insulated car, you could hear the rising commotion followed by the blend of engine rumble, the faint blare of speakers, the excited calls from fans who had been camped out for hours just to catch a glimpse of the stars arriving.

Your heartbeat jumped as you caught your reflection in the tinted window. The way your makeup had been carefully perfected, the delicate shimmer of your dress catching in the sunlight, the slight tension still lingering in your jaw.

It hit you, suddenly, like cold water.

You were about to step out next to Lewis Hamilton. Not as a friend. Not as a PR plant. As his. Officially. Unmistakably.

When the car finally pulled up to the curb, your heart felt like it was lodged somewhere between your ribs and your throat. Through the safety of the dark glass, you could see them. Hundreds of people. Dozens of cameras. The flashes had already begun, stuttering white sparks popping like fireworks as they homed in on the unmistakable car.

You gripped Lewis’s hand tighter, your pulse hammering in your wrists. He turned to you, his thumb brushing firm, grounding strokes over your skin. His eyes softened, but his jaw was set with a quiet line of resolve.

“Hey,” he murmured, tilting your chin gently so you couldn’t hide from him. “I’ve got you. You ready?” Your breath trembled on the inhale, but you nodded. “Yeah.” His lips tugged into a slow, knowing grin. “Let’s give ‘em something to talk about.”

The car door swung open, and Lewis stepped out first, unfolding to his full height in a smooth, commanding motion that instantly drew every pair of eyes in his direction. The collective hum of the crowd exploded into cheers, gasps, the frantic whirl of camera shutters cranking into overdrive.

He moved like he owned the moment as it was unhurried, deliberate and as if the carpet had been rolled out just for him. Even the late morning sun seemed to bow to him, its bright rays catching on the pale pink jacket he’d chosen for the day, the fabric shifting in soft glimmers as he moved.

The diamond-encrusted goat symbol shimmered like a crown on his back. It wasn’t loud, more intentional. The greatest. And he knew it.

The outfit alone would’ve set social media ablaze but paired with his effortless charisma—it was like gravity itself bent toward him.

And then he turned back to the open car door. To you. His hand reached out, palm up, fingers open waiting for yours. There was no rush. No spectacle. Just an invitation. Step into this with me.

His hand wasn’t just a gesture it was a lifeline, a quiet anchor against the roar of the crowd. It was Lewis, saying without words, you don’t have to face this alone.

Your heartbeat so hard you could feel it in your teeth. But your hand moved to his like it always had like it belonged there. The moment your skin touched his, the world seemed to shift. The gasps from the crowd sliced through the noise in sharp, staggering waves.

“Wait is that -?”

“Who’s she?”

“Lewis brought someone?”

“Are they…are they together?!”

The murmurs surged, building into something uncontrollable, like the spark of a match dropped into dry grass. The media scrambled reporters elbowing for position, photographers tripping over each other to capture the shot that would headline a thousand news feeds.

You stepped out carefully, your heel meeting the carpet with delicate precision, but you felt weightless, unsteady under the sheer force of the moment. The noise blurred with shouting, cheering, cameras flashing so rapidly it felt like lightning was fracturing the air around you. For a heartbeat, you wanted to retreat, to fold back into the shadow of the car.

But then Lewis’s hand. His grip, warm and solid, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles against your knuckles. You looked up, your breath caught in your throat. And he was already looking at you. His expression wasn’t tense. It wasn’t forced. He looked proud. Unapologetically proud to be here, to be standing with you. There was no hesitation. No doubt. He wanted this. He wanted you with him. Seen with him.

His hand slid to the small of your back, his touch protective but gentle, guiding you forward onto the iconic red carpet, step by step, as if the rhythm of his body would keep you steady.

And it did.

The cameras clicked, reporters fired off questions that tumbled over each other in desperate waves.

“Lewis! Who’s your date for this event?”

“Is this your girlfriend?”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Lewis, can we get a quote? Is this serious?”

You could feel the weight of the world pressing against your skin, their curiosity a heavy, sharp thing. But Lewis never faltered. His hand on your lower back was warming, his voice calm, smooth, but with a quiet finality that settled over the crowd like a closing door. “A while now,” he said simply, his gaze flicking back to you with a softness that felt like home. “We’re happy.”

And somehow, those two words made everything else fade. The noise. The flashes. The rush of adrenaline.

You were here. Together.

And in that moment, you realised it didn’t crush you like you thought it would. You didn’t crumble under the pressure. You felt steady and protefted. Seen but not exposed.

Because Lewis was right. They could write whatever they wanted thought what mattered was what was real.

You leaned in just a fraction closer to him as you both posed for the cameras, the rhythmic flashes sharp and unrelenting almost starting to blur into the background, like a metronome you could finally find comfort in. The noise, once deafening, began to soften at the edges as you found your rhythm by his side.

Your arm slid into his, a natural tether and Lewis subtly adjusted his stance, shifting his weight just enough to tuck you closer against his side. It wasn’t theatrical. It wasn’t for the cameras. It was instinct, Lewis’s silent way of making sure you knew you were his and that he wasn’t about to let you drift, not even an inch.

The photographers barked instructions with increasing urgency, their voices stacking over each other in a chaotic medley.

“Lewis! Look here!”

“Over the shoulder, please!”

“Give us that smile, champ!”

“Just one more this way!”

Lewis accommodated them, turning when they asked, angling his body toward each flash in controlled movements. But you noticed something else, he kept glancing back at you. His attention never fully left.

Even when he posed, even when he smiled for the lenses, his body was never squared away from you. He was always slightly turned toward you, his hand tightening around your waist, his thumb sweeping soft, deliberate patterns against your dress. Like a quiet promise, like a claim.

The longer you stood there, the more you felt the initial hurricane of media attention settle into something more manageable, almost rhythmic. The sharp staccato of the camera shutters became predictable. The crowd’s gasps softened into murmurs. The disbelief settled into fascination.

You’d survived the peak. The rest, you could handle.

As the red carpet stretched onward beneath your feet, the moment began to shift. More arrivals. More distractions for the crowd. The cameras still followed your every move, but the focus, the suffocating intensity, began to fracture as other stars and drivers made their own entrances.

Familiar faces from the paddock appeared of drivers Lewis had competed against, traveled with and known through seasons of brutal races, podiums and near-misses. They came with easy handshakes, claps on the back, brief but genuine embraces. You could see the years between them, etched in their shared smiles, in the casual way they joked about the season, the film, their own cameo scenes.

You recognised some of them instantly, men whose names had been etched into the sport alongside Lewis’s, their histories tangled with his through championship fights, victories, and heartbreaks. Some were younger, just beginning their legacy, still wide-eyed on carpets like these. Some were the old guard, battle-worn but still magnetic.

As the press scattered between the stars, the Hollywood elites, and the racing royalty, the energy on the carpet shifted from tense spotlight to curated chaos. Lewis’s world now your world started to fill around you.

And still, through all of it, his hand remained anchored at your back. Firm, steady, a quiet signal that even amid the waves of familiarity, the interviews, the handshakes, you were his fixed point. His centre.

You watched the ease with which he navigated the room graceful but unyielding, the kind of practiced charisma that came with years in the spotlight.

Yet, despite his seamless flow through conversations and greetings, his focus circled back to you in loops. He would smile, laugh, speak in that rich, grounded voice the cameras loved but his hand never drifted from your lower back, his thumb still brushing those slow, grounding circles against the fabric of your dress.

And then just as you were beginning to relax you felt it.

Lewis dipped his head slightly, his breath grazing the delicate curve of your ear, his lips barely brushing your skin as he murmured, low enough that only you could hear, “Stay close, yeah?”

The softness in his voice didn’t hide the edge beneath it a quiet possessiveness threaded through the words like silk over steel. It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t a question.

It was a promise.

A directive.

An unspoken tether.

You nodded, a subtle but certain movement, your breath catching as a shiver ghosted down your spine from the intimate brush of his lips against your ear. “I will,” you whispered back, the words slipping out on instinct. It didn’t matter where he went. Interviews, photos, greetings you would follow.

For a while, the two of you moved in seamless tandem.

Lewis eased through interviews with practiced charm, answering questions about the film, about his producer role, about the legacy of Formula 1 and the authenticity the movie promised to deliver. His voice dipped into passion when he spoke about motorsport how much he cared about telling the story right, about honouring the sport’s culture.

You trailed just a step behind him, your hand never far from his, your presence wrapped safely within the invisible border Lewis’s body seemed to create around you.

Drivers passed by some offering friendly nods, some casting knowing glances toward Lewis with subtle smirks that said so this is the secret girlfriend, huh? - but none dared to push too far.

Most of them knew better.

Until he arrived.

The man appeared almost out of nowhere sliding easily into the edge of your space, wearing a polished smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His event badge was flipped backward, his credentials unreadable, and his approach lacked the caution you’d grown used to seeing from others around Lewis.

He wasn’t familiar. He wasn’t part of the F1 world. But he was curious. Too curious.

“So,” he started, his voice laced with that smooth, false charm that made your stomach twist, “must’ve been hard, huh? Keeping him all to yourself all this time?”

You blinked, caught off guard by his directness. You opened your mouth, unsure whether to offer a polite deflection or to retreat entirely.

But he didn’t give you the chance. “A man like Lewis?” His gaze raked over you in a way that made your skin prickle. “I’m surprised the secret lasted this long.” His tone wasn’t overtly inappropriate but there was something in his delivery, something too casual, too invasive, that made your pulse spike.

You instinctively leaned away, shifting your weight to subtly create space, searching for Lewis with your peripheral vision. You didn’t have to search long.

Suddenly Lewis was there.

His presence enveloped you in an instant, a wall of calm, immovable certainty. His arm curled around your waist in one smooth, possessive sweep, pulling you tightly against his side as his other hand rested firmly on your hip.

The air between you and the man closed like a slammed door.

Lewis didn’t speak at first. His silence - that silence hung in the space like a loaded chamber. And when he finally did speak, his voice was so controlled, so disarmingly calm, that the warning beneath it landed like a thunderclap. “She’s with me.” Three words. Quiet, steady, but wrapped in steel.

The man faltered. You watched it ripple across his face a slight shift, a flicker of discomfort, as if he’d miscalculated how far he could push. Lewis’s posture didn’t change. He didn’t bare his teeth. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

His message was carved into the taut set of his jaw, the protective cage of his arms around you, the sheer weight of his presence pressing into the man like an invisible wall.

Back off. She’s mine.

The man’s bravado crumbled just enough to reveal the hesitation beneath. He raised his hands in mock surrender, a forced laugh tumbling out as he tried to soften the edge of the moment. “Didn’t mean to overstep. Just making conversation.”

Lewis’s polite smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Conversation’s over.” The dismissal was soft. Lethal. Final.

The man lingered for half a second too long, then retreated mumbling something about catching Lewis later, slipping quickly into the crowd like a man who knew he’d overplayed his hand.

Only after the man disappeared entirely did Lewis’s grip on you soften just slightly but his arm didn’t fully release you. His thumb resumed its slow, soothing circles against your waist, like he was wiping away the residue of the unwelcome attention.

“You good?” he murmured, his voice now velvet-soft, the tension in his shoulders dissolving as his focus narrowed solely to you. Your heart was still racing, your adrenaline still buzzing beneath your skin, but you nodded, pressing into his side with a small exhale. “Yeah. I’m good.” Lewis didn’t rush you. He didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand slid from your waist to your fingers, lacing them together tightly, a deliberate act that sent a silent signal to everyone else.

You were his.

Unmistakably. Unapologetically.

His.

The possessiveness wasn’t suffocating. It wasn’t about control more about care. It was about making it impossible for anyone to mistake what you meant to him.

Even as the photographers continued to call out his name, even as the press still lingered nearby, you felt safe.

And as Lewis guided you forward with that quiet, magnetic certainty, you realised this wasn’t just about stepping into the spotlight. It was about stepping into it together.

The velvet ropes and the relentless flashes of the red carpet finally gave way to the grand entrance of the theatre, and with each step inside, the roar of the crowd outside began to dissolve into something distant, like thunder fading over a distant hill. What had moments ago been a hurricane of noise camera shutters, reporters shouting, fans crying out Lewis’s name softened into a low hum, gradually swallowed by the thick walls of the grand hall.

There was an invisible threshold, one you crossed almost without paying attention it, where the world outside - the headlines, the speculation, the careful curation of public image no longer followed. It all slipped away, as if you’d passed into a different universe where none of it could reach you.

Inside, the theatre was awash in soft, amber lighting that shimmered faintly off the marbled floors and stretched upward into soaring ceilings etched with intricate moldings. The grandeur of the space wrapped around you, not in an overwhelming way, but like a protective cocoon, shielding you from the weight of the spectacle you’d just endured.

Plush, uniformed ushers moved through the lobby with quiet efficiency, their voices hushed as they guided arriving guests toward their seats. There were no shouting reporters here. No cameras shoved inches from your face. No strangers inching closer, pushing boundaries.

Just calm.

Just the low, steady murmur of conversations and the gentle rustle of expensive fabrics as people drifted toward their places. It felt like exhaling for the first time all evening.

For the first time, you realised how tightly you’d been holding your shoulders, how shallow your breathing had become under the heat of the public eye. You felt the weight begin to lift, inch by inch, like your body was finally giving you permission to exist again without bracing for impact.

And through it all, Lewis’s hand never left yours.

If anything, his grip had tightened the moment you stepped inside, the second the velvet ropes disappeared behind you. It was as if now finally he could drop the armour he’d worn outside, the polished composure that had kept him steady in front of a thousand lenses. Here, in this sliver of quiet, he could relax. And with that release, his instinct wasn’t to let go of you it was to hold you closer.

You followed the usher as they guided you toward the front of the theatre, past rows of important names and famous faces, past whispered greetings and exchanged nods. Of course, your seats were front row. There was never a question.

Lewis gently tugged you toward your seat, and the moment you sank into the velvety embrace of the plush chair, it felt like you were landing after free-falling all night. The contrast was striking of the weightless buzz outside against the grounded stillness now settling over you.

Lewis dropped into the seat beside you, his body shifting with a long, measured exhale, as though this was the first time he’d allowed himself to breathe deeply since stepping out of the car. And then, like muscle memory, his hand found yours again fingers lacing together like they belonged there, like they always belonged there.

“This is going to be a good time,” he murmured, his voice low, softer now that he no longer needed to project for microphones or entertain the crowd. It was no longer the carefully measured public version of himself. This voice was only for you unfiltered, unguarded. The words, simple as they were, wrapped around you like a balm, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves.

You turned your head toward him, your gaze catching the curve of his lips, now curled into the softest hint of a smile not the practiced one he wore for photographers, but something smaller, warmer, real. His dark eyes had lost the sharp glint he carried on the carpet; now, they were calm, drenched in quiet affection.

And in that moment, the tension that had gripped your shoulders, the racing pulse that had thudded relentlessly in your chest it all started to melt away.

The headlines didn’t matter now.

The whispers didn’t matter.

The speculation didn’t matter.

Inside these walls, it wasn’t about what the world would say tomorrow. It wasn’t about trends or social media frenzies or dissected footage. Here, it was just you and him. The rest of the world could wait.

The lights dimmed gradually, the soft amber glow fading into a deeper, velvet darkness, until the only light remaining came from the enormous screen flickering to life. The chatter in the theatre dissolved into silence, like a switch had been flipped, and the quiet reverence that filled the room was almost sacred.

As the opening sequence of the film began, you shifted instinctively, your body leaning toward Lewis like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your head came to rest against his shoulder, the fabric of his pale pink jacket soft beneath your cheek, still carrying the faintest trace of his cologne clean, fresh and uniquely him.

Lewis welcomed you into him instantly, his arm sliding around your shoulders, pulling you into the warm, protective curve of his body. His hand splayed wide across your upper arm, his thumb brushing lazy, almost absentminded strokes along your skin through the thin fabric of your dress.

It was comforting. Yours.

You could hear his heartbeat beneath your ear steady, unhurried, grounding you in a way nothing else could.

His touch wasn’t performative anymore. It wasn’t for the cameras. It wasn’t for show. It wasn’t for the curated narrative the world was already racing to write.

It was just Lewis holding you like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. He didn’t need to speak. He didn’t need to fill the moment with more promises or empty reassurances. His presence was enough. The weight of his arm around you was enough. This was the truth of who he was not the man in front of the flashing bulbs, not the headline, not the legacy.

Just Lewis. The man who kept you close. The man who made sure you were safe. The man who had never once let go of your hand since you stepped out of that car.

You could hear the film continuing, the hum of engines, the dialogue, the familiar cadence of the racing world but your focus drifted, your heartbeat syncing with his, the velvet darkness cocooning you in the most intimate of silences.

Because this wasn’t just the premiere of a movie. This wasn’t just another milestone in his already illustrious career. This was the night Lewis chose to pull you into his orbit not in pieces, not in fragments, not as something to be tucked away in the shadows and it wasn’t about being his secret anymore.

And what struck you most what melted something in your chest was the quiet realisation that he had always been preparing you for this, gently, without pressure, until you were ready to walk beside him in full view of the world.

The media would dissect the two of you.

The photos would flood the internet.

The world would spin its stories.

But none of it mattered in this moment.

Because the most important headline had already been written in the curl of his fingers around yours, in the warmth of his breath against your hair, in the steady cadence of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

You were his. And maybe you always had been.

And as you nestled just a little closer to him, your eyes softening as you allowed yourself to exhale completely, you knew this wasn’t about surviving the spotlight.

It was about standing in it together and that would always be enough.

By the time the film ended, the velvet seats were now empty, the grand theatre slowly slipping back into quiet as guests trickled out into the cool New York evening.

The buzz outside was still alive reporters lingering for scraps of commentary, fans clinging to barricades for one last glimpse, but Lewis had expertly guided you out through a private exit, a warm hand at your back the entire way, keeping you tucked close to him, away from the chaos.

Now, the hum of the city wrapped around the car as you both sat cocooned in the soft leather seats, the tinted windows blurring the flashes into distant glimmers that felt too far away to reach you anymore.

For the first time all night, the silence wasn’t filled with tension.

You sat with your legs tucked toward him, your body turned just slightly, head resting back against the seat as you let yourself really breathe long and deep, the adrenaline finally beginning to fade from your bloodstream. The noise outside, the relentless clicking of cameras, the flashing bulbs they all felt so far away, like they were happening to someone else, far removed from this intimate, quiet moment you now found yourself in.

Lewis’s hand was still in yours. Always in yours. His thumb was still brushing that same, familiar rhythm against your skin, a quiet tether that had grounded you all night, the gentle movement providing a sense of calm you hadn’t noticed you’d been needing.

He hadn’t let go, not once.

You looked over at him, your gaze tracing the softened curve of his jaw now that he wasn’t wearing the weight of the room anymore. The tension that had been coiled in his shoulders had unraveled. His posture more relaxed, but his eyes those deep, thoughtful eyes still flickered to you like he couldn’t quite stop checking, like some part of him still needed to make sure you were okay.

“You alright?” he asked softly, his voice now stripped of the polish he’d worn on the carpet. This wasn’t the voice he gave the cameras. This was the voice he saved for you.

You gave him a small, tired smile. “Yeah. I think I am now.”

Lewis’s lips quirked into that half-smile, the one that always made your heart skip a little. “Told you we’d be alright.”

You let out a quiet laugh, your head tilting against the seat as you studied him, the memory of the night still warm on your skin. “I was so nervous,” you admitted, the honesty slipping out easily now, safe in the privacy of the car. “I thought I was going to faint when I stepped out. I thought maybe I’d embarrass you.”

His brows drew together instantly, his thumb pausing its rhythm to grip your hand a little tighter. “Embarrass me?” His voice softened with disbelief, the very idea of it clearly throwing him off. “You didn’t embarrass me. Not for a second. You -” He trailed off, searching for the words, his thumb resuming its soft circles, grounding you in a way that only he could. “You were perfect.”

You felt heat bloom in your cheeks, a soft flutter in your chest that had nothing to do with the cameras or the crowd. “You really think so?”

Lewis’s gaze softened, his eyes lingering on you like he wanted to etch this version of you - tired, glowing, real into his memory forever. “I know so.”

The car slowed as the driver turned onto a quieter street, the city’s pulse dimming to a soft murmur as the chaos of the premiere faded into the distance. The night air slipped through the cracked window, cool against your skin, fragrant with the distant scent of rain and city life.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, but it wasn’t empty it was full, wrapped in the comfortable weight of shared understanding. The light outside seemed softer now, more intimate, as though the world had dialled down, just for you two, to let you breathe.

Lewis finally broke the silence, his voice a low murmur as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. “They’re gonna talk, you know. They’re gonna write their stories.”

You nodded, your heart steady now. “Let them.”

He smiled at that, proud and soft all at once. “That’s my girl.”

His words settled in your chest like something permanent, something you wanted to hold on to. He didn’t need to say more everything he had already said, everything he’d done, told you more than words could. The car pulled up in front of the hotel, the quiet rumble of the engine slipping into stillness. The driver moved to open the door, but Lewis squeezed your hand once more before you moved, anchoring you there just a moment longer.

“Thank you,” he said, his gaze locking with yours, the weight of the words settling between you, grounding you even deeper. “For being with me. For walking through that with me.” The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten in a way that almost took you by surprise. You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, the warmth of his skin seeping into your lips as you whispered, “Always.”

There, in the soft glow of the streetlights, in the quiet safety of the car, you allowed yourself to close the distance between you and him just a little more. His lips, soft and warm, brushed gently against yours before he pulled away, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to capture every second of the moment.

You lingered there, your face still inches from his, the rush of the night finally settling into something you could hold onto.

His brown eyes stared into yours almost like a plea. His hand slid to your face, cupping your cheek as if to remind you that this wasn’t for the world it was just for the two of you.

Soon enough, Lewis’s lips found yours again, this time with more certainty, more passion, more everything. The kiss was slow, deliberate, as though he was savouring the feeling of having you this close, finally able to love you without the weight of the world on his shoulders. His thumb traced the line of your jaw as he deepened the kiss, and you melted into him, letting him pull you closer, hands finding his neck, your bodies aligning with ease.

It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t hurried. It was perfect.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, Lewis’s forehead pressed gently against yours. “You’re mine,” he murmured softly, almost as if reminding himself.

“I’ve always been yours,” you whispered back, feeling that truth settle in your heart.

And as you walked toward the hotel, his thumb brushing slow, steady circles against your hand once more, you knew with certainty -

You’d walk through it all again.