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soaps-mohawk · 11 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 33: Ghosts of the Past

Summary: It can't be a coincidence anymore.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 5,411 words

Warnings: ANGST, emotional turmoil, panic and panic attacks, anxiety, drugs used for drugging, very brief mention of predatory behavior, author can't write call of duty missions for shit, withholding the truth, hints at betrayal, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, very much leaning into that AU now, brief mention of guns and bullets

A/N: Ummm...yeah. You'll see. Bit shorter than normal but my obsessive need for cliffhangers prevents me from shoving it all into one chapter.

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Her head is spinning. There’s a steady throbbing behind her eyes, her blood pumping in her ears. Her shoulder aches from the cold tile floor under her. She can’t quite bring herself to move yet, the deep ache in her bones still lingering. She pushes through the haze in her mind, trying to bring up the memories of what happened.

Someone had entered her office. She hadn’t even had time to turn around when she was hit from behind. That explains the throbbing in the back of her head. Likely concussed, though it hadn’t been a hard hit. Not hard enough to do serious damage, not even hard enough to make her see stars. Just enough to incapacitate her so she couldn’t fight back. There had been a sting of a needle in her neck. Whatever it was, it was fast acting, maybe a minute before she lost consciousness.

Ketamine...maybe fentanyl.

She pushes herself up to sit, blinking back the dizziness and the nausea. Whoever attacked her wanted her out of the way, incapacitated for long enough to do something.

A horrifying thought flashes through her mind as she comes back to reality. She’s one of the few on base that knows you’re completely alone. She’s likely the only one who would care if you went missing. She tries to keep herself calm, tries to slow her breathing as she feels her pockets, pulling herself up onto her knees, gripping the side of her desk as she fights the nausea and pounding in her head that nearly blinds her.

Her phone is gone.

Her legs shake as she forces them under her, pulling herself up. She needs to get to the barracks, needs to check on you. She stumbles to the door, pushing it open as she tries to keep her breathing under control. You’re smart. You’re going to hide, or run, from any threat. You’ve learned your lesson from the last time. You won’t go easily again.

The walk to the barracks feels like it takes forever as she half stumbles her way across the base, fighting the wind still whipping through the open areas between the buildings. Her head is throbbing, the haze of the drug still lingering. It’s the terror in her mind, the horrible thoughts of what might have happened keeping her moving forward. She only gets glances as she crosses to the 141’s barracks. None of them even think to ask her if she’s alright.

There’s no help from the others.

She pushes open the door to the barracks, blinking through the burning of the bright fluorescents. She feels for you, having to exist in such a bright, clinical space.

Dread begins to fill her as she reaches your door, finding it open. The door jam is broken, the wood around the lock splintered. Your dresser had been pushed behind the door, but it hadn’t stopped whoever wanted to get in. The window is open, and she can only hope you crawled your way through to safety. She steps up to your desk, books and snacks in disarray, some having fallen to the floor. She swallows thickly as she stares down at the wood, her fingers shaking.

Her phone is sitting on the desk.

She picks it up, the screen flashing on. There’s a missed call from you. Whoever had broken in must have made it look like she was the one responsible. She goes through her contacts, finding your number before calling. She doesn’t have hope that you’ll answer, but she has to try for her own sanity.

The phone doesn’t even ring before it goes to voicemail.

She steps out of your door, going through every room she can in the barracks, shouting your name. She doesn't have hope, except maybe that you doubled back and barricaded yourself somewhere. It’s not likely you would answer to her anyway, if you thought she was the one behind all of this.

She heads outside, trying to catch any lingering hint of your scent, but the wind has dispersed it completely. There’s soldiers milling around, likely on their afternoon breaks. She doesn't hesitate as she approaches them, asking every soldier she sees in the area if they’ve seen you.

“I saw her.” One finally says. Allen, his patch reads. “Running towards the trees.”

“Was anyone following her?” She asks.

He shrugs. “Dunno. Didn’t stay long enough to see.”

She feels the urge to punch him, to yell at him for not helping, but she knows they have strict orders to keep away from you. They might have not known any better, or wanted to risk a reprimanding if they disobeyed orders.

She continues to take deep breaths as she glances towards the trees. It won’t do her much good to try to go looking by herself. You wouldn’t have followed the trail. You’re too smart for that. She’d need a whole army to search the base for you.

Her hands shake as she searches through her contacts. She’s not expecting an answer. She’s probably busy with the 141 away on a mission. No one will know. No one will know until it’s too late. She’s not sure what to do. Would the commanders on base believe her? Would they organize a search based on her word alone? By then it might be too late. It might be too late now.

“Laswell.”

“Kate, Kate I can’t find her.” She gasps out, spinning around in the middle of the road, as if you might come popping out of thin air, or creeping out from behind a building. She’s panicking, speaking the words aloud feeling like an absolute truth, as if she’s speaking it into existence.

“Who?” Kate asks, sounding confused.

She chokes out your name, her hand pressed to her chest to try and calm the panic quickly rising in her. “She’s gone.”

Kate takes a deep breath to keep her head clear and calm. It’s far too much of a coincidence to deny it now. The cameras, the sudden deployment, the call from Shepherd for the whole team, the discovery of the files.

Now this.

“Kate?”

She’s never heard Christine so emotional, so uncomposed before. “I’m here.” She says, composing herself. One of them needs to be clear-headed and logical. “I’m going to contact command, alert base security. You look everywhere you think she might possibly be.”

“Yeah, okay.” Christine lets out a breath. “I can do that.”

“I’ll call back as soon as I can.” She says. “If you find anything, I need to know immediately.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Kate knows she’s trying to calm herself, get her head on straight again. “Christine? We’ll find her. No matter what it takes.”

“You don’t....you don’t think she’s...” She can’t manage to finish the sentence.

“No.” Kate says, not even having to ask what she means. It’s not a lie, though. If the conspiracy that’s been brewing in her head is true, you’re more valuable to them alive. “If what I think is happening is actually happening, she has to be alive. She’s no use to anyone dead.” She says, speaking the thoughts aloud for the first time since the delivery of the cameras into her hands.

“I hope you’re right.”

Kate holds her phone in her hand, taking a breath. She’s not sure how it happened, how you managed to disappear out from under Christine’s watchful eye. Something must have happened that separated the two of you long enough for you to disappear. Christine wouldn’t just leave you like that unless it was something important, or if she sensed something wrong, something that might put you at risk. You wouldn’t have left the barracks on your own, not unless something forced the two of you apart.

She should call them, make them aware.

She can’t bring herself to. Not yet. She can’t distract them. The job comes first. She’s always hated those words in the context of the initiative. Why would they put an omega through this? What was the real reason? The idea of the initiative always left a bad taste in her mouth when she thought about it too much. She’ll know soon. She’ll get her answers as soon as her team finishes combing through those files.

She won’t call them until they know for sure. Not until they’re positive, not until there’s proof. They’re not in a place they could easily leave, either.

Sometimes the greater good has to come first.

Her hands are shaking as she dials the number for the base commander. They have an omega to find.

Christine’s heart is pounding as she races around the base, checking everywhere she can think of. She’d gotten looks as she combed through the mess, wide eyed and nearly shaking with fear. Her scent must have been projecting, all the control she’d mastered slipping away. She’s never felt panic like this before, not even in the toughest situations with omegas. This is different though. You’re her only patient. She had been tasked with keeping watch over you, they had trusted her enough to take care of you in their absence again, even after everything had happened.

Your mental state scared her. Seeing you like that wasn’t a surprise after everything you’ve gone through these last few weeks, but that doesn’t stop the worry, the concern as your doctor. Sure, whoever took you, if they took you, might want you alive...but can your mind keep itself alive for that long?

She asks everyone she can in the mess, the kitchen staff and everyone sitting near the doors if they’ve seen you.

No one. Not a single soul saw you. It was unlikely you’d run to the mess, but that would have been the logical move. Run where there’s a crowd, though if you thought they wouldn’t help you, you might have avoided it.

She checks the med center next, combing every inch of it she can. She’s not sure you would have risked running there if you thought she was behind it. Did you see your assailant’s face? You must have, if they drugged you too. You wouldn’t go quietly, so they would have had to reveal themselves to you.

You know it’s not her behind it.

She tells herself that to make herself feel better.

Would you think she was, even if evidence pointed to it? Would you think she would betray you like that? They would have taught you not to trust anyone, but why now? Why would she strike now when she’s been with you in your weakest moments over the last two weeks? There were plenty of times she could have done something, yet she hadn’t. She wouldn’t have. There was no amount of money in this world that would have convinced her to turn against you, betray you and your pack.

She had been willing to fight tooth and nail to avoid sending those files to Shepherd if John hadn’t told her to do it. He trusted her.

That trust will be broken now.

She left you alone, and now you’re gone.

Or dead.

There would be no escaping their retribution. They’d hunt her down to the ends of the earth. Alex would never forgive her. Hell, he’d probably join them.

She checks the gym, even though she doubts you’d run there of all places. She combs every corner she can, getting one of the soldiers to unlock the training rooms just in case, even though it was illogical to think you’d be able to get in with them locked. She can’t be too careful, though. Maybe they taught you how to pick locks.

She even checks the pool, looking at every inch just to be sure.

She’s not sure if it’s a relief she can’t find you compared to the alternative, or if it’s almost worse. At least if she found a body there would be closure. The panic could ease for a moment and she’d know. She’d be sure.

She runs through the barracks once more, combing through every closet and toilet stall, but as expected there’s nothing there. Just your forced open door and the open window. Whatever happened, you did what you were supposed to. You called her and you ran. You learned your lesson, the lessons they’ve all taught you. You did your best, and that is enough, even if her darkest thoughts are true.

You must have run for the trees. It’s the most logical place to run. There’s plenty of places to hide, lots of space to run and double back on your trail, to confuse whoever was following you until they gave up.

Would they give up? Or was their motivations strong enough to keep them prowling, hunting every inch of the forest to look for you.

What if they’re still out there looking for you? What if you’re still out there, afraid and alone.

She hadn’t seen your phone in your room. She prays you grabbed it before you left. Maybe you’re out there trying to call Kate, trying to call anyone who might be able to help. She wishes you’d call her, but why would you if you think she’s still behind it?

Whoever did this planned this out perfectly.

It’s all premeditated. All of it.

What if you’re out there distressing?

She feels like vomiting, her stomach churning uncomfortably. You were already so worked up about your pack being gone, something like this might have sent you right over the edge. She curls her hands into fists, trying to stop them from shaking. She doesn’t know what to do.

For the first time in a long time she doesn’t have a solution to a problem.

She leans against the wall outside the barracks, taking deep breaths. She’s no good to anyone if she’s panicking. You need help. You’ll need her if they find you. She’ll be the only one that will be able to help you. She’s not even sure your pack knows yet. Could Kate tell them? It’s been weeks and there’s been no word. Kate hadn’t been able to give her anything as expected, only that she’d pass the word along once they had a moment.

Had she been lying, or had they truly been off the grid completely? Has this deployment really been that serious? They had called in the whole pack. Or had that been premeditated too. Get you alone and wait for the perfect moment. It can’t be coincidence that they waited until you were distressed enough being separated from your pack for so long.

None of it is a coincidence.

Would Kate tell them this happened? Would she risk it now that your life is in danger?

Or is Kate in on this too?

She shakes the thought from her head. She knows Kate. Kate had picked her specifically for this job. She spent weeks with Kate interviewing and being debriefed for this position. Kate wouldn’t do something like this, not with how close she is to John and the pack. They trust her and she knows them enough to pick an omega that fits in seamlessly with them. She wouldn’t betray them and you like this.

Something is going on behind the scenes. Something has happened to cause all of this. It’s all related. It has to be. It’s all too convenient, all too orchestrated. It has to revolve around the cameras. There’s no other thing she can think of that might cause this series of events.

Unless it goes even deeper than that.

“Dr. Keller?” She looks up when she hears her name.

“Yes?” She says, pushing herself to stand up straight as an officer approaches.

“Lieutenant Colonel Woods, Base Commander.” The officer holds out his hand.

She shakes it, her palms sweaty but he doesn’t seem to care.

“We’re rounding up everyone who is still on base.” He says. It’s the weekend. A lot of them will have left. All the more easy to sneak you away. “We’ll search through every building and send out parties to comb through the forest.”

She nods, taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel. I’ve checked everywhere I can think of. There’s no sign of her.”

“If she’s still on base, we’ll find her.” He says, far more confident than she feels.

If you’re still on base. The words make her want to vomit.

“The front gate guards are compiling a list of everyone who has come on base and left base within the last two hours.” He continues. “If someone took her, we’ll know.”

“I’m worried about her.” She says, the only thing that’s coming to her mind. It’s true. She’s never been quite so invested in the wellbeing of a patient as she has you, but then again, she’s never been this involved in the life of a patient before. “A lot of things could go wrong quickly.”

“We’ve got a lot of boots on the ground out there looking.” He says. He’s trying to be comforting. She knows this, but that stiff military mindset keeps it from sounding more than cordial and practiced. What if they’re all in on it? “We’ll find her, or we’ll get answers to what happened.”

The wait is the worst part. She’s going crazy, waiting for any word. Anything that might hint at what’s happening. There’s been nothing yet, no sign of you, but it’s hardly been twenty minutes. She can’t stop the spiraling thoughts. She can’t take her own advice, apply her own knowledge and teachings. Not right now. Not while she’s bordering on a crisis. She needs to find you. She needs to know you’re alright.

Don’t let them find a body.

She’ll never live with herself. She left you alone. She let this happen. She was supposed to be watching you, taking care of you, and now you’re gone under her watch.

They’ll never trust her again.

Her phone ringing nearly has her jumping out of her skin. She fumbles for it in her pocket, her fingers trembling. Please let it be you. She lets out a breath of disappointment before answering.

“Kate?” Her voice shakes.

“Any news?” Kate asks. She sounds disheveled herself.

“Nothing.” She swallows thickly. “They’re still looking.”

Kate sighs. “I don’t think she’s on base.”

Hearing it nearly makes her legs give out. She’s known that’s likely the case since she called Kate the first time, but hearing it out loud solidifies that as a fact. She’s been keeping a fool’s hope that you managed to hide somewhere, that you got somewhere safe, even if she knows better.

“This goes a lot deeper than we all thought. It was never about the cameras or the initiative.” Kate continues.

“The reports, the prying.” She says. “It wasn’t about tracking progress for the sake of progress.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Sir.” A soldier approaches, saluting the Lieutenant Colonel.

“We might have some news.” She says, putting her phone on speaker. She hopes it’s true. If they can get a name, then they’ll have an easier time finding you.

“At ease.” Woods says.

“We have the list of everyone who left base in the last two hours.” He says, handing over a tablet. “There’s only one.”

“Colonel McKinney.” Woods says.

“He left in his personal vehicle 50 minutes ago.” The guard says.

“Give me every detail you can on that car.” Kate says.

“It’s a blue Ford Fiesta, registration plate Papa Juliet 64, Hotel Tango November.” Woods says.

“I’ll get eyes on that car.” Kate says.

“I’ll alert local police.” Woods says.

“We will find her.” Kate says, and Christine knows she’s trying to reassure her.

“Do they know?” She asks.

“Not yet.” Kate says. “They’re not in a place where they can do anything about it, and the last thing they need is to get distracted.”

“They're not going to like being kept in the dark on this for so long.” She says.

“I know. But it’s for their own safety above all else.”

And the greater good of the world, Christine knows, even if Kate doesn’t say it out loud. It’s always for the greater good. That’s why the job comes first, even if it’s at your detriment. She feels like screaming, like throwing her phone.

It’s not fair.

Her hands are still shaking as she ends the call with Kate, not feeling any more comforted than she had before. It’s possible Corporal McKinney was involved. It’s too coincidental that he left base within the time you went missing. Why would he take you, though? Was he involved in all of this too? She’s never heard you mention his name before, nor have you brought up any strange feelings about any of the soldiers on base. Omegas are good at reading others' energies. It’s a natural defense mechanism and with your pureblood status, it makes you all the more aware of things in your environment.

Then again, you kept the cameras from all of them. What else have you been hiding?

She pushes the thoughts away. Now is not the time for conspiracies she can’t get an answer to. They need to find you first and ensure you’re alright. That’s the most important thing.

“Lieutenant Colonel!” A soldier says, approaching their makeshift headquarters. “We found something, sir.”

“What did you find?” He says, standing up straight.

“A bullet on the trail, sir.” He places the bullet in Woods’ hand. “About a quarter of a mile from the trailhead.”

Christine feels like passing out. Her legs are wobbling, knees shaking as she stands there, staring at the bullet. She needs to sit down, she needs to breathe.

Don’t let them find a body. Please don’t let them find a body.

The tear that trails down her cheek is hot against her clammy skin.

Kate sighs as she puts down the phone. She wants to put her head in her hands, scream, punch something, anything. She can’t, though, she’s doing double duty. She’s the only one she trusts to do both of these things. This pack is hers to watch over, hers to help, and that includes the entire pack.

Not much can be done until Corporal McKinney and his car are found. There won’t be any leads until then, unless they come across something on base. She hates it, that she can’t do more. She knows if she tells John, they’ll abandon this mission and be on a flight home in a heartbeat. It won’t do anyone any good until they know more, until the 141 are in a safer position.

She hates keeping it from them, but it’s for everyone’s safety.

Especially if what she uncovered is true.

She can hardly believe it herself. Her eyes keep flickering to the files her team had uncovered, the truth finally spilling out about everything. There is no initiative. There was never going to be an initiative. They were all pawns being placed for a move like this, for a situation that calls for such drastic measures.

The last few hours have hardly felt real.

“Bravo 0-6 to Watcher 0-1 how copy?” John’s voice comes through the comms, almost startling her.

She still has a job to do.

“Loud and clear, Bravo 0-6.” She says, clearing her throat.

“Kate, there’s nothing here.”

Kate blinks at the screen, at the map that had been carefully laid out with exact points, confirmed visuals. “Come again?” She says, praying it was her overactive mind that misheard.

“The warehouse is empty. There’s no sign of any missile having been here in the first place.” John says.

What? Kate flips through files, scanning every bit of intel that had been given to her.

They’re all pawns.

There was no missile. There was no real intel. A red herring.

Separating the pack leaves members vulnerable. Take away the four and leave the omega alone and unprotected. Separate her from the one person left to keep watch over her, leave her vulnerable.

It’s what they wanted all along. That was always the plan.

“John, there’s...” She trails off as dots begin appearing on the map. She zooms in, her stomach dropping. “Four vehicles approaching your position.”

“Friendly?” He asks, but she can hear the doubt in his voice. He knows they’re not. He’s done this enough times.

“I don’t think they're meeting you for a picnic.” She says, trying to identify the vehicles.

“We’ll dig in here. Keep them from getting in.” John says.

“John...” Kate says. She should tell him. She needs to tell them before something goes wrong. If this was all a trap, then things will go wrong, yet she can’t bring herself to say it. Not yet. “Don’t come out of there in a body bag.”

“Don’t give up hope on us yet.” He says before the line goes dead.

Kate lets out a long breath, rubbing her eyes. It’s going to be a long next few hours.

Your head is pounding. There’s a throbbing behind your eyes beating in time with your heart. It hurts, a quiet groan leaving your lips. The world is spinning and you haven’t even opened your eyes. Your entire body feels like it’s twisting and turning, your organs wringing themselves like a washcloth. You’re going to be sick, but you can’t even manage to lift your head.

Everything feels heavy. Nothing is moving despite your brain telling it to. There’s a deep ache in your muscles and joints like you’ve been immobile for far too long and need to stretch. Your limbs try to move, yet nothing happens except a sharp pain in your left calf. You let out another groan, fingers curling at the sharp pain that radiates up through your leg to your hip. The throbbing behind your eyes intensifies as your head is moved, tilting up before falling backwards weakly.

“Easy.” A voice coos at you, easing your head back straight. It flops to the side, none of your muscles coordinating like they should. “...know...dose...twice.”

The words float in and out, muffled like you’re underwater and just barely bobbing above the surface. You do feel a bit like you’re underwater, trying to kick up to the surface of consciousness. Something is holding you under, keeping you from reaching that surface.

There’s a hand on your face holding your head up as your muscles fight to activate enough to hold it up themselves. The hand is warm against your skin, rough and calloused. There’s two textures, skin and rough fabric against your face. Awareness begins to come back to you slowly, your mind clearing the fog the longer you’re awake. Your body hurts, muscles aching. You try to move your arms but you can't, something biting into the skin of your wrists as you turn them.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” The voice says, calloused fingers brushing your arm.

You flinch at the touch, muscles contracting painfully before they relax. You let out another groan, your brows pinching as you try to get your eyes to open. The haze hasn’t entirely lifted from your brain yet as you slowly become more aware of your surroundings. It’s cold where you are, goosebumps forming on your skin. It’s uncomfortable, your body too exposed. You want a sweatshirt, a blanket, something to keep the cold away. Something tickles in the back of your brain as you begin to pick up scents, several all at once, meshed together. It’s overwhelming, too much information flooding your brain all at once.

The motion is automatic and instinctual as you turn your face to press into the hand on your cheek. You inhale deeply, trying to block out the overwhelming wave of senses, trying to get a sense of who it is in front of you, who is with you in the room.

Woody. Soft wood. Cedar? It smells like a candle your mother used to burn.

Sweet? Something sweet. Chocolate? Richer. Dark chocolate.

Memories begin to float back as you inhale the scent. You know that scent. You’ve smelled it before. Your frown deepens as you hold your face there, nose pressed against the palm as your mind sluggishly digs through your hazy memory banks. You can’t even remember where you are or how you got there.

“Good girl.”

You know that voice. You’ve heard it before. Somewhere in the back of your mind it triggers something, some faded memory shoved deep into the depths of your memory bank. You dig for it, mining your sluggish brain as you try to figure out who it is, why it’s all so familiar.

The other part of your brain focuses on your body, waking your muscles back up. With it comes the pain, the achiness: the throbbing in your calf, the pulsing behind your eyes, the ache in your muscles and joints. There’s a light somewhere in front of you, bright and shining through your eyelids. You don’t want to open them. It feels wrong, the bright light right in your face. You don’t like it.

You pull your face away from the hand, your head drooping forward slightly as the muscles in your neck finally begin to engage. The scent is wrong. It’s not the right kind of wood. There’s no damp earth after a spring rain, no scent of petrichor. The touch isn’t right. It’s not soft enough, not warm enough.

It’s not your alpha.

The tingling in the back of your brain intensifies as you shoot into hyper-awareness from your sluggish state. Your instincts are awake, suddenly overwhelmed by the explosion of scents and sounds. There’s voices all around, quiet and hushed, but they might as well be yelling in your ears. There’s so many scents blending together until you can’t tell one from the other.

Except the one in front of you.

Cedar. Dark Chocolate.

Memories crawl forward from the recesses of your mind. Childhood. Texas. Summer heat. The charcoal in the barbeque. Cedar and chocolate always too close. You hated it. You’ve always hated that smell.

Your eyes force themselves open, eyelids peeling up like a damp window that’s been closed for a decade. The window had been hard to open, yet you managed it with the adrenaline pumping through your body.

Your heart rate picks up at the thought, some fear you can’t quite conceptualize yet in your half-aware state burning in the back of your mind. You breathe heavily as you fight to get your eyes open, blinking against the obtrusive light. Fluorescent, too bright to be comfortable.

White walls, bright lights. Boots on the floor.

Your pack.

Where is your pack? Where is your alpha?

Where are you?

Finally your eyes open, squinting against the bright light. You can’t see anything, the light directly in your eyes. It burns, tears gathering on your lids as you fight against the oppressive, blinding sun being directed at you.

Voices float in the background and suddenly the light is turned away. You blink away the bright spots left in your vision, a couple tears falling uncontrollably. Rough fingers wipe them off your cheeks almost tenderly, but not tender enough.

Rough fingers across your skin, gripping you tightly, anchoring you. A soft voice floats through the air, rough yet comforting with the soft words calming the panic in you.

It’s not right.

Nothing is right.

You’re breathing heavily as you finally get your eyes fully open, the muscles in your neck contracting as you slowly lift your head. There’s someone kneeling in front of you, arm draped across their knee. They’re like a shadow, hidden mostly from view as you blink clarity into your eyes. Your brows pinch into a frown again as you blink, your gaze focusing on the face in front of you.

You know that face.

“There she is.”

You know that voice.

It’s been years since you heard it last. Memories slam into you in an onslaught, memories from your childhood, back when things were fine, things were normal, things were as they should be.

Family. Texas. Alphas.

Cedar and chocolate.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, blinking in shock. Your brows furrow in confusion, your still foggy brain trying to piece everything together.

You know him.

It’s been years but you’ll never forget.

The light brown hair, bright blue eyes, dimples indenting with that too-friendly grin.

Your mouth is dry, your tongue heavy as it opens, forming the name on your lips. The name. It comes out in a croak, barely audible and understandable, but laced with confusion and disbelief.

“Phil?”

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n3ptoonz · 2 months ago

Text

'Addiction'

Pairing: CivilWar!Bucky/F!Reader

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Warnings/tags: Smut, Explicit; pathetic bucky!!scent kink, jerking off, dirty thoughts, implied dominant reader, reader is implied to be thicker, half proofread

Word count: 1.9k+

thisbfucking gif oh ny god.

Bucky was taking time getting used to being still, being in a more "normal" environment. The Avengers Tower was very accommodating and Steve was sure all his needs were met. There was only one problem. He was obsessed with you.

It's like you crawled into his brain and made yourself at home. Everyone was aware he had a staring problem, so whenever his gaze would linger just a little longer on you, most didn't really take note of it. They figured he was still adjusting and maybe even deterred from meeting new people.

But it was the exact opposite. He craved every last bit of you and he hadn't a clue what to do about it. Part of him wondered if it was from being painfully touch starved for almost a century (it is) but the other part of him thought he was just being dramatic.

He didn't know if it was the confident sway of your hips, your unique laugh, maybe even how your hero suit hugs your figure. That was until he looked down at the article of clothing being clutched for dear life in his metal hand. It was the jacket you gave him that one time it started raining and he ran inside a little later after. It was a simple gesture. You were just being nice.

Albeit none of that shit mattered as he quickly became aware of the nightfall that peered through the main room's window. He sighed, knowing that simply staying as quiet as possible with his hand down his pants does nothing for him anymore. Honestly he can't even remember how your jacket got in his hand in the first place. But it's like I said, none of it mattered. Especially as he slowly stood up and quietly walked to the hall bathroom, jacket in his vice grip.

The door shut quietly behind him but he didn't bother turning the light on, still feeling a little ashamed he got on his own two feet and waltzed his ass all the way here. He might as well finish the job, he thought.

He took no time shoving his hand down his pants, leaning against the wall, and pulling himself out. Bringing the jacket to his nose made everything he liked about you flood his senses. The confident sway of your hips, your unique laugh, maybe even how your hero suit hugs your figure. Your smile. Your kindness. Your bravery, your will, your goddamn personality.

Your scent.

"Fuck-" he breathed while furiously jerking off to the mere thought of you and the overwhelming smell coming off your jacket. He's surprised the scent didn't wear off by now considering he's been indulging in this obsession. This addiction.

Bucky was still mindful though. As much as he wanted to let out a whine and prolong this as much as possible, he knew he should just get this over with. Get out every thought of you while he could for the night. Sleep the shame away; the guilt. Carry the weight of beating off to his own teammate's smell back to his room where he'd pretend none of this ever happened until he needed his fix again-

The lights switched on and a loud gasp filled the room. Bucky's eyes shot wide open as he looked to his right. You stood there in shock and quickly shut the door, a quiet "Sorry" coming from the other side before the sound of receding footsteps became more apparent.

Bucky stood there, frozen and dick in hand. His heart was beating out of his chest when he caught a glimpse of how he looked in the mirror.

Pathetic.

His hair messy, some of it stuck to his forehead from sweat. His chest heaved from the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The guilt pumping through his body; fear. Did he just completely fuck this up?

Bucky quickly pulled up his pants and rinsed his hands before drying them on his shirt. He sighed heavily and gripped the sink while his head hung low. Guilt, shame, everything in between. Oh, he was feeling it.

He stood at your door with his fist hovering, too scared to actually knock. Too scared to face you and apologize over and over again that you had to see that. This side of him that was supposed to only exist at the dead of night, when everyone was sleep and completely unaware.

However, the dramatics were cut short when you opened the door, standing casually in a tank top and...no bottoms. Underwear. Bucky was taller than you, sure, but that held no relevance as his eyes just subconsciously focused on your pillowy thighs. Bare before him with no thought to cover up. You stood there in the doorframe and folded your arms, seeing your jacket still in his grip as you cleared your throat. His eyes snapped to yours and he shifted where he stood. He was going to speak, maybe? Hand you your jacket, but you suddenly turned away and walked back into your room, leaving the door open.

Bucky cursed to himself under his breath. Were you upset? Ready to chew him out? Why were you half naked in front of him like it was nothing? Why did blood suddenly start pumping behind his briefs the more he thought about it?

"You coming in or what?" he heard you call out, nearly flinching. He looked around the dark, empty lounge before he took slow steps inside and closed the door behind him. Your room was lit by just a lamp by your bed and was decorated to match your exact vibe--as he imagined countless times.

Bucky watched you stand there and organize your dresser. Again, so casual and unbothered in your tank and underwear. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze out of respect. Or perhaps so he didn't lose his mind.

"I meant to give this back." he said quietly as he extending his arm towards you. You look to your left and see him holding out your jacket. His face half obscured by his long hair and the shadows casting over him.

"You can hand it to me." you said. "I don't bite."

He huffed softly and took a few steps toward you. His eyes still trying to look literally anywhere else. You grabbed his shoulders and had him stand in front of you, but what confused him was when the sound of you spraying perfume in the air hit his ears, and then came the very scent that landed him here in the first place filled his nostrils. He blinked a few times and turned to the side but you caught him by the bicep, looking him in the eyes with that soft glow casting over one side of your face.

The feeling of your hands clinging onto him made the cogs turn in his brain and on top of all that, it just occurred to you how fucking massive he really is. Dude's a god damn unit and that red Henley was no joke.

"It's okay," you said and sunk down to your knees. "Finish what you started."

Bucky's brows furrowed as his heart raced to jump out of his chest. He watched you look up at him and tensed at the feeling of your hands on the sides of his thighs. He was stiff at first from pure confusion but overcome with lust he couldn't control. And you? You noticed.

"I'm not upset about the bathroom." you said while gently palm him through his sweats. He inhaled sharply and balled his flesh hand into a fist to keep himself grounded, the metal still gripping the jacket.

"And I want you to finish what you started," you repeated in a soft whisper. He swallowed thickly and shuddered.

"You want me...to..." he started, his fist loosening but his throat went dry.

"Finish on me."

It sounded like a demand. Like he'd be bound to whatever is holding him down until he completed this task you've given him.

"Would you like some incentive?" you added, but didn't wait for him to answer before you slowly brought the tank top straps down your shoulders to reveal your breasts. Your arms hooked under them to present them more clearly for him. His eyes widened and shut tightly afterwards as he reached down his pants and pulled his dick out. The cool air sending another shudder over him.

He grunted softly and opened his eyes, spitting into his hand and stroking himself to not only the lewd sight of your lit up expression, your beautifully--fucking perfect tits, but the smell of your perfume still permeating the air. Bucky clutched onto that jacket for dear life. He brought it back up to his face to muffle his growing moans and groans.

It was pure greed. All of this. He didn't deserve such a moment, he thinks, and yet still he whimpered and bucked into his own hand from the pace he set.

You could tell how pent up he was, the way his brows twitched upwards and his breaths became shallow. Every time he'd curse and tighten his fist around the shaft. How you wondered what his obsession was with the way you smelled. His addiction. The many nights he would fall asleep to the thought of fucking you after an intense training session or how your lips would look wrapped around him, messy and puffy from the force.

How he just wanted to see what it'd be like to pick you up and feel your thighs around him. What it'd be like if it were you jerking him off instead, looking him in the eyes and telling him he's not allowed to cum until you say so. To explore you and see what makes you tick. To hear you whispering his name in a desperate attempt to keep quiet. To hold you by the neck and watch you watch yourself unravel in front of that mirror. To creampie you and mark his territory. To bury his face in your chest while kneading at you like a cat. To be the only man in your mind and for you to just understand that you are only woman in this god forsaken world that does this to him. Makes him feel like this for the first time in a long. Fucking. Time.

As long as he got to be in proximity of your scent. He'd be satisfied for the rest of his life.

Bucky came. Hard. Every sound he made was poured into that piece of fabric. He was whiny and almost boyish. Heavy breaths and hot white ropes coming out of him were your sole focus. He opened his eyes with slightly burred vision and exhaled. His cum, all over your chest and some caught on your face and tongue. You made sure he watched as you swallowed.

He let out a short breath that was shaky and released himself from his own grip. You stood up and saw him look at you with guilt in his eyes.

"I'm sorry." he muttered softly, his eyes darting to the mess he only intended to land on your chest. You sighed softly and turned around to face the mirror, making him drop the jacket and wrap his arms around you so his chest was pressed against your back. You leaned back to whisper in his ear.

"Make it up to me."

#n3ptoonz #smut #bucky barnes imagine #civil war bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x reader

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sugurouge · 11 months ago

Text

— half of my heart : gojo satorū x f!reader x getō suguru

contains! — mdni: smut, alternative universe with good boy geto, polyarmory, a smidge of somnophilia, brat taming @ gojo, gojo says cunny once (i firmly believe he would use that word without shame), spanking, pet names (sweetheart, princess, (pretty) baby, good girl, love), hair pulling @ gojo, tiny bit of spit — 2.3k words

summary: spend a lovely morning with satosugu after they return from a very tiring mission. they missed you terribly <3

a/n: yes, i'm biased, but i hope you will enjoy bratty gojo!

The safest place on earth is right here, nestled tightly in the embrace of the man of your dreams. You cuddle close to his warm torso, seeking comfort as you explore your dreamlands. Suguru feels your fingers tug at his hand, and a tired smile adorns his face at the soft hums you make, seemingly lost in pleasurable dreams. You nuzzle against his neck, your chest pressed against his side as gentle breaths fan over the expanse of his shoulder area. His eyes flutter closed again, and Suguru allows himself a few more moments of peace, savouring the stillness with you in his arms.

This wonderful tranquillity is interrupted all too soon by the ivory-haired man behind you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as Satoru plants sloppy kisses along the back of your neck. To him, the time of the day doesn’t matter much when he has desires. Awake or not, he wants to feel more of you—no, all of you. Yet his greediness only makes you cuddle further into Geto, how annoying.

His hand slips beneath your shirt, rough fingertips grazing your stomach and sides before reaching your breasts, where Gojo teases your sensitive nipple, twisting and toying with it until you stir beneath him.

His mouth finds its way to your ear, and in a rare, sweet moment, he murmurs your most favourite set of words. “I love you. Missed you so, so much...” Yet, instead of leaning into Satoru’s affection, you press even closer to Suguru, who rewards you with soft kisses on your cheek and temple. Blue eyes meet dark purple ones over your shoulder once you sigh Suguru’s name in utter satisfaction. “Love you too, Suguru.”

The almost hurt expression on Gojo’s face makes Geto chuckle, he can clearly tell how much the mockery weighs on Satoru’s mind. Seems like you meed a reminder. His hand abandons your chest and trails along your body until he reaches the band of your panties. With much expertise does Gojo find his way between your thighs, to let his fingers tease your needy pussy. He nibbles on your earlobe, wetting your skin with his tongue as he pushes his fingers inside you. “'s not nice of you to just ignore me.”

He can also be not nice. So instead of giving you a moment to fully realise what is happening, Satoru scissors his digits to make you finally react to him, to reward himself with those beautiful yet tired little moans falling past your pretty lips. Encouraged, Satoru continues, pumping his fingers in and out until you can't help but puls around his fingers, yet once more leaning into Geto to seek his lips. Suguru, happily obliges, swallowing the moan of his name as you grind against Satoru’s hand.

A sharp spank against your ass tears your attention away from the man you’re kissing. You meet Satoru’s slightly pissed off stare as he leans in, jealousy and dismay swirling in those beautiful pools of blue. “‘It’s Satoru~, not Suguru~,” he mocks your moans, his fingers possessively digging into your hip, thumb gently rubbing circles into your skin. “I deserve your moans and kisses right n—hmppf.”

Before you can react, you find yourself squished between their bodies as Suguru reaches out to cradle the back of Satoru’s head. Long fingers find a home in the messy bedhead to pull him close and have their lips clash. Watching the two of them kiss always flips your stomach upside down as you grow equally timid and turned on by their beauty.

Just like the needy thing you are for them, you reach out for Satoru, your fingers tracing every muscle of his chest and abdomen. Your eyes flicker between the two most handsome men you know, their kiss deep and slow. Satoru’s soft moan against Suguru’s lips makes them both grin, and you can’t help but want to spoil your needy boyfriend as well.

The feeling of Suguru’s and your lips on Satoru’s body sends shivers down his spine. His hips roll against your ass, pushing his growing erection right into the plush of your butt. He really needs to pull away before he gets too desperate this early on.

Wide blue eyes stare into Geto’s dark ones before they both turn their attention to you. Satoru plants a kiss on your forehead, the teasing remark of, “Finally paying attention to me, princess,” only a petty murmur before his lips find yours. Gojo entangles you in a deep kiss and you part your lips almost immediately, like you’re hungry to taste him—to taste Suguru on his tongue—as your tongues intertwine.

Your fingers have long since found their way into his hair, brushing through his slightly tangled locks until you grasp the back of his neck, holding him as close as possible. Long and lithe fingers run along your hip and another hand—rougher and more demanding— swiftly pulls off your slick-coated panties. Satoru spreads your thighs as Suguru’s fingers tease your clenching entrance, to allow himself easy access.

“Suguru..” you mewl. To which Gojo only kisses you again, not allowing you any room to catch air or praise Geto. Suguru’s fingertips trace circles on your clit, yet as soon as you seem to get slightly adjusted to his pattern he changes it up. Drawing infinite loops or delivering soft spanks until your hips jerk in response. His palm cups your pussy gently, and his sultry voice murmurs sweet praises for you. “Being such a good girl for us,” to cloud your senses.

Satoru grins proudly once he pulls back, shamelessly watching Suguru’s middle and ring fingers pump into you. The squelching sound of your wetness coating Geto’s fingers makes Satoru’s mouth water—God, how badly he wants to eat you out.

“Always so needy to have Suguru’s fingers stuffed inside your cute cunny, isn’t that right, pretty baby?” Satoru teases as he leans in, faking a kiss before briefly brushing his lips against yours. “Always greedy to be the centre of attention.”

Satoru misses how his words make your quiet partner roll his eyes. And Suguru steals a choked moan from Satoru as soon as his slick-coated fingers wrap around his erection, stroking Satoru’s cock and smearing his pre-cum and your arousal along his shaft. “Always so needy to have Suguru’s fingers wrapped around your cock,” Geto shoots back as he looks deeply into Satoru’s eyes, his lips never failing to comfort you as he leaves soft kisses on your temple and hairline.

You giggle upon their teasing while your hands return to roam over Satoru’s abs, your nails dig into his skin as your fingers rake over his flexed muscles. His moans are always so beautiful, but especially so when he moans Suguru’s name right next to your ear.

“God, I need to fuck you so desperately, sweetheart,” Satoru groans as his hips jerk forward and the tip of his cock teases your clit. The brief feeling of your slicked walls brings him close to begging for Geto to guide him inside you. Satoru’s hand fists the pillow you're resting on, panting and grinning in defeat as his head falls against your chest. “Suguru, please, I just wanna make her feel good. Look at her, fuck, our princess makes a mess of our sheets. Don’t wanna waste a drop of it.”

But Suguru only scoffs at the selfless proclamations. Cue his grip tightening around Satoru’s cock to drag his fist up to the tip with each move. “You’re even more desperate if you beg me to stop, Satoru.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing, utterly turned on by the control Suturu holds over Satoru. Your hand digs into Geto’s thigh, and you turn your head to look at him, puppy eyes begging for permission.

“Shit, I am. I am, Suguru. I missed her pretty pussy so much while we were gone, please.”

Oh, to see Geto’s grin is what Christmas felt like when you were a child—the dimples on his cheeks and the glimmer of joy in his eyes, softening his dominant aura just a little. “So needy,” he murmurs, yet still releases Gojo.

Instead, he tilts your chin up to get a taste of you for himself. Suguru’s kisses are slow and passionate. They leave your head spinning and your heart racing while his thumb gently brushes over your cheek.

That is, until you feel Satoru’s cock rub along your folds and spread your arousal along with his pre-cum. He stimulates your clit while he hisses over the awfully delicious feeling before finally pushing the tip inside your tight walls. He enters you gradually, relishing the feeling of your cunt accommodating his girth before giving one determined thrust to connect your hips with his. “God, yes, thank you,” Satoru murmurs.

His hand rubs your side and pulls your shirt up to reveal your pretty tits. He loves to see them bounce with every deep thrust of his. Gentle traces over your neck and cheek spoil your skin, his fingertips feel the vibrations of your moans as the are being knocked out of your lungs. You have to break away from Suguru—who did such a great job of swallowing your moans.

Satoru allows his hips to smack against yours the moment he feels you relax around him, relishing the sound of your pussy squelching around and sucking him in. “Good fucking girl,” he mumbles. “Taking such good care of me, hmm?”

As if on cue, you feel Suguru’s arm snake beneath your back, adjusting your position so you rest against his chest. His free hand returns to playing with your clit, pinching the sensitive nub and teasing your pulsing lips with his nails. “Let me look after you as well,” Suguru murmurs, and Satoru curses as you tighten around his cock.

But he can’t stop now, too desperate to give you time to calm down. He needs you to cream around his cock, wants to make a complete mess of you in the early morning hours, then return to sleep with you in his arms.

His fingers dig into the back of your thighs, to push them up against your sides, effectively spreading you further for his dick to deeply penetrate you. His hips smack against yours with every drag of his inside you, moans of yours and his mix when your lips meet.

Sometimes you hate how well they can work together. Especially when they manage to make you cum in what seems like seconds. The pretty red tip of Gojo’s cock hits your spongy spot with expertise while Geto’s fingers play with your clit just the way you like it.

“S-stop, please, don’t want to cum already, Satoru, S-Suguru!” you complain, your lower lip trembling as you try to fight off the overwhelming pleasure threatening to crash over you.

“Nuh-uh,” Satoru pants. His thrusts slow but become harder, jolting your body against Suguru with each deep stroke. “I’m going to make you cum again and again, baby.”

“We,” Suguru butts in and leaves a punishing spank to your pussy as if you were the one who forgot about him.

You whine over the pleasurable pain, legs twitching against Satoru’s hips as they attempt to close and hide your sensitive sex.

“Now cum for us, love, cream all over Satoru’s pretty cock. I know you want to,” Suguru whispers the words into your ear. Your head lolls back against his shoulder, your mouth falling slack as moans pour from your lips and your hips rock against Satoru’s. The blissful feeling of weightlessness, the tingling coursing through your body, and your pussy making a mess around Satoru’s cock is pure heaven.

Satoru accepts defeat the moment you cum. God, two weeks without you really put a quick end to his performance, he must shamefully admit. How you tighten around his cock is simply too fucking satisfying to not pump you full with his load. He chuckles softly, shaking his head before a deep moan rumbles in his chest, forcefully smacking his hips against yours while seeking Suguru’s lips once more—Satoru always needs to kiss one of you whenever he cums.

The kiss is nothing but sloppy, saliva dribbles down Satoru’s chin as he shallowly thrusts inside you.The tiny moans and murmurs of his name coming from you are nothing but praise to him. “Your pussy’s too good, sweetie,” Satoru breathes. “How am I supposed to not pump you full of my cum when you hold on to me like that?” his body goes limp on top of yours, successfully caging you between the two men.

“I’m sorry, Satoru,” you whisper and actually sound guilty. Suguru can’t help but laug upon your words while he plays with ivory hair. “Don’t apologise, you know he talks big but can’t keep up.”

“Suguru!” you and Satoru say simultaneously, to which Geto only groans in reply as his head falls back against the pillow. Not ready to tackle you both at once one more time.

“For your information, I fuck her just right. Correct, baby?” Satoru peeks up at you, his soft eyes telling the tale of just how much he needs your praise.

Your whisper of “You’re perfect,” as you gently cradle his cheek brings his signature grin to Gojo’s lips, and he returns to resting his head on your chest as his eyes fall shut.

Yet the comfortable silence gets interrupted by the man behind you. “So… when is it my turn?” Suguru quietly asks. To which you clench around Satoru’s softening cock and the latter chokes on his breath, causing your cute giggle to fill the space. .

“Ah-, always so impatient, Suguru,” Gojo murmurs, yet hisses as soon as Geto tugs on his roots in return, the promising warning of “Don’t make me shut you up,” too delicious for Gojo to not lick his lips.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

#jjk x reader smut #geto x reader x gojo #gojo x reader smut #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #satosugu x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk x reader #geto x reader smut #about.nojo #about.suguru #jjk geto #jjk gojo

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sabrinasopposite · 1 month ago

Text

manchild; pilot.

anakin skywalker!70s x reader

summary: anakin skywalker starts his summer break as a heartbroken guy over the break up with padmé amidala, yet while he was drinking his blueberry slushy in a gas station by a desert highway, he met a girl called y/n y/l/n, who was a wild and free spirited girl with tons of flings. what if the summertime sadness turns into a fake relationship? anakin wants revenge and jealousy, and y/n wants fun and drama.

fake dating.

! warning: there will be a lot of sexual comments and references, just like cigarettes and alcohol

further questions, please ask me

ps: another warning... y/n is flawed and complex

next chapter: star-crossed lovers

summer, june 1972.

It was summer in the seventies — the kind that played like a worn vinyl, crackling under the heat of the Arizona sun. School was winding down like the last chorus of a slow-dance song at prom. One more year till college — a horizon Anakin Skywalker wasn’t ready to stare into. Not yet. Not when the sun still burned gold, the air hung heavy like incense, and the days blurred into a sleepy Technicolor haze.

He lived in a one-gas-pump desert town that looked like it’d been left behind by time — diners with flickering neon, drive-ins ghosted by tumbleweeds, and motels with signs that buzzed louder than their guests. People drifted away from here like smoke rings in the wind, but somehow, they always found their way back.

While the jukebox generation kicked off their summer-of-love dreams, Anakin’s own soundtrack had cracked mid-song. Padmé had left him at the end of spring semester — clean cut, no B-side explanation. And like a cruel twist of radio fate, two months later she was already holding hands with Rush Clovis — the kind of guy who wore poetry like cologne and probably read Kerouac for fun. The kind of guy who fit her world now.

It was golden hour — the kind of light that made everything glow like a photograph you want to live in. A breeze shuffled through the Arizona heat like a slow dance with no music. The final bell had rung, setting teenagers free with the excitement of open roads and Top 40 dreams. Talk swirled around — Bowie had a new track out, someone’s older brother just scored a new Camaro, and summer was theirs to burn.

But Anakin wasn’t thinking about any of that. He just stared off at the horizon like it might tell him something. His heart, cracked and splintered, still beat her name in every silence. Padmé walked past — glowing, laughing, alive. She wore high-waisted jeans and a lavender blouse that looked like it belonged in a Fleetwood Mac album cover. Like she was already living in a world Anakin couldn’t reach anymore.

Fives looked over at his friend — who hadn’t been the same since Padmé walked out of his life like the fadeout on a sad soul song.

“Dude… how long you gonna keep staring at her like she’s the second coming of Janis Joplin?” he asked, voice low but amused.

“Until I figure out her goddamn plan,” Anakin muttered, arms crossed over the hood of his battered ’68 Dodge Charger. The car was a wreck, always one gear-shift away from death — but it was his church, his therapist, and his war bunker. And, lately, his best spot to stake out the girl who used to be his whole universe.

Rex leaned beside him, the paper cup of cola sweating in his hand, eyes flicking to Padmé. “Her plan was a breakup, man. You still think it’s deeper than that?”

Anakin leaned back, exhaling like a tire losing air. “I know she dumped me, I do. But why, man. Why? She just woke up one day, flipped the record, and decided I didn’t belong on her playlist anymore. And now she’s with him. I mean, I still don’t understand how she just wakes up and decides to call it quits, then goes out with some guy the week after—- I mean I haven’t slept right since May. I’m running on empty and she already dates someone else.”

Fives gave him a look, pulled a cigarette from the inside pocket of his worn leather jacket — the kind of jacket that had probably seen more heartbreak than prom dates.

“Dude, you gotta let her go. I know it’s messy, and I know you really loved her — still do. But what’s your plan? Run after her until she turns around and says ‘never mind’?”

Anakin raked his fingers through his already chaotic hair. “Yeah, I know. I know. But I can’t just flip the switch. I’ve tried dating, I’ve tried letting go, but every time I do, I just keep hearing her laugh in my head or picturing how she used to look at me — and none of it compares, man. None of it.”

Fives sighed, cigarette hanging from his lips like punctuation. He lit it, took a drag, and offered one to Anakin.

“Yeah… I get it. Wasn’t easy for me and Jackie either. But eventually… it just stops mattering. Eventually, it fades. Like an old cassette left on the dashboard too long.”

Before Anakin could answer, Cal Kestis came jogging up, his ginger hair a windblown mess, eyes wide with adrenaline and teen mischief.

“Okay, okay — I scored the booze for your party, Rex,” he grinned, breathless. Then caught sight of Anakin’s stormcloud stare aimed squarely at Padmé and Clovis. “Jesus, man. You good?”

Anakin didn’t answer. Just kept watching her — like she was a dream he hadn’t woken up from yet. The kind that lingers in the morning haze and makes reality feel like a cheap knock-off.

Fives bumped his shoulder into him with brotherly force. “Peachy,” Anakin muttered, his eyes locked on Padmé and Clovis, tangled in a little sunlit world of their own.

He took the cigarette from Fives, the way a soldier accepts his last smoke before going back to war. A slow, pensive drag — the kind that fills your lungs and lets the silence hang just a little longer.

Rex gave Cal a nod, cracking a crooked smile. “Thanks, man. Well, our lover boy’s going through it — that’s why we’re gonna throw one hell of a beach party tonight, aye?” he grinned, sipping his cola like it was bourbon.

“Yessir,” Cal shot back, grin wide, sun catching in his wild hair. “You bet your ass! End of sophomore year, which means we’re gonna get hella piss drunk… except for Ani.” He slapped Anakin on the shoulder, just hard enough to jostle him back into the moment.

Anakin exhaled a plume of smoke, shooting Cal a sarcastic look. “Definitely,” he said, voice flat, but with the ghost of a smirk.

Fives furrowed his brows, puffing thoughtfully. “Dude, you haven’t touched alcohol in months. I know Padmé didn’t like it when you drank, but—bro, you can now.”

“I dunno…” Anakin muttered, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette, watching it drift like dust in the Arizona sun. “I know I can… I’m just not sure if I want to. I’ve been doing good. Staying sober, staying outta trouble.”

Rex chuckled dryly. “Yeah, but you smoke cigarettes like they’re your goddamn breakfast.”

“Yeah, but—” Anakin paused, his voice lowering, “Cigs help me concentrate. Keep me grounded. Booze… booze makes me spiral. And she hated that part of me.”

Fives leaned in, whispering like the devil on his shoulder. “But she’s goneeee, man,” he drawled with a mischievous grin. “Come on, Ani. Just a little sip tonight, a good ol’ beer, some tunes, bonfire, waves. Forget her. And I definitely know Rex invited some hot girls.”

Cal rolled his eyes and shot a look at Fives. “Fives, don’t even pretend like you’re gonna pull.”

Fives gasped dramatically. “Hey! Maybe some girls are into the bad boy with a soft heart vibe, ever think of that?”

Anakin actually chuckled — a real, worn-out laugh — as he reached for another cigarette. “I suppose you do have a point, Fives. I could… loosen up tonight. A few beers, some laughs, maybe even forget her for, like, five minutes.”

Fives clapped his hands, triumphant. “That’s my man!” he shouted, placing both hands on Anakin’s shoulders like he’d just won a football game.

Rex groaned. “Oh god,” rubbing his temple at Fives’ volume.

Anakin laughed again and shoved Fives back playfully. “All right, all right! I’ll come to your stupid party. But don’t expect me to be a full-blown drunkard, alright?”

He raised the cigarette to his lips again, a sly grin forming in the corner of his mouth.

Rex gave him a nod. “Got it, Skywalker. Alright boys, I gotta bounce and get the setup going. Also, if you see Obi-Wan, tell him I said hey.”

Anakin shook Rex’s hand, firm. “Will do, Rex.”

Then, turning to Fives, his smirk deepened. “You’re probably heading off now to ‘pick up girls’, huh?”

Fives winked, already walking backward like he was on a stage. “You know me.” He threw up his hands and, in perfect Fives fashion, backed right into a group of girls. They giggled as he spun around, arms wide. “Girls!!” And just like that, he vanished — swallowed by the scene like a Saturday night fever dream.

Anakin shook his head, grinning. “Damn dude… what a player,” he muttered under his breath, though the words tasted half like envy, half like pride.

He tossed his cigarette down, crushed it beneath his black Converse, and turned once more — instinctively — toward Padmé. She was laughing now, head tilted back, Clovis’s arm around her shoulders like she belonged there. They looked like a Polaroid of something Anakin didn’t get to be part of anymore. Too perfect. Too damn fast.

He made a face — disgusted, bitter, hurt — all tangled into one sharp look. Then he turned, walked to his Charger, and slid in with a familiar creak of old leather and old memories.

The key turned. Nothing.

“C’mon…” he whispered, already knowing how this would go.

He hit the dash. Nothing.

He cursed under his breath and kicked the clutch. The car grumbled, sputtered… and finally, with a wheezing growl, roared to life like a beast waking from sleep.

Anakin gripped the wheel and took a long, shaky breath. He looked up at the rearview mirror and there he was. Red-rimmed eyes. Messy curls. Wrinkled shirt and a face that looked like it hadn’t believed in sleep since April.

A ghost in the driver’s seat. He slammed a hand against the wheel. “Damn it all…”

Outside, the sun dipped further, turning the town into a dusty painting of goodbye. That Arizona glow—amber and honey-thick—draped everything like a fading record sleeve from a summer hit long past its prime. Inside that Charger, Anakin sat with the weight of a love lost, an engine rumbling beneath him, and a party waiting at the edge of night like a mirage.

He leaned back, elbow against the window frame, letting the warm wind tangle his curls. As the car coasted through the town’s familiar arteries, time seemed to drip slow like molasses on vinyl. The neon flicker of the old drive-in. The rust-flaked grocery sign spinning in lazy circles. The diner where his uncle played old Motown records in the back and always smelled like fry oil and sunburnt coffee. All of it passed by like ghosts waving from a moving train.

Eventually, he pulled into the gravel drive of his two-story house—paint peeling, porch swing swaying with no one in it. Home, for whatever that word meant anymore.

And later, down at the beach, the world had shifted. The sun was gone now, tucked beneath the horizon like an old photograph sliding back into its envelope. Stars blinked alive above them, scattered across the sky like dust from a shattered disco ball.

The beach pulsed with life—Fleetwood Mac’s “Rhiannon” spun from someone’s truck radio, Stevie Nicks’ voice haunting the salt-heavy air with that silk-and-fire sadness that always knew how to dig into the bruised parts of a heart.

The bonfire cracked and cast golden glows across laughing faces. Boys and girls tangled together—some kissed like they’d never get another chance, others drowned themselves in lukewarm beer and the feeling of now.

Anakin lingered on the outskirts of it all, his converse sinking into the cool sand. He sipped slowly from his beer, its taste dull and heavy on his tongue. That’s when she stumbled up—Cordé, tipsy and sun-kissed, wrapped in a pink bikini and cutoff shorts. Her brown hair curled wild over her shoulders, catching the firelight like it had been dipped in bronze.

“Heeey, Skywalker,” she purred, brushing her fingers along his arm with a confidence borrowed from booze and fleeting nights.

Anakin looked up with a small nod. Recognized her from school, vaguely. Padmé’s orbit. A satellite girl. “Sup,” he muttered with a half-smile, lifting the bottle to his lips again.

She leaned in close, her words slurring like a song caught in a warped tape. “You know I always liked you, right??? Like, Padmé didn’t deserve you…” At the sound of her name, Anakin’s smile cracked a little, like the first fracture in windshield glass. But he shook it off, forcing a shrug.

“Yeah, I know,” he said dryly. “You’re not the first one to tell me that.”

Cordé leaned more into him, fingers trailing over the rings on his hand—old silver, worn and nicked from too many nights punching through walls of emotion. “You deserve waaay better… I could m—”

Anakin pulled back, too fast, his body rejecting the contact before his mind could even process it.

“Look, Cordé,” he said, more tired than angry, “you’re a nice girl. Really. But I’m just here to try and forget…”

He looked over then, and of course, there she was—Padmé. Laughing like the ocean had whispered something sweet into her ear. Tucked under Clovis’ arm like she’d been there forever. Like she’d never belonged to him.

He stood up suddenly, the sand resisting his converse. His voice cut low. “Sorry, but I gotta go.”

Cordé blinked, confused. “Wait—where you going?” she called out, her words dissolving in the breeze.

“Doesn’t matter.” He said it sharp, like a closing door.

He walked away—storm-eyed and stiff-jawed—past the bonfire, past the haze of liquor and perfume, past all of it. Rex and Hunter spotted him, their relaxed posture shifting when they caught the flicker of fury in his silhouette. “Anakin, hey,” Rex called out, standing up. “Where you going, man?”

But Anakin didn’t stop. The tide was pulling him somewhere else—somewhere colder. Rex reached for his arm, and this time, it worked. Anakin turned, eyes dark and jaw tight. “Yeah—Rex, I gotta go.”

“No, you’re not going anywhere.” Rex’s voice rose, more from worry than command. Hunter stood behind him, arms folded, unreadable as always.

“What’s the matter with you, Anakin?” Hunter asked, stern and grounded like thunder. “You’ve been acting like a jerk all night.”

Anakin laughed bitterly, eyes wild and distant. “Sorry I’m not into sucking tits of girls tonight,” he said, sharp like broken glass.

But Rex saw through it. He always did. Saw the raw ache swimming just beneath the sarcasm.

Rex’s grip loosened, his voice softening. “Dude, this isn’t about girls, and you know it. This is about Padmé.”

Anakin didn’t speak. The firelight flickered across his face, casting shadows that looked too much like heartbreak.

“Look—- I didn’t know she was coming tonight,” Rex added gently. “I’m sorry, man. I think it was Sabé who brought her.” “It’s fine,” Anakin muttered, jaw working again. He stared out at the crowd, at them. “I should’ve known better than to come here anyway.”

Rex stepped forward, about to speak again, but Hunter’s hand landed on his shoulder like a warning bell. “Rex—if he doesn’t want to be here, we can’t force him.”

Rex clenched his jaw, frustrated. “But we invited him. He agreed. We can’t just let him leave like this.” He turned back to Anakin, voice quieter now—earnest. “Anakin, come on, dude. Just… please stay a bit longer, okay? We’ll keep you distracted. I promise.”

Anakin sighed, shoulders sagging like a wave had just passed through him. His fingers played absentmindedly with the rings on his hand—twisting them, like turning old regrets. “Not tonight, Rex…” His voice was quieter now, softened around the edges. “But I promise you, I’ll come to your next party. That’s a promise.”

And somehow, the way he said it made Rex believe him. The kind of promise that still sounded like Rumors spinning on a turntable—fleeting, maybe, but real in that moment.

Rex gave him a look—half proud, half broken. “Alright, man,” he said, stepping aside.

Anakin nodded and turned away, the sand cool under his feet, the sky too wide, the night too heavy.

Anakin walked back to his car, the ocean sounds dimming behind him as if the night itself was moving in slow motion. He’d had a few beers, sure—but his head was still clear enough to drive. Or at least, that’s what he told himself. The weight pressing down on his chest wasn’t the alcohol. It was something heavier, slower—something like regret soaked in gasoline.

He slipped into the driver’s seat with a sigh, the leather cold against his back. The cigarette found its home between his lips like it belonged there, and he lit it with a flick that had muscle memory behind it. The engine coughed, groaned, then roared to life—old and temperamental like some broken-down warhorse. The radio crackled on just as the cigarette’s cherry began to glow.

Nirvana buzzed through the static like a voice from inside his ribs. He tapped the wheel in rhythm, eyes narrowed, the wind threading through his hair like phantom fingers. Smoke curled around his face as the Charger hummed down the empty desert road. The stars above him were endless—flickering reminders that the universe didn’t care whether Padmé still loved him or not.

Then, there it was. That old gas station neon burning softly in the distance, glowing like a memory someone forgot to turn off. A familiar landmark on the map of his boyhood. He smirked a little—blue raspberry slushie, the unofficial cure for heartbreak since ’08. He flicked his cigarette out the window with a casual snap, embers scattering like fireflies in the wind, and pulled into the station with the kind of parking job that said, I’ve had a night.

Didn’t matter.

The bell above the door jingled as he walked in, the smell of oil, sugar, and faded linoleum wrapping around him like an old denim jacket. The place looked like it had been untouched since 1956—chrome stools, jukebox in the corner playing a half-slowed Elvis song, and faded pinup posters curled at the edges.

“Hey Dex,” he said, voice low and worn.

Behind the counter, the old man turned—grease-stained apron, hands thick like they’d held a thousand engines. His face broke into a grin, warm and wide. “Well, look who it is! Skywalker, my boy! Haven’t seen you around in a while. What brings you in tonight?”

Anakin chuckled softly, the sound more air than joy, and reached over the counter for a handshake. Dex’s hand was firm, familiar. The kind of grip that reminded Anakin there were still people in this world who remembered who he was before the heartbreak, before the detachment.

“Ah, just… craving a slushie and a pack of cigarettes,” he said, flicking his hair back with the edge of his hand.

Dex’s eyes twinkled with the kind of knowing that came from years of watching lost boys pretend they weren’t. “Ah, I get that. Sometimes you just need a little something to quiet the noise.”

He reached under the counter and slid a pack of cigarettes forward like it was an offering.

“And I remember you always loved my slushies. The blueberry one, wasn’t it?”

Anakin smirked, that rare kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He reached for his wallet inside his leather jacket. “It astonishes me more that you still remember.”

Dex waved him off with a slow shake of the head. “Please, my boy. It’s on the house. Call it a friendship tax write-off.”

He turned and began working on the slushie—one scoop, two, slow and methodical, as if even sadness deserved ceremony. Anakin leaned on the counter, letting himself breathe for the first time that night.

And then it happened.

The screech of tires outside shattered the stillness like a cymbal crash in a love song. Anakin’s eyes snapped to the window just in time to see a modern Mustang lurch to a stop—gleaming, expensive, arrogant. The passenger door burst open and a girl stumbled out, her voice cutting through the quiet like glass. “Fucking stupid manchild!” she yelled, full of venom and fire.

She slammed her heel against the door with all the force of a woman who’d had enough, then raised a middle finger as the Mustang peeled away in a scream of rubber and cowardice. She stood there, fists clenched, hair wild, silhouetted in the neon glow of the station like a fallen angel still burning from the fall.

Dex glanced out the window, brow raised. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Youngsters. Always so much anger and haste in their hearts."”

Anakin didn’t say anything. Just watched her, eyes fixed, a straw slowly finding its way back between his lips. anakin didn’t say anything, just looked blankly at the girl.

The girl was none other than Y/N Y/L/N—chaotic, sun-kissed, and burning like a fire left untended too long. Her presence was like a breeze laced with gasoline: beautiful, dangerous, and full of promise. She strutted into the station like she owned the damn place, her curls bouncing wildly with every furious step, catching in the neon glow. Her knotted white shirt clung to her chest like a forgotten summer memory. Her jean cut-offs were frayed and faded, high on her thighs like the edge of a secret.

Anakin watched her with that stunned, quiet look—like she was a ghost from a song he hadn’t played in years.

They had history, buried beneath layers of time, heat, and unspoken things.

Back then, they were kids on rusted bikes, daring each other to steal fire from the gods—or at least a Snickers bar from Dex’s. She always dared. He always followed. Summer nights filled with match flames, soda fizz, and laughter that echoed off the hollow skeletons of empty houses. He was wide-eyed, trying to be brave. She was barefoot with chalk on her palms and paint under her nails, already wild with the grief she didn’t yet know was coming.

Then time shifted. Like all things do. When her mom died, she disappeared from the inside out.

And Anakin? He went the other direction—louder, sharper, faster. Grease on his hands, silver rings on his fingers, anger he never named. She watched him from across the school halls. He never looked back.

Until now.

She walked in, barefaced and defiant, lips glossed cherry red like rebellion in a tube. She looked at the two men inside—one old, one made of shadows—and offered a sugar-slick “Evening, men,” like she hadn’t just been screaming outside like a thunderstorm in heels.

Dex raised his hand, smiling warmly. “Evening to you too, Miss Y/L/N.”

Anakin didn’t smile. He just gave her a nod. That Skywalker kind—part greeting, part warning, all unresolved memory. He felt something twist in his chest at the sight of her.

“What brings you here so late?” Dex asked, leaning onto the counter, eyes kind but shrewd.

Y/N shrugged, grabbing a pack of gum like it mattered, then turned on her heel—heels click click like gunshots across linoleum—and went to the fridge. The beer clinked softly as she grabbed one.“Eh, just getting something to drink,” she said, breezy as a summer lie.

Dex raised an eyebrow, his smile never quite leaving. “Just something to drink, huh? Are you sure you’re not running from something, kid?”

She walked back, the fridge door sighing shut behind her, and she set her things down beside Anakin’s slushie. Y/N looked like a movie character or like a hippie but with much femininity and risqué. but her personality was somehow, casual and free minded. chaotic even. She had rings on nearly every knuckle, mismatched like her moods. “Dex,” she said with a smirk, eyes gleaming, “if I were running from something, it wouldn’t be in these heels.”

Dex laughed, full and amused. “Touché. But you’re still full of it.”

Anakin stayed quiet. He was leaning on the counter, taking slow sips from his slushie, but his gaze had barely left her. She had that kind of gravity. Always did. A chaos that pulled without asking permission.

Y/N slid some money out from her bra with the same confidence as someone lighting a match. Casual. Intimate. Unapologetic.“Trust me,” she said, placing the money down beside her beer and gum, “this is the best option I’ve got right now.”

Then her eyes flicked to Anakin’s drink, lips curling into that familiar smirk. “Damn,” she said, voice dipped in dry sarcasm. “They let sad boys buy slushies now?”

Anakin’s jaw clenched slightly. He met her gaze without flinching, slushie straw still between his fingers. “You’re one to talk, princess. Last I heard, you were breaking hearts left and right.”

Y/N chuckled. Low, amused. She bent slightly, resting her elbow on the counter and chin in her hand like a cat playing with a bird. “Who said these rumors?” she said.

Everyone in school knew the real stories. Padmé had left Anakin. Then started to date Clovis. And Y/N? She was the girl who never stayed. Summer flings like cigarettes—quick, intoxicating, and over before the pack ran out.

But between her smirk and his quiet intensity, something hung in the air that neither beer nor slushie could cool.

Maybe it was the ghosts of bike rides and stolen candy. Maybe it was the fact that they never really said goodbye. Maybe it was just that they were both tired of pretending the past didn’t exist.

Dex, ever the oracle behind the counter, just watched them in silence.

Anakin looked at the crumpled bills in her hand, his gaze lingering a moment too long over the lines of her wrist, the chipped polish, the rings she always wore like armor. Then his eyes flicked back to her face—calm, unreadable. He rolled his eyes with the same nonchalance he’d perfected over the years.

“You know how gossip spreads in this town,” he said, voice low and flat. “But let’s not pretend, Y/L/N—you’ve always had your fair share of flings.”

Y/N grabbed her beer and gum, her eyes soft but casual—those doe eyes that always masked sharp thoughts. “Lord,” she said, arching a brow, “because it’s a crime to have a bit of fun in life, right?”

Anakin shook his head, a dry laugh undercutting the tension. But there was a flicker of something—irritation, maybe. Or something less honest.

“I never said it was a crime,” he said, his voice a little tighter. “But there’s a difference between having fun and using people. Or are you too busy having fun to care about that?”

Y/N said nothing at first. Just placed a fingertip—ringed and casual—on the top of her beer. She twisted it with one smooth motion, the cap popping off with a small hiss of rebellion.

“Oh, come on, Skywalker,” she said, voice cool, amused. “I don’t break hearts. That’s not really my thing.”

And it was true. Her reputation wasn’t for destruction. It was detachment. No false promises, no lingering stares in the hallway the next morning. Just soft lips, tangled sheets, and the unspoken agreement that some people weren’t meant to stay.

Anakin snorted. He had that same half-smirk now, the one he wore like a defense mechanism.

“Right,” he said, a little bitter. “No-strings-attached, that’s your thing, isn’t it? Just in it for your own pleasure.”

Y/N stepped closer, pressing the cold beer can lightly against his chest. Her voice didn’t rise, her gaze didn’t waver.

“Hey, man,” she said, flat and honest. “I’m not the one who broke your heart, alright? So don’t throw your sad-boy lectures at me. Save it for that chick who actually hurt you.”

The smirk dropped off his face for half a second. Just long enough for the honesty to cut through.

He looked down at the beer, then up again. “And why do you care?” he asked, voice quieter now. “Shouldn’t you be off with one of your flings—having fun, not giving a damn about anyone else?”

Y/N gave a crooked grin, taking a long sip from the bottle. “I wanted to,” she said with a shrug. “But my fling turned out to be an asshole.”

And with that, she turned back to Dex, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Thanks, Dex!” she called, stepping backward, her shoulders still squared.

Then she pushed open the door with the curve of her back, and the desert air swallowed her whole. The door closed with a soft thud, and Anakin stood there, slushie in hand, heart pacing like a slow drum against his ribs. Anger. Confusion. A strange, magnetic ache that never really left when it came to her.

Dex had been watching all along. Like he always did. Quiet eyes, kind mouth. The man had seen more heartbreak in his diner than a whole town’s worth of country songs. “You and Miss Y/L/N, huh?” Dex said, wiping the counter down with a rag. “Some tense there?”

Anakin scoffed lightly, stirring the bottom of his slushie with the straw. “A bit,” he said. Then shook his head. He didn’t think. He just moved.

The door creaked again as he stepped out, gravel crunching beneath his converse. The night was cooler now, the neon lights from the gas station flickering in lazy hues—blue, gold, red—like a half-forgotten dream trying to stay alive.

She was standing just outside, beer on the ground, a cigarette perched between her lips like a worn-in habit. The breeze pushed her curls back slightly, the smoke curling up toward the stars like a prayer no one meant to say out loud.

She didn’t look surprised to see him. “Oh,” Y/N said with a smirk, eyes flicking to him sidelong. “Missed me already?”

Anakin didn’t answer. He just walked over and stood beside her, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the dark horizon.

Y/N picked up her beer again and took a sip, letting the cigarette rest between her fingers. The music inside the station buzzed faintly through the door—Fleetwood Mac still crooning out into the night.

Anakin finally spoke, barely above a whisper. “You still smoke menthols?”

Y/N gave a soft laugh through her nose. “Only when I’m mad,” she said. “Or nostalgic.”

Anakin nodded once, watching the smoke disappear into the desert sky.

“Well,” he said, his voice half-joking, half-sincere, “you always did mix chaos with charm.”

Y/N smoked slow and steady, arms crossed over her chest like armor, the cigarette dancing between her fingers as she extended the pack toward him. “Definitely,” she said, voice lazy like a cat in the sun. “You changed though.”

Anakin took the pack, their fingers brushing—just enough to short-circuit something in him for half a second. He struck a match against his boot heel and lit up, the flare of orange flickering in his eyes.

“Changed, huh?” he asked, exhaling the first drag like a sigh. “In what way?”

Y/N walked toward the curb, cigarette hanging from her lips, her hair catching the breeze like wildfire. The white of her shirt glowed under the low light, and those jean shorts did nothing to help his already scattered thoughts.

She didn’t look back when she answered. “This super-wannabe-greaser version of you,” she said plainly, dropping down onto the curb, legs crossed. She didn’t say it cruel—just the kind of honest only she could get away with.

Anakin followed, slower, quieter. Watched the way she sat like she owned the sidewalk, the stars, the whole damn desert if she wanted to.

He sat beside her, elbows resting on his knees. “So…Skywalker,” she said after a beat, taking a sip of her beer, “why are you really here? Sippin’ that heartbroken slushie like a sad movie extra?”

Anakin chuckled, surprised she remembered what he always ordered. “What can I say? Sometimes a man just needs frozen blueberry to deal with a broken heart.”

Y/N popped a piece of gum into her mouth and grinned. “Ah, now we’re admitting we’re heartbroken.” She tilted her head at him, half-smirk playing at her glossed lips. “That slushie’s turning your cold heart into a sweet one.”

He laughed, the sound loose for the first time in weeks. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You’re just jealous my slushie’s better than your beer.”

She sipped it defiantly. “Nope. My beer relaxes me. Your slushie’s just brain freeze in a cup.”

She set the bottle down, turned toward him slightly. “So, why aren’t you at your homies’ party?”

Anakin leaned back, fingers splayed across the pavement. “Just needed a breather. Couldn’t deal with all the noise and drunken idiots.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Mmm. Liar.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “What makes you think that?”

She chewed her gum slowly, tapping ash from her cigarette like it was punctuation.

“Because I know when someone’s lying. And you? You left because Padmé was there.”

Anakin’s expression darkened. His jaw tensed like old reflex. He looked away, letting the smoke drift from his lips instead of answering. “So what if I did?” he muttered. “Why do you care?”

Y/N lifted her hands like a peace sign. “Chill, I’m not here to clown on your heartbreak.”

She crossed her bare legs, cool as ever.

Anakin sighed, the weight dropping out of his chest a little. He looked over at her, and this time there was something raw behind his eyes. “I just… I can’t seem to escape her. Even when I try.”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. She watched him—really watched him—but kept her face still. The same face that used to laugh until it ached on hot summer nights. It was weird, talking to him again. But then again, her night was already shot. Her so-called fling turned out to be a first-class jerk with zero rhythm.

She sipped her beer again, then wrinkled her nose like she remembered something sour.

“Yeah, well, let me tell you—Clovis? Not good in bed.”

Anakin choked on a laugh, head whipping toward her. “Nice to know I’m not the only one with a vendetta.” His smirk was back now, crooked and dangerous, but warmer than it had been in days.

Y/N shot him a sly grin, but her eyes stayed out on the highway. “Why’d she dump you anyway?”

Anakin exhaled hard. His cigarette burned low between his fingers. “She said she wanted to focus on herself. Her ambitions. Said we were holding each other back.”

Y/N clicked her tongue, unimpressed. “Damn. That’s some Hallmark movie excuse right there.”

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “You’re preaching to the choir. Clovis is a total ass.”

He took one last drag, flicked the bud out into the dark, watching the ember fizzle against the gravel.

Y/N looked up at the sky, eyes glassy under the haze of citylight and desert stars. “Yeah—I slept with him twice. Only ‘cause I needed his homework.” She said it like it was no big deal, like it was just another Tuesday.

Anakin stared at her, half-shocked. “Wait. You slept with him for homework?”

Y/N grinned, wicked and proud. “I’m a genius.” She sipped her beer, gum snapping softly. “Besides, I hated Mrs. Jocasta. And Clovis kept bragging about his grades, so I figured—might as well get something out of it.”

Anakin was still recovering from that bombshell when she turned the conversation again, voice soft but cutting.

“Anyway—listen, Skywalker. She’s not worth it.” She met his eyes now, fully. No smirks. No gum popping. “I mean it. Padmé’s like every other girl in this high school. Polished on the outside, but not a clue how to love someone who doesn’t fit in a pretty little box.”

Anakin’s stare held hers, long and unreadable. Something in him wanted to argue, maybe even defend Padmé. But more of him was tired. Tired of pretending it didn’t sting. Tired of playing it cool when all he wanted was something real. “I just… I don’t know. Thought she was different, ya know?”

Y/N turned to him, softer now. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the wind, maybe it was just old muscle memory kicking in from nights long gone. She wanted to understand—maybe not to heal him, but at least to hear him. “What did you even like about her?” she asked, not judgmental. Just curious. Like trying to understand a song someone kept on repeat.

Anakin leaned back, shoulders folding in like a wilted paperback. “Everything, I guess. She was smart. Kind. Beautiful—like she stepped out of a dream I wasn’t supposed to have. She just… got me. Saw through all my bullshit and still wanted me anyway.”

Y/N gave a slow nod, cigarette balanced between her fingers like an afterthought. “Huh—sounds romantic. How long were you two doing that heartbreak waltz?”

He looked away, the horizon smearing into amber and shadows. “Not as long as I wanted. Off and on for a while. But… two years, officially.”

Y/N let out a theatrical gasp, almost offended on his behalf. “Damn.” Her voice carried down the street like a thrown match. “That’s, like—- okay you know, It’s okay to cry about her,—two years is a lot.”

Anakin chuckled, low and rough. “Nah, I won’t cry about her. She doesn’t deserve my tears.”

But even as he said it, the ache behind his eyes told on him.

Y/N raised a skeptical brow, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, that nonchalant look? Doesn’t work on you.” She pointed a polished nail at his face. “The evidence is here, dumbass.” Her finger hovered near the tired smudges under his eyes.

Anakin sighed, dragging a hand through his already-messy hair. The weight sat heavy in his bones. “I guess I can’t fool you.”

“Never could,” she said, lips curled into that signature crooked grin. “And also—come on, you’re too pretty to pout for free.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, but a smirk tugged at his lips. “You really know how to boost a guy’s ego, don’t you? First I’ve got heartbreaker eyes, now I’m too pretty to pout?”

Y/N shrugged, dramatic as ever, pouting for emphasis. “And it worked. I know men more than you realize.” She stood up with a theatrical sigh, brushing off imaginary dust from her shorts. Her beer clinked lightly against the curb as she stepped out onto the street to glance around.

Anakin watched her with amusement. “Oh really? And what exactly do you know about men?” he asked, lifting a brow.

She raised her hand, thumb pointing out, eyes scanning the road. “That if I do this,” she said, smirking, “someone will stop.”

Anakin blinked. “You think just sticking your thumb out is enough?”

“It’s worked a couple times,” she said with a smirk and a shrug.

Anakin raised his brow, mildly impressed despite himself. “Well, look at you. Hitchhiking queen.”

Y/N nodded, hair catching the breeze like something out of an old photograph. “Man, I wish I could show you my trick—but it’s too late to catch a ride now.” She glanced down at him, still sitting curbside like some brooding James Dean knockoff.

Anakin smirked, letting the moment stretch. “Oh no, now I feel like I’m missing out. What’s this magical trick of yours?”

Y/N fidgeted with her shirt—tying the knot a bit tighter beneath her chest. It left her collarbones bare, skin sun-kissed and glowing under the flickering streetlamp. A very 70s look—half western, half rebellion. “To catch a ride home,” she said, matter-of-fact. “’Cause these heels? They’re not made to walk a mile.”

Anakin’s gaze flickered down—lingered a second too long. Her skin, the curve of her ribs, the exposed midriff. He looked away quickly, lips twitching. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “if you’re looking for a ride, I guess I can’t let a damsel in distress walk home in those heels.”

Y/N turned, faking a scandalized frown. “Wow. Damsel? Really? You just called me a helpless maiden?” But the corner of her mouth curled into a grin anyway. “…but I’ll take the offer though.”

She walked toward his car. Anakin stood slowly, brushing dust from his jeans, arms crossed as he watched her. “Don’t get used to it. This is a one-time deal.”

She tugged the door handle—stuck. Of course it was. “Yeah, don’t worry,” she said dryly, yanking harder. “Your car’s a piece of junk.”

Anakin walked up beside her, laughing under his breath. “It’s vintage, thank you very much.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s rust with wheels.” He popped the lock with a practiced hand and opened it for her. “Ladies first.” She gave him a side glance, dramatic as hell, then slid into the seat with an exaggerated groan.

“So,” she said as he circled the hood and got in, “where’s the playlist? Or are we driving in depressing silence like a sad film?”

Anakin grinned, key turning in the ignition, engine sputtering to life. “You think I drive around without Fleetwood Mac ready to go?”

Her laugh cracked the night open like a bottle. “Skywalker, you softie.”

The desert swallowed them as the music started, tires rolling into the dusk like they belonged to it.

📀 HELLLOOOOO, i am back! I am super excited to release the first pilot to my new series, which I am currently writing on.... c.ia. (no judgement pls.) but I loved the story so much, I had to share it. so this is the first glance to a summer love with flaws and cigarettes. have fun with it, and fell in love with y/n as I do, cause we love complex girls!

📀taglist: @blackynsupremacy @speaknow-sw @alelo23 @collywobblvs @newnewtheicon @angelsgalore @tvdelrey @girldisaster2007 @tinainaction @mariswxt @crazycaoticsimp @star-wars-stuff-1

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cherryyluvs · 4 months ago

Note

Hey, I really loved your mark bar fanfic I was wondering if you could write one where it takes place in the university but instead of a bar it’s a party and Mark can’t help it but get jealous and possessive of you. And if you don’t mind, can you probably make it smutty? I’m so down bad for that man. 😊🫣

Ask and you shall receive 😏🔥 Jealous Mark at a party? Oh, it’s about to get real messyyy ,

Never written smut before so this is my first time. Understandable if you dont like this. ill rewrite it😘😛

CONTENT WARNINGS + afab reader, smut, mature language, explicit adult content

Lewd Lovers’

The pounding music vibrating the walls and floor. People were everywhere, packed into every corner of the house. Laughing, talking, the scent of alcohol mixed with sweat.

And the faint smell of cigarette smoke in the air.

You’d excused yourself from william and amber.

“I shouldn't even be here” You think to yourself while stepping away for a second. Going down the dark hallway towards the quieter side of the house.

Just to breathe.

Just to think

And before you even realized Mark was already there.

“When did he get here?”

He grabbed your wrist as you passed by, you barely had time to turn around before he pulled you into the shadows. Down the hallway and into a dark corner beneath the staircase

“Mark–”

He was already pinning you against the wall, one hand to the side of your waist. His gaze was sharp and focused on you and only you.

You noticed him checking you out,

The way that deep V-neck provided a perfect view of your breasts, and that stupid mini skirt showing off your legs.

“What are you doing? You whispered in shock.

“Can’t stand seeing those pricks eye-fucking you out there” Mark snarled, his eyes staring into yours.

“Every dumbfuck in that room thinks they’ve got shot with you.”

You let out a shaky breath, heart beating fast. As Mark’s fingers dug into your hips.

“Mark you know–” you paused, feeling the hard bulge of his cock against his jeans, the heat of it seeping into your thighs.

Mark couldn't help it.. But the need to touch you, to fill you, to claim you as his.

“I cant fucking standing it anymore.” he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, slowly placing sloppy kisses on your neck.

His teeth then start nipping at your lower lip, his other hand gripping your jaw. Tilting your head back to deepen the kiss as his knee pressed more in between your legs.

You pull back from the kiss breathing heavily.

“Mark.. someone could see us”

But Mark didn't seem to care and focused on claiming your mouth and body.

Mark slid his hand under your skirt, his fingers touching your inner thigh. Slowly going up until he felt the damp fabric of your panties. Pushing them aside and going into your slick folds.

“You’re so wet for me already” he coos into your ear. His fingers rubbing along your slit before circling your sensitive clit. He pushed in two fingers knuckle deep into your pretty pussy.

Pumping them in and out at a slow and steady rhythm.

Teasing till you were trembling with the need of more. He could feel your slick walls fluttering around his fingers.

“Mark–!”

“That's it, baby. Let me hear how much you want it” His thumb pressing circles against your throbbing clit.

Mark captured your pink glossy lips, swallowing your moans and whimpers.

The risk of being caught only heightened his arousal, showing everyone who you belonged to.

Mark’s finger plunged deeper, stretching and hitting that magical spot inside of you, your walls clenching around his finger. Drawing him in further

“Fuck you’re dripping so much” he groaned against your lips.

“Such a little needy thing aren't you ?”

“Bet you've been thinking about my cock all day, imagining how good it would feel splitting you open.”

He pumped his fingers harder, faster , you threw your head back and saw stars from how good it felt. The wet sloppy sound of your pussy and lewd moans filled the air, his palm grinded against your clit with each thrust.

With a low groan , Mark removes his fingers from your wet swollen cunt. Ignoring your whine of protest he quickly undid his jeans.

“I'm gonna make you mine, right here where anyone could catch us.”

The sight of you - cheeks flushed , lips swollen from his kisses.. Makes him go feral.

Putting your legs around his hip. His cock sprang out of his boxer, bright pink tip with pre-cum leaking.

“Beg for it, baby. I wanna hear those pretty lips tell me how desperate you are for my cock”

“Mark, I–... I'm yours.” your breath hitches as you slowly feel him push his tip inside.

He began to push forward slowly, letting you adjust to his size as he sank deeper inch by inch.

“Ah! Fuck, Mark.” Whimpering as you clutched onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist tighter.

“Nngh~", so tight... Like this sweet little pussy was made just for my cock.” The feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him was indescribable. Growing tighter by the second as your climax approached.

The sound of your moans roused Mark, urging him to increase his pace. his hips slamming against yours, cock hitting deeper and deeper into you, The obscene slap of skin on skin, the way your pussy shaped his cock. Mingling with your moans and cries of ecstasy.

Mark could feel your walls start to quiver and spasm around his cock, And you could feel his cock pulsing and twitching as both you and his orgasm finally overtook, your cries muffled from under his hand.

Slowly, Mark pulled out of you, watching with a smug grin as a trickle of his cum followed, dribbling down your inner thigh. <333

#invincible #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #n/s/f/w #smut #jealousmark #FIRST TIME WRTITING SMUT #love this man #what a guy #invincible x reader #invincible season 3

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gothicfied · 7 months ago

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Nam-gyu / Player 124 Headcanons

Pairing: Nam-gyu / Player 124 x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, gunshots, drug use/heroin use (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

જ⁀➴ Walking down these strangely colorful stairs, with the equally strange backgroud music being the only thing that filled the silence between all the surviving players, made you feel like throwing up. You just witnessed people literally die right in front of you, shot for the smallest movement. If it wasn't for the adrenalin pumping throughout your body, you sure as hell wouldn't have survived either.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder, making you jolt. "Woah," Player 124, according to his jacket, stopped in his tracks when you did, too, holding up his hands in a defensive manner, "sorry. Didn't mean to startle you." While you just looked at him annoyed, a grin started to form on his lips: "What? Just wanted to know if you're okay. You scared or something?"

જ⁀➴ From then on Nam-gyu refused to leave you alone, constantly teasing you about your, very valid, fear and distress. No insults, no nothing made him stop - no - the purple haired junkie egged him on. After some time you just started to ignore him, or at least tried to. For whatever reason, Nam-gyu was very touchy with everybody, but especially you. He dragged, grabbed and shook you by your shoulders like a ragdoll when talking to you, sometimes weirdly rubbing over your back in an almost comforting way.

જ⁀➴ He'd purposefully walk past your bed to hush a quick "Good night." before lights out, often times observing you in the golden light of the piggy bank that was the only dim light source at night. Seeing you struggle to find some rest made him chuckle to himself, knowing that he had the same problem, too.

જ⁀➴ Before the first voting, he'd grab you by your arm, trying to charm you into voting in favor of the games. It was almost like he was able to sense that you wanted to quit, but it should've been blatantly obvious. Only someone with a death wish would want to continue this. Maybe he had one, after all. Once, you noticed from afar how he was nagging Thanos to give him one of those colored pills, drugs, pushing the sleeve of his right arm up to reveal the inside of his elbow. From your distance, you couldn't quite make out what he was showing him, but you assumed it were heroin marks. Well, now you kinda felt bad for him.

જ⁀➴ You weren't quite sure what to think of him. Nam-gyu would often bite around his fingernails, tug his sleeves over his hands, since this place was deathly cold sometimes, and stress over many things you also stressed about. Noticing you two weren't all that different after all, you warmed up to the idea of interacting with him.

જ⁀➴ Obviously, it couldn't all go the way you wanted it to. Not being affiliated with anyone around here proved itself to be a much greater problem during the mingle.

As soon as the spinning platform everyone tried to balance themselves on stopped along the music, the female announced the number: "Ten!". Immediately players started to scramble and hurry to find themselves a group, a group of men almost running you over. Fear, stress, anxiety, dread - You felt all of it at once. The clock was ticking down and all you could is stand there and look around you, already accepting your fate. But, apparently, the universe said no: A hand quickly grabbed you by your arm, forcefully pulling you with them. You were slammed against the wall of one of the small rooms as the door shut behind you, the timer reaching zero almost directly after. "What the fuck were you thinking? Seriously? Why did you just stand there?" it was Nam-gyu who was yelling at you, keeping you pinned against the wall by your shoulders. "Do you wanna get yourself killed?" You stared up at him, with a kind of offended expression, and he just stared back. In fact, all other eight players were staring at you two. Noticing the deafening silence, Nam-gyu turned his head around to Thanos, who just raised an eyebrow. "What? We need more people to vote 'O' anyway."

જ⁀➴ You felt like you owed him something now. Picking away at some of the kimbap you couldn't bring your to eat anymore, you scanned the dorm area for Nam-gyu. He was surprisingly alone for a moment, Thanos being off to bother someone else with whatever problem he came up with now.

Hesitantly, you took quick steps towards Nam-gyu's bed, coming to a halt right in front of it. He saved your life, the least you could do was give him some of your food that was being handed out to you players pretty sparsely. Feeling your presence behind him, he tucked a few strands of his hair behind his ears, not even needing to turn around to know it was you. "What is it?" Perhaps he was a bit embarrassed because of that moment after all. You sat down next to him on the, pretty uncomfortable mattress, handing him the rest of your food you wrapped back up in the aluminum foil. Just a quick moment of eye contact was enough for him to understand that you were really grateful for what he did back there.

જ⁀➴ If the guards wouldn't let you use the bathroom, claiming this late at night no one would be able to, Nam-gyu would be the one to come over to the door, hammering against the glass and demand that they let you in. "Come on, she's a woman," he'd exclaim, "have some decency." And when the door finally opened, you'd give him a smile. An actual, honest one.

જ⁀➴ It's as if Nam-gyu lived for that. Your smile, your small acts of gratefulness after he saved your life. You've grown on him - he'd even understand it if you'd continue to vote against resuming the games. Thinking about you being able to live your life to the fullest made him happy, even if he didn't understand that feeling quite yet.

#squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game fanfic #squid games x reader #squid game x reader #player 124 #player 124 x reader #nam gyu #nam gyu squid game #nam gyu x reader #squid game 2

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rbfclassy · 1 year ago

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GIRLS ON FILM! — CHOSO KAMO

photographer!choso who just graduated university, broke and has no money. He starts applying to any jobs that are hiring, in dire need for money. He hopes to put his photography skills to use as it was something he studied in school. After two weeks of waiting for any places to call him, he gets a gig at a small photography studio in Tokyo. He immediately takes the job, smile on his face as he walks in with his camera in hand. They didn’t even interview or ask to look at his portfolio, they instantly put him on set, directing him around and giving him orders. He thought nothing of it until he saw you walk out onto the set, covered in silk robe, makeup and hair done. You quite literally took his breath away when you undid the robe, letting it fall to the floor, revealing your nude body.

The place that had hired him was nude photography studio. He couldn’t think straight, eyes glued to you as they ordered you how to pose, putting you in lewd positions that only made choso imagine how’d you look with his cock stuffed in you. He blinks his thoughts away, blush spreading across his cheeks as he averts his gaze from you. He raises his camera, angling it just right as he captures you in your most divine. Half lidded eyes staring back at him as your hands cup your tits. He snaps several photos, gulping when you change positions and arch your back, ass high in the hair. He starts to feel hot, his dick straining against his jeans as he struggles to breathe correctly. God, you were beautiful.

The entire photo shoot he never took his eyes off of you, following your figure when you walked off set in your robe. He clenched his jaw, encapsulated by your essence. It almost felt like it was just you and him in the room every time he snapped a photo of you. “You have the photos?” One the of the editors asked, snapping him back to reality.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Choso fumbled with his camera, nearly dropping it as he pulled out the sd card. Just as the editor was about to walk away, Choso asked, “who is that?”

“You mean y/n?” The editor furrowed her brows. “She’s an upcoming model.” They turned back around, walking away with the sd card. Beautiful name for a beautiful girl. He looked down at his camera, licking his lips.

Choso went back home that night, his thought plagued with images of you. “Shit,” he groaned, noticing the hard on in his sweats. He palmed his cock, clenching his eyes shut to try and get rid of these disgusting fantasies he had, but it only made him see you again. Bending you over and plowing into you until you cry, or ruining your makeup as he fucks your face, taking a picture of you after for memories. Snapping a photo while you ride his cock, tits bouncing in his face. He wonders how you feel and taste. How could he crave something he’s never had?

Next thing he knows, his fist is pumping his cock, moans falling past his plump limps as his eyes flutter shut. He imagines your wet cunt squeezing around him, milking him for what he’s worth. “Y/n, y/n, y/n,” he babbles, biting down on his bottom lip as he tries to suppress his moans. His breath gets caught his throat as his abs tenses up, feeling how close he was to cumming. “Mmmm, fuck,” he moans. His wrist moves in circular motions, from the base to the tip as he squeezes a little harder. As he pictures his cum filling you up, dripping from your pussy, his entire body quivers as spurts of thick cum shoot from his head, landing on his hand and stomach. “Nnnngh—shit!” He can’t stop moving his hand, tossing his back onto the pillow in pure ecstasy. “Fuck me, baby, please!” Oh how he wishes you could hear how desperate he was for you.

#—☆classyrbf #anime #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo #choso kamo x y/n #choso smut drabble #choso smut #choso x reader smut #choso kamo x you #jjk choso #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #choso kamo smut #choso drabbles

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merakidoll · 2 years ago

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choking w / ghost !

his cock pumped into you deep and hard. moving your body with his as you both stared into the large mirror eyes connected because you could only imagine what would happen if you didn’t keep them open. your teeth dug into your arm not wanting to let out the loud drawn out sounds that your throat burned to possess. ghost finding it humorous how you didn’t want to prove his point. that you were nothing but his silly subby girl.

“daddies here” he encouraged, his hips thrusting against your ass causing recoil that somehow made him feel as if he was going deeper into the hot cunt that left cream patches around him. tears forming around your eyes because the bubbling in your stomach and tightening in your pussy, made you want to cry for your daddy, let out every moan that you were holding back from stubbornness. and it seemed as tho the universe was also against you.

ghost wrapping his hand around your delicate neck squeezing just a little - to prove his point. from then on, you could feel everything. his pierced nipples rubbing against your back, his cock hitting and poking at your g-spot, balls slapping against your ass - to the jerking of his dick inside of you. you could no longer hold it in. ghost stuffing your pretty pussy as you cried, begging him to allow you to cum - that you were in fact his silly subby girl and would do absolutely anything for him.

#ghost x black reader #ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon riley x black reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #call of duty smut #cod x black reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #— writings!

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aajjks · 1 year ago

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Baby O Baby (m)

synopsis. Is it really a little happy accident?

warnings. ëxplïcït sèx, ünprôtèctèd sèx, bábytráppïng, cúmmïng insïde, fèm!rèàder, rèplácïng bïrth côntrôl w/ô cônsènt, cóarcátïôn, 18+ smút, kïssïng, prôfánïty, ábôrtíön, mânïpülátïôn.

note. tc jk in a modern universe HAHAHA. shouto’s ver on my anime blog, check it out. please talk to this new jk and SHARE FEEDBACK.

smut below MDNI.

No no no no.

You hadn’t realised that a tear escaped your eye, your blurry gaze was focused on your shaky hand. The white blue stick in your hand trembled. “N-No..” you could barely whisper. Your legs felt wobbly all of a sudden, the two bright red straight lines was all you could focus on.

You were pregnant.

You couldn’t believe this, horror filled your eyes as you kept staring, the longer you stared, the more suffocated you were beginning to feel. The large grey bathroom felt like a small cave, your mouth trembled as you inhaled a shaky breath in, “fuck fuck fuck!!” You cried, finally letting it out, the bile that rose up to your throat almost made you want to throw up again.

How could you not have known?

A broken cry left your mouth as you fell down to your knees, it all came rushing back to you. You tried to be careful, you had warned Jungkook, your boyfriend.

P-Please Koo… n-not inside…” you moaned out his name as the man panted breathlessly in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, the seductive feeling of his lips made you tingle. his face was nuzzled in your neck as he only thrusted harder. You heard him grunt deeply, the feeling only made your eyes almost roll back to your head as you tried your best to hold back another moan that threatened to spill from your swollen lips.

Jungkook ignored you. He was so busy, buried deep inside you as he desperately tried to chase his high, his fingers gripped onto your naked shoulders as he mewled weakly in your neck.

“Fuck baby… you feel so fuckin good, could stay buried deep inside you forever.. fuck…” his voice was rough and deep, there was a hint of desperation in his tone, the way he hit all of your weak spots made you see black dots.

He felt so good.

“Love you so fucking much, baby.. love you too much…” he pressed a kiss on your neck as you felt him loosing himself inside you.

“F-Fuck Jungkook- n-not inside p-please-ah fuck..” a sharp thrust interrupted you as you felt his hip bucking up. “C-Can’t help it baby… you feel like heaven all clenched up around me… please ‘dont wanna pull out… please Y/N… let me have completely please..”

He rocked his hips into you, the force almost making you bounce up, he was strong, undeniably so, but the way he made those shameful lewd sounds made you think otherwise. He pulled your body closer, his hair was sweaty, he had been at it for hours, making you feel exhausted almost, after almost milking you out multiple times, you felt tired.

But he was making you feel so fucking good, it was almost impossible for you to stop him.

“M’gonna fill you full of me… “‘youre mine aren’t you?” His next thrust inside your core made your toes curl, a deep grunt erupted from his throat. Your core felt like it was actually on fire, the feeling of him inside you was almost addictive,

He fit so perfectly inside you.

He rocked his hips into yours and a broken moan left you at the lewd contact of his skin into yours. Your legs unknowingly wrapped around his waist, his hands only caged you into him, locking you into place. Not giving you a moment to resist him.

Your nails dig deeper into his buffed back, his teeth bit down into your shoulders. “F-Fuck that felt so good baby please don’t stop!” He begged.

A loud whine left his lips as he began to pump his hips into yours, his rhythm was fast and brutal, you whined, your consciousness immediately shut down as he sank himself deeper inside you, a pathetic whine escaped your lips as you felt something tightening up.

“fuck baby ‘m gonna go insane if i don’t cum, gonna fuck you full of me…” that was all you heard him say as he came inside you, and the next thing you knew,

You were full of him, as he swallowed your moans by kissing you passionately on the lips.

And you were too late to realise.

Until now.

A knock interrupted your flashback as you heard a familiar voice and your heart skipped a beat, “Y-Y/N can I come in? Are you okay? Why are you crying? Please tell me what’s wrong? Sweetheart?” It was Jungkook, “Y/N you’ve been in the bathroom for so long now, You feelin’ okay, baby?” He continued, his tone was so gentle that it should’ve relaxed you,

But except it didn't. “I told you that we should go see a doctor! Y/N you haven’t been feeling well for a month! Please let’s just go!” You heard him plea to you, he beat his fist against the door again.

Until you were forced to open the door and come out.

Your head hurt, stress was building up inside you, Jungkook’s heart dropped in his chest as he saw your face, filled with hot tears. “B-Baby?” He stuttered as he pulled you into a tight hug, “what’s wrong? Are you okay?” He kissed the crown of your head as he caressed your head, in an attempt to calm your shaking body down.

“K-Koo…” you cried on your boyfriend's warmth, his big muscles flexed as he tightened his hold on you.

You were both too young to have a baby… that was all you could think of. “Yes, baby tell me, what’s wrong?” He whispered carefully, as he pressed small pecks on your hair. His scent calms you down but only for a bit as reality hits you once again.

“Y/N baby?” Jungkook deep voice called out for you, you were only 23 and he was 26…

“Jungkook I’m p-pregnant!” You choked out, tears still fresh, falling from your red eyes. As you remove yourself from his grip, you fall down to your knees, your hands cover your face, you start sobbing again.

Would jungkook leave you now?

You were busy crying when you didn’t notice a big smile taking over his face, but only for a moment as he quickly concealed it and got on his knees, on your level. “W-What?” He stuttered.

He was playing dumb with you.

Were you really telling the truth? Had Jungkook really succeeded?

His hands fell on your back as he tried to pick you up. “Baby please answer me? Are you sure?” He looked at you, a hint of hope in his eyes.

You always adored children, you would love yours too, he was sure, almost as much as loved you.

“Yes jungkook! I-I took seven tests!” You sobbed. “We’re n-not ready! Please.”

Jungkook couldn’t slip up, it was hard for him to mask his happiness, but he managed to sound shocked and confused.

He almost tsked. He was more than ready. And he knew that deep down, you were too, you were just shocked, that’s it, right?

“Jungkook! H-How is this even possible?!? I was on birth control?! I didn’t t-think much about missing my period last month, a-and I thought that the morning sickness was because of the stress of my job…” you hiccuped, Jungkook’s heart broke seeing you like that.

But in reality, this was all his plan. He wanted to get you pregnant for as long as he could remember. The first time he ever saw you, he fell head over heels for you, fast and hard.

You were beautiful, ethereal and perfect, you were a goddess that anyone would kill to have.

And that’s exactly what he did. But still, that was not enough to secure you from slipping up from him.

He couldn’t bring himself to risk losing you.

So that’s why he replaced your birth control pills with fake ones. Of course you didn’t know that.

He just couldn’t believe that he was going to be a dad and you were going to be a mommy.

If Jungkook was being honest, he’d always wanted to make you a mommy.

Oh, you would be such a great mommy… jungkook had been fantasising about this moment for so long, your belly swollen ever so beautifully with his child in your pretty womb…

Jungkook exhaled a shaky breath out as the images flashed before his eyes.

His dream finally came true.

“I-I don’t know what I’m gonna do, koo! What are w-we gonna do! We’re too young for a baby right now!” You panicked.

“I-I’m probably gonna have an abo-NO!” Jungkook’s eyes snapped open at your words, his words boomed across the large walls of his room. “I-I mean, baby relax… please think with a cool mind..” he picked your body up. You stared at him with shocked eyes.

His body felt giddy, he was so happy.

“We’re gonna figure this out together okay? Together…” he kissed your head again, as he nuzzled his nose against yours. “Don’t you worry… we’re gonna be in this… together.” He cooed.

“Baby this is our happy little accident,” he cooed again. Kissing your lips chastely and not giving you a chance to argue.

Was it really though?

The answer was simple, No.

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bunnis-monsters · 11 months ago

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stupid wolf!hybrid bf who tries to heal your "wounds" by licking it when you're in your period.... yeah...

He had noticed you whining and holding your abdomen all day, along with the lingering scent of blood.

Your stupid, loving wolf hybrid bf didnt understand why the blood smelled different, or why his red cock slid out of his sheathe and bobbed pathetically when he inhaled the scent of it… he felt bad!

You were terribly injured and he was getting horny!!

So when you sat down, he let out a little whine, his tail wagging nervously as he nosed your clothed cunt.

“I can fix it…”

He gave you those big puppy eyes, tears welling up in the corners. Your pup couldn’t understand why you were so calm when obviously you were heavily injured!!

You, being tired and a bit confused, opened your legs. It didn’t take long for him to tear off your lounge shorts, and he began to whine nervously when he noticed a bit of blood leaking out of your panties.

“Crap, it’s leaking…”

You attempted to push his head away, about to go clean up your mess, but he pinned his ears back and growled lowly, causing you to go still.

“Y-You’re hurt! Stop it, don’t move! It’ll only make it worse!”

Tears fell down his cheeks as he stared at the bloody spot, his tail unable to stop wagging for some reason! You smelled so good, why the hell did your blood smell so good to him!? He felt like a bad, naughty predator, like a wolf getting hard while hunting an innocent little bunny.

“Gonna make it better…”

He peeled your panties off, tossing them to the side before giving your bloody cunt a sniff. God, his cock was aching at just the smell of your juices mixed in with the strange blood… he wanted to mount you so bad, to knit your pretty cunt and give you a litter, but he held back.

With a swipe of his tongue across your puffy pussy lips, his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. You tasted heavenly.

He buried his face in your cunt, nose against your clit as his tongue fucked in and out of your hole. Your pup was losing himself, trying so hard to make you better while his hand pumped his aching cock.

“B-baby, I’m not hurt!”

He didn’t pause, but his eyes moved to your face. You had to pull his head back, blood dripping down his chin as you explained.

“I’m on my period. It’s natural.”

After the short explanation, he felt silly, but recovered when you opened your legs for him again.

“But it helps me feel better when I orgasm.”

So he continued to eat you out, happy that he was able to help!

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog

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rosemariiaa · 7 months ago

Text

~Snowed In, Wished Out~

˖˙ ᰋ ── pairing: Paige x Azzi

˖˙ ᰋ ── rosie’s note: hii, “little” xmas fic this is actually long asf sorry i got carried away. i really liked writing this one, it’s a little different but soo cute tehee. happy reading lovelies 💌

˖˙ ᰋ ── themes: fluff, language, sexual innuendo, alternate universe

enjoy!!!

I slam the trunk of my Jeep shut, the bags packed and ready for our weekend getaway. I glance over, watching Azzi come down the stairs in her Christmas plaid pajamas, that damn unicorn neck pillow hanging from her neck, and her pink bookbag slung over one shoulder. Her curls are wild, messy, but somehow she still looks so damn beautiful it’s impossible not to stare.

I shake my head, trying to pull myself together before she catches me looking. “You were taking forever. Are we gonna go or what?” I call out to her, tossing the last bag in the trunk and slamming it shut.

Azzi smirks and shrugs as she walks toward the car, that pillow bouncing with each step. “You’re lucky I even let you drive me to the cabin,” she teases, dropping her bag into the backseat and sliding in.

I can’t help but laugh as I move to the driver’s side. “Yeah, sure. You’re just lucky I’m not making you carry all the bags after all the complaints you’ve been giving me.”

Azzi kicks her feet up onto the dash once she’s settled in, grinning. “Psh, you’re lucky I’m even going with you. It was your idea.”

I raise an eyebrow as I slide into the driver’s seat. “Mhm, sure. That’s what they all say.”

Azzi turns to me, a smirk pulling at her lips. “Oh, all your little girlfriends? You say that to them too?” she teases, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

I roll my eyes, trying to keep my composure. “Mcht, you’re impossible.”

She just laughs, leaning back in her seat, clearly enjoying getting under my skin.

The moment I start the car, there’s this weird, heavy silence between us. We’re both trying to act like everything’s normal, but I can feel the tension thickening the air, the kind we only ever get when it’s just the two of us. I glance over at Azzi, and she catches me, of course, with that teasing grin of hers. I roll my eyes, trying to keep my focus on the road, but my gaze keeps drifting back to her.

“You’re staring mighty hard, huh?” Azzi’s voice is light, but I can hear the mischief in it. She turns her head, her eyes glinting at me. “Can’t blame you though. I do look pretty cute today.”

I bite back a laugh, shaking my head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to get me to wreck this car.”

Azzi shrugs, leaning back in the seat and playing with the neck pillow like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

“Yeah, you wish,” I mutter, though the smile on my lips betrays me.

I keep my eyes on the road this time, but even with my focus there, I can feel her eyes still on me. I can feel the tension creeping up between us, that familiar pull. We’ve been dancing around it for so long, I swear sometimes I wonder if one of us will finally make a move. But not yet. Not today.

Two hours Later…..

I pull into the gas station, the engine cutting off as I park beside the pump. Azzi’s practically passed out in the passenger seat, head against the window, looking way too adorable for someone who’s been complaining for the last hour.

“Stay awake, ma,” I mumble under my breath, shaking my head as I get out of the car to pump the gas.

Azzi stirs, yawning, and stretches her arms above her head. “I am up and fine,” she mumbles, sounding like she’s anything but that. She pushes open the door, stepping out of the car, her plaid pajama bottoms dragging a little as she stretches.

“I’m gonna grab a snack, you want anything?” she asks, her voice still groggy.

I don’t even look up, focused on the gas meter. “Gum and blue Gatorade please,” I respond automatically, watching the numbers climb.

Azzi nods and starts walking toward the store but stops, turning back to me. “You got your wallet?”

I pause, staring at her, confused. “You’re seriously asking me that now?” I mumble, but she’s already waiting with her hand out. I roll my eyes, then pat the pocket of my sweatpants, pulling out my wallet. I toss it at her, trying not to smile at the way she looks at me with those big doey brown eyes.

“Thanks,” she says before heading toward the store, and I just stand there for a second, watching her walk off.

Once the gas is done, I lean against the car, checking my phone. A few minutes later, Azzi walks back out, arms full. One hand’s holding a bag of chips and candy, the other’s clutching my wallet. She walks up to me, handing it over without saying anything.

I look down at the wallet, then back at her. “How much was all that?”

Azzi shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “I don’t know, someone else paid.”

I blink, confused. “Someone else paid?”

“Yeah, some guy. He offered,” she says, popping a piece of gum into her mouth, like it’s nothing.

I’m still standing there, trying to make sense of it. “He just walked up and offered?” I repeat, jaw tightening.

Azzi looks back at me, completely casual. “Yep.” She shrugs again, grinning like she won something. “You don’t mind, right?”

I open my mouth to say something, but the words won’t come. I just stare at her, and she climbs back into the passenger seat, tossing another piece of gum at me before pulling out her phone.

I shake my head, climbing in after her, trying to ignore the slight irritation crawling up my neck.

We pull out of the gas station and back onto the road, Azzi sitting there with that smug, satisfied look like she didn’t just have some random ass dude paying for her snacks. She’s scrolling through her phone, one leg tucked up under her, completely unbothered.

I grip the wheel a little tighter, glancing her way. “You gon tell me what that guy said to you, or what?”

Azzi doesn’t even look up. “Not much. Just said I was cute and asked if he could pay for my stuff.”

My jaw tightens. “That’s all?”

“What else would he say, Paige?” she asks, finally glancing over with that sly smile that always makes me feel like I’m two steps behind her.

I scoff, keeping my tone light. “Dunno, ma. Maybe he asked for your number, too?”

Azzi laughs softly, her voice teasing. “You jealous or something?”

“Jealous?” I snort, shaking my head. “Nah. Just curious how you keep getting dudes to buy you snacks without trying.”

She tilts her head, studying me like she’s figuring out whether or not I’m being serious. “It’s called charm, Paige. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Charm, huh? That what you call it?”

“Yup.” She pops the “p” and goes back to her phone like we’re done here.

I shake my head, smirking despite myself. “You’re somethin’ else, Az.”

She hums, clearly pleased with herself, and we settle into a comfortable silence. The soft hum of the Christmas playlist she put on earlier fills the car, and the glow from her phone lights up her face. Every now and then, I catch her staring out the window, her expression soft and peaceful.

About twenty minutes later, Azzi perks up again. “Hey, can we stop for coffee?”

I glance at her. “Didn’t you just load up on snacks?”

“Yeah, but coffee is different,” she says, grinning at me like it’s obvious. “I’m trying to stay awake so you’re not suffering alone.”

I roll my eyes but take the next exit anyway.

We pull into a drive-thru, and Azzi’s already leaning forward, her eyes glued to the menu. Her curls are starting to fall out of that messy bun, framing her face in a way that’s making it harder to concentrate on driving. She’s chewing on her plump bottom lip, muttering something about whipped cream, and I don’t even care what she’s saying because, damn, her side profile is something else.

“Okay, they’ve got peppermint mochas,” she says, practically bouncing in her seat. “You’re getting one, too.”

I snort. “Black coffee’s all I need, ma.”

“Black coffee’s all you deserve,” she mutters, a smirk tugging at her lips.

I shoot her a look. “Watch it.”

She giggles, leaning further toward me, her elbow brushing mine. “You’re no fun, Paige. Live a little.”

By the time we get to the speaker, I’m more focused on her than the order. I clear my throat. “Yeah, lemme get a peppermint mocha, extra whip, and a black coffee.”

Azzi’s already rolling her eyes as she sits back. “You better not mess up my whip. That’s the best part.”

“Relax,” I mutter, pulling forward. “It’s not that serious.”

When we get to the window, a woman with a bright smile takes my card. “Hi there! How’s your night going?”

“Good,” I reply, handing her the card.

“Bet it just got better,” she says, flashing a grin that lingers a little too long.

I glance at Azzi just in time to see her jaw clench. She’s staring straight ahead, but the slight narrowing of her eyes gives her away.

The woman hands back my card, her fingers brushing mine. “Have a great night,” she says.

“Thanks,” I reply, barely holding back a smirk as I drive off.

Azzi doesn’t say anything, but the tension is thick. I glance over. “What’s wrong, ma? Thought you liked charm.”

Her head snaps toward me, her eyes narrowing. “It’s only charming when it’s not wasted on drive-thru ladies.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Jealous?”

“Of her? Please,” she scoffs, but the way she crosses her arms and stares out the window tells me otherwise.

About an hour later, the city fades into snow-covered trees, and the roads get narrower. Azzi’s chatting now, telling me some story about Caroline and Yanna making fun of her unicorn halloween costume, and I can’t help but glance at her every now and then, the way her hands move when she talks, the way her laugh fills the car.

By the time we pull up to the cabin, it’s almost dark, and the windows are glowing with warm light. Snow blankets the ground, and the pine trees around us look like something out of a postcard.

Azzi unbuckles her seatbelt, pressing her nose to the window. “It’s so pretty,” she says softly.

“Yeah,” I agree, though I’m not looking at the cabin.

She catches me staring and smirks. “You’re gonna help me with my bags, right? Or is all that charm you’re always talking about just for show?”

I shake my head, laughing under my breath. “Get out the car, before I leave you here.”

Azzi’s laugh echoes as she hops out, and I follow, the cold air biting at my skin. This is gonna be an interesting weekend.

I park the Jeep in front of the cabin, snow crunching under the tires as the headlights illuminate the cozy log structure. The warm glow of lights from inside makes it look like a postcard come to life.

As soon as the engine cuts off, Azzi practically leaps out of the car. She runs ahead, sticking her tongue out to catch snowflakes, her curls bouncing as she spins in the cold air. She looks like a little kid, so carefree, and I can’t help but smile as I watch her.

“Azzi, grab a bag while you’re at it!” I call, shaking my head as I get out and head to the trunk.

“Nope! That’s your job,” she shouts back, laughing. Her voice carries over the crunch of snow beneath my boots.

I pop the trunk, pulling out her pink bookbag and one of the larger duffels. Glancing up, I see Azzi wandering toward the treeline, her hands shoved into her pockets, face tilted up to the sky.

I pause, leaning against the open trunk. The thought creeps in before I can stop it: Let this be the perfect Christmas. Let this be the year she’s mine. The perfect gift. Azzi, just… Azzi.

She turns back toward me, her cheeks flushed from the cold, her smile wide and unbothered. “You’re taking forever, Paige!”

I roll my eyes, grabbing the rest of the bags. “I’m carrying all your stuff, remember?”

Once I catch up to her, she’s already on the porch, brushing snow off her shoulders. The front door creaks open as we step inside, warmth enveloping us instantly. The cabin is quieter than I expected. No creaky floorboards, no howling wind, just a deep, peaceful silence broken only by the occasional crackle of the fireplace. It’s barely 7 p.m., but the exhaustion from the drive and the cold has settled into both of us.

Azzi stretches her arms above her head, her shirt riding up slightly. “So… nap first, hot tub later?” she suggests, glancing at me with a lazy smile.

I nod, suppressing a yawn. “Sounds like a plan.”

We grab our bags and head into the bedroom. There’s just one bed, but it’s not a surprise—this isn’t our first time sharing one. Still, it feels different now, and I can’t quite put my finger on why.

I pull out a white tank top and a pair of shorts, while Azzi digs around for her pink boxers and a Georgetown T-shirt. She holds it up, grinning. “You’re not gonna clown me for this, are you?”

“Not tonight, I’ll wait,” I say with a smirk, pulling on my tank top.

She rolls her eyes, tossing her clothes onto the bed. “You’re so generous.”

Once we’re changed, Azzi flops onto the bed first, wrapping herself in the soft blanket. I turn off the lights, leaving the warm glow of the fireplace to light the room.

Sliding in beside her, I make sure to keep some space between us. The bed isn’t small, but the air feels heavy, charged with something unspoken.

Azzi shifts, turning to face me. “Hey, Paige?”

“Yeah?”

She hesitates, biting her bottom lip. “Can we cuddle? I’m cold.”

Her voice is soft, almost shy, and it takes me a second to answer. I don’t say anything, though—words feel unnecessary. Instead, I scoot closer, sliding my arm around her waist and pulling her against me. She fits so perfectly, it’s almost too much to handle.

Azzi sighs contentedly, snuggling deeper into my hold. Her back is pressed against my chest, and her curls tickle my nose. The scent of her shampoo—something floral and sweet—fills my senses.

I stare at the ceiling, my arm draped over her. The warmth of her body against mine is distracting, her steady breathing calming yet unsettling all at once. My mind drifts back to the wish I made earlier, standing in the cold by the car.

Let this be the perfect Christmas. Let her be mine.

The thought loops in my head, over and over, until it’s all I can think about. I don’t know if wishes come true, but in this moment, with Azzi in my arms, I can’t help but hope.

Her breathing slows, and I realize she’s already fallen asleep. I press my cheek against her curls, closing my eyes.

The last thought that drifts through my mind before sleep takes me is simple but powerful. Please let this be the start of something real.

Next Morning: Alternate Universe

The morning light filters through the cabin’s curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the room. Paige stirs, still half-asleep, her arm instinctively reaching out for warmth—only to find the space beside her empty.

She opens her eyes groggily, blinking a few times to adjust to the light. That’s when she notices Azzi sitting cross-legged on the bed, already dressed in her pink boxers and Georgetown T-shirt. Her hair is a wild mess of curls, and there’s an easy smile playing on her lips.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Azzi says softly, her voice warm and teasing.

Before Paige can fully process what’s happening, Azzi leans down and presses a kiss to her lips. It’s gentle but lingering, her hand brushing against Paige’s cheek as she pulls away.

Paige freezes, her eyes wide as saucers. “Uh—what was that for?”

Azzi’s brows furrow, and she lets out a laugh, sitting back on her heels. “What do you mean? I can’t kiss my girlfriend anymore?”

Paige’s heart stops. “Girlfriend?” she repeats, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi’s head tilts, her expression shifting from amused to slightly concerned. “Yeah? Girlfriend. You okay?” She leans forward, placing the back of her hand against Paige’s forehead like she’s checking for a fever. “Maybe you need to go back to bed. You’re sounding kinda crazy right now.”

Paige just stares at her, stunned into silence. Girlfriend?

Azzi shakes her head with a soft laugh and leans down to give her another quick peck, the scent of her shampoo and the warmth of her lips grounding Paige in a way that makes her head spin. “C’mon, get up. I’m starving, and you’re in charge of the eggs.”

She hops off the bed, her curls bouncing as she makes her way to the door. “Don’t make me come back in here and drag you out,” she warns with a grin before disappearing into the hallway.

Paige is left alone in the bed, her heart racing and her mind scrambling to catch up. She sits up slowly, glancing around the room like she’s expecting someone to jump out and yell, “Gotcha!” But the cabin is quiet, save for the faint sound of Azzi humming in the kitchen.

That’s when it hits her.

The wish.

Her wish.

Her breath catches in her throat as she remembers standing by the car, the cold air biting at her skin, and wishing with every fiber of her being that Azzi would be hers. And now… she is.

Paige runs a hand through her hair, her mind spinning. This can’t be real. Can it?

Paige sits on the edge of the bed, her hands gripping the sheets as her thoughts spiral. How is this happening? She glances around the room, her eyes catching the soft glow of the string lights Azzi insisted they bring, the small pile of their overnight bags near the door. Everything feels normal. Familiar. Except it’s not.

Her heart pounds in her chest as she replays the last few moments in her head. Girlfriend? The word echoes like a bell, loud and disorienting. She presses her fingers to her lips, where Azzi’s kiss still lingers.

She shakes her head, trying to make sense of the impossible. Last night, she’d been lying in this exact spot, holding Azzi close, thinking about the wish she made. A wish so desperate and earnest she could almost feel it in her bones. And now, it’s like the universe heard her plea and rewrote reality itself.

It feels weird—so weird it sends a chill up her spine. Like the world has tilted on its axis, and she’s suddenly stepped into an alternate universe. One where Azzi wakes her up with kisses and casually calls her girlfriend.

Not that she’s complaining. God, no. If anything, it’s exactly what she’s always wanted. Azzi is everything Paige has ever dreamed of, and now she’s hers? But it doesn’t make sense. There was no confession, no awkward “what are we?” conversation. No slow build-up. Just this—them—like it’s always been this way.

Her fingers drum nervously against her thigh as she takes a deep breath, trying to ground herself. But no matter how much she tries to rationalize it, her heart whispers the same thing over and over: The wish came true.

The thought sends a fresh wave of disbelief crashing over her. How could something so impossible just… happen? She glances at the door Azzi walked through moments ago, her voice still faintly humming from the kitchen.

Paige swallows hard. This isn’t just a dream. It feels too real for that. Too vivid. And yet, the strangeness of it all lingers, like an itch she can’t quite reach.

Am I in another universe? she wonders, her pulse quickening at the thought. It’s a crazy idea, but so is Azzi being her girlfriend out of nowhere. And what if this universe is temporary? What if it fades, or she wakes up, or worse, Azzi realizes something’s off?

Her stomach twists at the possibility. But then she remembers the way Azzi kissed her, like it was second nature. The way she smiled and teased her, like nothing in the world could be more normal.

A small, nervous smile tugs at Paige’s lips despite the chaos in her mind. Okay, fine. Maybe I’m in another universe. But if this is what it’s like? I’m not complaining.

She stands up, shaking off her unease, and heads toward the kitchen. Whatever this is, she’s not wasting it.

Paige stands at the edge of the kitchen, her breath catching at the sight of Azzi. The younger girl was at the stove, humming softly, her pink robe tied loosely around her frame as she flipped pancakes with a casual grace that made Paige’s chest tighten.

This was everything she’d ever wanted. Azzi. Here. With me.

She shook herself out of her thoughts and stepped forward, slipping her arms around Azzi’s waist from behind. Azzi froze for a moment before relaxing into the touch, tilting her head back slightly as Paige leaned down to kiss her hungrily.

Azzi chuckled softly against her lips, turning her head just enough to meet Paige’s kiss fully. Her hands moved to cup Paige’s face, holding her there for a moment before pulling back with a breathless laugh. “What’s gotten into you?”

Paige smirked, her eyes trailing over Azzi’s flushed cheeks. “Just taking advantage of my girlfriend privileges,” she teased, brushing her lips against Azzi’s jaw.

Azzi arched a brow, her laugh warm and melodic. “Oh, so you’re okay now? I was starting to think I needed to call a doctor earlier.”

“I’m fine,” Paige murmured, pressing a quick kiss to Azzi’s cheek before stepping back. “Better than fine, actually.”

Azzi gave her a knowing look but didn’t press further. Instead, she handed Paige the bowl of scrambled eggs she’d been working on. “Good. Then you can start on the eggs while I finish these pancakes.”

Paige took the bowl, grinning. “Yes, ma’am.”

The two of them moved around the kitchen in sync, a rhythm Paige hadn’t realized she’d been craving. It felt so natural, so easy. She set the table while Azzi finished plating the food, her heart hammering in her chest the entire time.

When they finally sat down, Paige tried to focus on her plate, but it was impossible. Azzi was sitting beside her, her curls falling loosely around her face, her smile soft as she buttered a piece of toast. She looked so effortlessly beautiful, so… hers.

Paige’s fork hovered over her plate, forgotten. Her eyes traced every detail of Azzi’s profile, from the curve of her nose to the way her lips pressed together in concentration as she carefully poured syrup over her pancakes.

“Are you gonna eat, or are you just gonna keep staring at me?” Azzi asked suddenly, not looking up from her plate.

Paige blinked, startled. “Huh?”

Azzi turned to her, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “You’ve been staring at me this whole time. Not that I mind, but your food’s getting cold.”

Paige’s cheeks burned. “I wasn’t staring,” she muttered, stabbing at her eggs.

Azzi laughed softly, reaching over to nudge Paige’s shoulder. “Sure you weren’t.”

Paige glanced at her, her heart pounding. For a moment, she thought about saying something—about telling Azzi how surreal this all felt, how she’d spent years dreaming of moments like this. But she kept the words buried deep. If she said them out loud, everything could shatter.

What if Azzi didn’t believe her? Or worse, what if she did—and looked at Paige like she was some kind of madwoman? What if it ruined everything they had in this universe, this perfect little bubble where Azzi was hers?

Paige couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk losing Azzi, not when she finally had her.

Paige swallowed her thoughts, focusing on the fork in her hand instead of the beautiful girl sitting beside her. She’d made it this far without messing things up, and she wasn’t about to start now. They finished eating in comfortable silence, Azzi stealing bites from Paige’s plate as she cleaned up.

When Azzi pushed her chair back and stretched, her shirt riding up just slightly, Paige quickly looked away. But Azzi caught her, grinning mischievously. “Hot tub time?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “We just ate, ma. Shouldn’t we wait?”

Azzi pouted, her lips forming that little curve that always made Paige weak. “It’s fineee,” she pleaded, clasping her hands in front of her like she was begging. “Pretty please?”

Paige opened her mouth to argue, but Azzi wasn’t done yet. She leaned closer, her big brown eyes locking onto Paige’s with that soft, pleading look. “Pretty, pretty please?” Her voice was sweet, almost teasing, but the proximity made Paige’s face heat up.

“Y-you can’t just—” Paige stammered, her words cutting off when Azzi smiled and tilted her head. Paige sighed, already feeling her resolve slipping away. She gave a small nod. “Fine, fine. Hot tub it is.”

Azzi clapped, grinning as she grabbed Paige’s arm and pulled her toward the bedroom.

Inside, Paige went straight to her dresser, slipping into a blue bikini top and matching swim trunks. She turned around just in time to see Azzi standing in front of the open closet, looking adorably conflicted.

“I don’t know which one to wear,” Azzi said, holding up two bikinis. One was black, simple and sleek. The other was purple with tiny gold accents. She looked over her shoulder at Paige. “What do you think?”

Paige didn’t hesitate. “The purple one. Definitely.”

Azzi raised a brow. “You sure?”

Mhm.” Paige shrugged, smirking. “It’s my favorite on you.”

Azzi laughed softly, shaking her head as she turned away to change. “You’re so biased.”

“Maybe,” Paige teased, sitting on the edge of the bed. She tried to keep her eyes on anything but Azzi, but when the younger girl slipped into the purple bikini and turned around, Paige’s jaw almost dropped.

“Okay, what do you think?” Azzi asked, doing a playful twirl.

Paige leaned back, letting out a low whistle. “Gorgeous,” she said, her voice thick with sincerity.

Azzi blushed, waving her hand dismissively. “Stop it.”

“I mean it,” Paige pressed, her gaze lingering a second too long on Azzi’s toned stomach, the way the bikini hugged her curves just right, and how the purple made her skin glow.

Azzi smirked, noticing the way Paige’s eyes roamed. “Ready to go, or are you just gonna keep staring?”

Paige rolled her eyes, standing quickly to mask her embarrassment. “Let’s go, ma.”

They made their way outside to the hot tub, the cold air biting at their skin as steam rose from the water. Azzi slipped in first with a content sigh, sinking into the warmth. Paige followed, sitting across from her, the heat instantly soothing her muscles.

For a while, it was quiet. Peaceful. Paige leaned her head back, taking in the snow-covered trees around them and the faint hum of the jets. But then her gaze shifted back to Azzi.

Azzi had her eyes closed, her head tilted back as she let out a soft sigh of contentment. Her dark hair was damp, some strands sticking to her collarbone. Paige’s eyes roamed over her face, the curve of her jaw, her neck, and—she bit her lip, dragging her eyes away before they lingered too long.

It was like Azzi could feel Paige’s gaze because she opened her eyes and smirked. “What?”

Paige blinked, shaking her head quickly. “Nothing. You just look good,” she said, her voice quieter than usual.

Azzi’s smirk grew. “Oh?”

Paige nodded, swallowing hard. “Mhm.”

Azzi leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. “Well, are you just gonna sit there, or are you gonna do something about it?”

Paige’s lips twitched into a smile before she laughed, the tension between them thick but playful. Without another word, she shifted through the water toward Azzi, her hands finding the brunette’s thighs and pulling her closer in one smooth motion.

Azzi gasped softly, her legs instinctively wrapping around Paige’s waist. Her arms looped around Paige’s shoulders, her fingers tangling in her wet hair. “Hm you’re very bold today,” she teased, her voice breathless.

“Just taking advantage of what’s mine,” Paige murmured, her voice low, her lips brushing against Azzi’s.

Azzi’s teasing smirk melted as Paige kissed her, slow and deliberate. Azzi cupped Paige’s face, deepening the kiss, her lips soft and warm against Paige’s own.

Paige’s hands slid to Azzi’s ass, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. The kiss grew hungrier, Paige’s tongue slipping past Azzi’s lips, earning a soft whimper from the brunette.

When Paige moved her lips to Azzi’s jawline, then down to her neck, Azzi’s breathing grew heavier, her hands tightening on Paige’s shoulders. “Paige,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

Hearing Azzi say her name like that sent a spark through Paige, her lips lingering on Azzi’s neck for a moment longer before pulling back slightly, her forehead resting against Azzi’s.

“You’re unreal,” Paige murmured, her voice barely audible over the bubbling water.

Azzi shivered, her grip on Paige tightening. Paige’s lips found a sensitive spot on her neck, and she pressed a lingering kiss there before teasing it with her teeth. Azzi’s soft moan filled the air, her body arching into Paige’s.

The heat between them was overwhelming, hotter than the water around them, consuming them both. Paige could feel Azzi’s heartbeat against her, rapid and unsteady, mirroring her own. It wasn’t just the physical closeness—it was the way Azzi melted against her, the way her name sounded when Azzi said it like that.

Azzi pulled back just slightly, her lips brushing against Paige’s ear as she whispered, “You’re not playing fair.”

Paige chuckled lowly, her hands still holding Azzi steady. “Who said I was playing?”

—————

“Well,” Paige murmured to herself, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she stared at the ceiling. “You know what happened after that.”

Her cheeks flushed at the memory of the hot tub—Azzi’s touch, her soft beautiful sounds, the way she clung to Paige like she never wanted to let go. Paige didn’t think she’d ever felt so… whole.

Now, hours later, they were getting ready for bed. The day had been perfect: warm cuddles, soft kisses, laughter as they roasted marshmallows, and shared stories. Azzi had taken dozens of Polaroids, her eyes bright with mischief as she captured silly faces and the occasional kiss. Paige had watched her with a soft smile, cherishing every second.

Paige picked up a Polaroid from the nightstand, tracing its edges with her thumb. Azzi was smiling in it, holding up a s’more like a trophy. Paige’s gaze in the photo wasn’t on the camera but on Azzi.

“I love her,” she whispered, the words soft but heavy. “God, I love her.”

Yet beneath her happiness, doubt lingered. This life, as perfect as it seemed, didn’t feel entirely real.

The sound of the shower running brought her back to the moment. Paige closed her eyes, trying to shake the uneasy thought. Then, she heard it—a voice.

Her eyes snapped open, heart racing. “Hello?” she called out, her voice shaky. No reply. But then it came again, soft and insistent.

“Go to the balcony.”

Paige hesitated but stood, her steps cautious as she slid the door open and stepped into the cold. “Hello?” she called again. “Is anyone there?”

“Hello, Paige,” the voice said, clear and calm.

Paige frowned. “Hi? Who’s there?”

The voice didn’t answer her question. Instead, it asked, “Are you happy here, Paige? Happy that your wish came true?”

A smile tugged at her lips despite the unease. “Yes. Very happy. Thank you. But… can you come out now? You’re kinda freaking me out.”

The voice chuckled softly. “This wish can last as long as you want. Your life here, with Azzi as yours—your girlfriend. But remember, this is not truly real. It’s just a wish.”

Paige’s smile faltered. “What do you mean?”

“You have a choice,” the voice continued. “You can wake up tomorrow in the real world, with Azzi as your best friend. Or you can wake up here, with Azzi as yours.”

Paige’s chest tightened. “Whatever I think tonight… will happen?”

“Yes.”

The voice fell silent, leaving Paige alone with her thoughts. She swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. “Thank you,” she finally whispered, though she wasn’t sure it was heard.

“Paige?” Azzi’s voice called from inside, breaking the silence. “What are you doing out there? It’s freezing!”

Paige turned to see Azzi standing in the doorway, her damp hair curling against her shoulders, wrapped in her pink robe.

“Just… enjoying the view,” Paige said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

Azzi tilted her head but let it go. “Come to bed. It’s warm.”

Paige nodded, slipping back inside. As she slid under the covers, Azzi curled into her, her warmth grounding Paige even as her mind raced. The voice’s words echoed in her head, leaving her torn between two impossible choices.

—————

Paige stirred awake, soft Christmas morning light filtering through the curtains. Azzi was still curled against her, dark curls splayed across the pillow, her hand resting lightly on Paige’s arm. For a moment, Paige just lay there, her heart swelling. She’d made her choice last night, and she didn’t regret it.

Glancing at the clock—10 a.m.—she slipped out of bed carefully, trying not to wake Azzi. She tiptoed downstairs to the closet by the front door, pulling out the gifts she’d hidden for Azzi over the past few weeks. Stacking them neatly under the tree, she spotted the boxes labeled “For Paige, from Princess.” Shaking her head with a smile, she added those too, knowing Azzi had probably forgotten.

Satisfied, she admired the setup for a moment, the glow of Christmas lights reflecting off shiny wrapping paper. The joy of the moment filled her, but she knew she had something important to do today.

Upstairs, Azzi was awake, scrolling through Paige’s iPad. Sitting in bed in her oversized Georgetown sweatshirt, her dimples deepened as she focused. Paige leaned against the doorframe, smiling at the sight.

“Good morning,” Paige said, moving to sit beside her.

Azzi looked up, her smile warm. “Good morning.”

Paige smirked. “Just need to make sure I’m in the right world this time.”

Azzi blinked, confused. Before she could ask what Paige meant, the blonde leaned over and licked her cheek.

“Paige!” Azzi yelped, swatting her arm. “What is wrong with you?”

Grinning, Paige muttered, “Yep. Right world.” Then, louder, “Maybe I am crazy, but you like it.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, laughing. “Merry Christmas, Paigey.”

“Merry Christmas, princess,” Paige said, grabbing Azzi’s hand and pulling her out of bed. “Come on. Time to open gifts.”

Azzi’s eyes lit up as she spotted the stack under the tree. “You set these all up?”

“Of course,” Paige replied, pulling her to the couch before Azzi could rush to grab anything. “But wait—I have something to say first.”

Azzi tilted her head, curiosity flashing in her eyes. “Okay…”

Paige exhaled, her heart pounding. “I love you, Azzi. Not just as my best friend but… more. So much more.”

Azzi’s eyes widened slightly, her smile softening.

“I’ve felt this way for years—since you came to UConn, maybe even before. But I was scared to say anything, afraid of ruining what we had. Last night, I made a wish, Azzi. I wished for a chance with you, and… here we are.”

Azzi stayed quiet, her gaze steady as Paige spoke.

“I prayed for this to come true because I couldn’t hold it in anymore. You genuinely mean everything to me, and I—”

Before Paige could finish, Azzi cupped her face, pulling her into a kiss. Paige’s eyes widened but quickly closed as she melted into it, her hands finding Azzi’s waist.

When Azzi pulled away, she rested her forehead against Paige’s. “I love you too, P. More than you could imagine.”

Paige blinked, her heart racing. “Wait… you do?”

Azzi laughed softly. “I’ve felt the same way for years. I was going to tell you on this trip, but you beat me to it.”

Paige chuckled, her forehead still against Azzi’s. “You were tired of waiting, huh?”

Azzi grinned. “So tired. But I’m glad it’s out now.”

“Well then,” Paige said, sitting back slightly, taking Azzi’s hands. “Azzi Fudd, will you pretty please be my girlfriend?”

Azzi rolled her eyes but laughed. “Of course, Paigey.”

They kissed again, slower this time, full of promise. When they pulled apart, Paige reached behind the couch, pulling out a velvet box.

“And now,” she said, opening it to reveal a delicate silver heart necklace, “your first official girlfriend gift.”

Azzi gasped, touching the pendant as Paige fastened it around her neck. “Paige… it’s beautiful.”

“Glad you like it,” Paige said, smiling. “If not, I’d have to return it and die of embarrassment.”

Azzi shoved her lightly, laughing. “Shut up. I love it. And I love you.”

She kissed Paige again, whispering, “I love you” between kisses.

Paige laughed softly. “You’re a good kisser.”

Azzi roles her eyes and grinned, her dimples on full display. “I know. Now can I open my other gifts?”

Paige gestured to the tree. “Go for it, princess.”

Azzi scrambled to the pile, tearing into wrapping paper with contagious excitement. Paige watched her, her heart full.

This wasn’t just a wish anymore. It was their reality. And Paige couldn’t wait to keep building it with Azzi by her side.

paigebueckers

liked by kamoreaarnold and others

paigebueckers Merry Christmas everyone. From MY MY MY princess and I.

kamoreaarnold

mom and dad WOAH

caroline.ducharme

finally

nika.muhl

we all knew already 🥱

—————

˖˙ ᰋ ── taglist:

@thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @juspeaks @sierrale8ne @pattyshome @pattyshome @authentic-girl03 @pazzilover101 @imaginespazzi @makethemhoesmad @kmoneymartini @melpthatsme @d3arapril @lupinqs @ashortyluvsports @absolutelydreadful

#pazzi #rosie’s works 🎧⋆｡ °⋆#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn wbb #gays #pazzi fics

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etoilecyber · 18 days ago

Text

A Lustful Twist of Fate

“You just couldn’t let me go could you.”

No matter how sneaky Vance always thought he was, Kyle had been one step ahead.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t anticipated his former Best Friend to follow him after he left the city. After all, Vance Dane had always seemed to do everything in his power to undermine and take the things he loved. He didn’t understand why.

Kyle Marks had befriended him when he was all alone in High School and they never left each others side since then. He shared his hopes and dreams with him, went to the same university to study Media with him. Even got a job at the same advertising agency together. He didnt realize it at first but he noticed that Vance would alienate him from others and started outperforming him when Kyle was starting to get distracted from the anxiety. Vance denied doing so and insisted he was his friend. And yet, the isolation continued.

It got so bad that he couldn’t take it anymore. Instead of picking a fight, he sent in his two weeks notice and moved to another state. He hated that his dream career had gone down the drain. But he had to take it in stride. Be the bigger man. Start over and try his luck with a new career path.

Even if Vance could do this to him, he couldn’t. He was his best friend. And the first man he ever had feelings for. But these days, knowing how far Vance would have gone to destroy him, those feelings had vanished, replaced with anxiety that he would come back.

So imagine his (not) surprise when he saw Vance sneaking into his data lab where he was conducting mind to data physical conversion research.

Vance was the strong one, but Kyle was always faster. A single syringe of tranquilizer to his neck was all Kyle needed.

Vance had slumped to the floor, barely awake from the effects of the drug.

Kyle kneeled down and faced his former friend, ruffling his hair.

“You’re always taking things from me. My dreams. My ambitions. Even the people around me. I let it go because you were my friend but still you persist. I dont know what kind of sick game you’re playing but I’ve had enough.”

Vance grunted as Kyle dragged him by the hair to one of the chairs in the lab. He all but slammed the near unconscious man down and slowly stripped him down to his underwear.

“I’ve taken the high road long enough. I moved away and started over and everything.”

The anger pulsated into Kyles limbs as he attached nodes to Vance’s temples and chest, its wires connecting to a nearby computer.

“All I ever wanted was for you to like me but you still insist on taking from me.”

He felt a tear drop from his eye as he started typing away the commands to start his program. The button on the remote on the table lit up, ready for use.

Kyle stripped to his underwear and grabbed the remote. He approached Vance, who was now fully unconscious.

“Maybe I should take something from you instead.”

Kyle walked over to the chair opposite of Vance and plugged nodes to his own temples and chest.

He stared for a moment, suddenly aware that he’s about to perform a human trial on untested experiment. He was normally rational enough to not let himself perform what could possibly be a crime against humanity. Or worse, death.

But his emotions were getting the better of him.

He deserves it. I’ll make him pay.

Even if it kills me.

And besides… Science requires risk.

There was no going back now.

He stared at his would be body soon. From a distance, Vance looked like he was smiling. Perhaps a reflex of the muscle. No more doubting. This was going to work.

With a heavy breath, Kyle pushed the button.

He felt his body convulse, like electricty was pumping into his heart. His body was sweating and his brain felt like it was getting sucked by a straw. Across, Vance’s body had started convulsing as well, his body arching slightly upward in shock.

For a moment, Kyle felt like this was the end. Maybe he shouldn’t have let his anger win.

And suddenly it went black.

Kyle woke with a start. A ragged breath escaping his mouth. He felt extra groggy.

“Wha-“ he covered his mouth, his voice deeper than usual. He looked down and saw hands that were familiar but not his. And he looked across to find… his body slumped over.

“It worked… It actually worked!” The anger all but disappeared. He had finally succeded.

“I wasn’t hoping to do human trials until later, but this proves it. The mind can be turned into data and moved.”

He ripped the nodes from his new body and walked over to his unconscious old body.

“Maybe now… I can go back to my old life. Maybe it wont be a pipe dream anymore without him getting in the way.” He caressed his old face and slowly lifted his head up by the chin. “Everyone will just think he’s crazy if he starts saying he swapped bodies with me.”

Kyle walked off to grab a towel and look at a mirror. This was a face he was so used to seeing but being inside was a whole new level of ecstacy he was never used to.

“It’s so weird… being in this body. But its…” he wiped his face with the towel and took a sniff.

“…so emasculating. Fuck… Vance is really hot.”

Kyle looked down, his new member straining hard against his shorts. An image he had wanted to see his whole life. And pulling it out confirmed what he had only ever imagined.

“Shit. Mine isn’t bad but this is a whole new level of huge.”

He grabbed hold of his new shaft, the sensitivty eliciting a moan from his mouth. He didnt even process any thought and just started pumping.

“Fuck… FUCK!”

It was like a geyser of white just erupting out of him. The intensity was way beyond anything he’s ever experienced.

He scooped up some from the mirror and gave it a taste.

“Salty…”

He heard his old body stir from behind and he felt an evil grin creep up his face. He walked over as he watched his old body wake up.

“Hey. How’s it feel, Kyle. To have all of this ripped away from you.”

Kyle flexed, feeling the mighty hard muscles from his stolen body. And it felt good.

Vance, in Kyle’s body blinked a couple of times before sitting up. His face remained blank, as if he was still processing.

“Too stunned to speak? Missing all of this? Have a taste of the old you.”

He swiped his cum stained hand over to his old body’s mouth.

“And nice package by the way. Thanks for that. Mine aint bad but sheesh. You sure won the genetic lottery.”

He wanted to be satisfied, but the lack of a violent reaction was souring his victory.

“Well, say something.” Kyle finally said.

Vance stood up and walked over to the mirror. Quiet at first, as if to take in what he now had. Kyle expected trembling, shouting, begging. Anything!

But the words that came out of Vance completely shattered him.

“This was everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Vance raised his new arms, taking in Kyle’s body as if it were a prize.

“W-What…?”

The smile on Vance’s face was anything but the anguish Kyle wanted to see.

“You have no idea how much I’ve dreamed of this… To be in your flesh.”

Kyle’s breathing intensified, everything clearly not going as planned.

“What are you saying? What the fuck is going on?! This is supposed to be my revenge!”

Vance turned around, walking towards him in such a sultry way that seemed ultra foreign from Kyle’s body.

“Revenge? Why would I want revenge? I’ve never hated you nor have I ever wanted to destroy you. Quite the opposite actually.”

Vance hugged himself, feeling his body from every inch of what he could touch.

“Vance..!” It was Kyle’s turn to be speechless.

“You said all you’ve ever wanted was for me to like you. Kyle, liking you was never a problem.”

He licked his cum stained lip as he began exploring his new cock. A foreign feeling from what he was used to but a dream made reality completely ramped up the sensitivity Kyle’s body normally had. But unlike Kyle, Vance was slow, delibirate. Edging himself as he pumped his new cock in front of Kyle.

Kyle felt like he was being manhandled but he couldn’t stop watching. His own new cock springing back up in arousal.

“I’ve wanted you for as looooong as I could remember. Since that day you saved me from my loneliness. I needed you to be mine. And mine alone.”

Kyle’s breath hitched, backing away as Vance approached him.

“I did everything to be at your side. I’ve followed you to your career path. I got rid of anyone that would stand between us. Because all you need is me. No one can have you”

Kyle tripped down to the chair behind him. This time, Vance caressed his trembling face. It terrified Kyle to watch his own face contort into this kind of… lust… that he would never normally have.

Vance planted his lips into his body’s mouth, forcing his new tongue to dance with his old one. He pulled back, letting their saliva bridge and trail down.

Kyle was panting, overstimulated from the revelation and sexual intensity.

Vance purred, enjoying his slightly higher voice.

“It killed me to see you leave. I never realized that the success I was bringing for us hurt you. But its over now.”

He pumped faster now, their dicks and their sweaty bodies colliding.

“I will follow you to the ends of the earth. I wont let anything stand in my way. I trained my body to protect you.”

With his free hand, Vance twisted his old body’s nipple and he ravaged Kyle’s neck with a long, sensual kiss.

“And now… I can. Forever.” He let out a long gutteral cry completely foreign from Kyle’s usual demeanor. A stream of white cum showered Vance’s old body.

He panted, smiling from an orgasm he never felt before. He scooped up some cum and gave it a taste. “From within, I will always have this… delicious body. And no one who ever wants to hurt you will know it was never you in the first place.”

He licked the rest of the cum up and kissed Kyle. Letting Kyle’s former sweet tasting cum swirl within both their mouths.

“Come here. I will show you the depths of my love.”

It wasnt love. It was obsession.

“Vance… Vance, no. Vance-“

Vance covered his mouth.

“Shh… it’s Kyle.”

The new Kyle smiled before planting his new mouth into the new Vance’s dick.

“OH GOD!” Kyle- no, Vance held onto Kyle’s bobbing head as he received the best head he’s ever had in years.

“Kyle… KYLE!”

His new cock warmed up, another round of cum finally erupting. And Kyle swallowed it all.

It had been three months since the body swap.

Vance had moved into Kyle’s home and restarted his career in a new advertising agency. Kyle would soon join him, a return to a life he had supposedly “abandoned” and quietly supported him. The experimental research for Kyle’s mind to data project was shelved and hidden away.

While Vance went on to enjoy a life of success, Kyle would enjoy the body of his one true lust love.

“Rest easy baby. I wont let anything or anyone hurt you…”

Hey! Etoile Cyber here. I’ve been a long time reader of body swap stories and thought I’d try my hand at wrting one for once!

I Hope you guys liked it!

#body swap #body switch #male body swap #body theft #male body theft #identity theft #identity swap #bodyswap

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