#god. guys if they explain any of this in the rolled i NEED to know. please

[namelessprince]

i have so many questions about how the blackops work. i wonder how sentient they are? are they truly individuals, or are they totally controlled?

doppelgilly seemed to be able to make his own decisions, since he willingly got into the portable hole after they asked him to- and he drew a card when gillion begged him to, for the sake of their friends.

if he can go against his programming like that, can the others? could he turn against the navy if he really wanted to, or would he still be forced and controlled into doing what they want?

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Neighbour - Noncon

With your electricity out and your devices dead, you have no choice but to turn to your neighbour for help. He's more than willing to welcome you into his home. Really, you're lucky he's such a nice guy.

Tags: male yandere x gender neutral reader, noncon, somno, just the tip anal, daddy kink but only if you squint, 3.3k words

Living in the middle of nowhere had its perks. Privacy. Untouched nature. Peace and quiet.

But after the third day with no electricity, those perks were starting to look pretty damn weak. Your fridge was sitting in an ever expanding puddle. Almost all your devices were dead. And if you had to take one more cold shower you were going to cry.

It was when you were digging through your drawer looking for desperately needed batteries that you found your neighbour's number. He'd offered it to you a little while after you moved in, and while you two were on friendly terms, you'd never actually spoken for longer than a few minutes. You sighed, looked at the 10% left on your phone and decided that desperate times called for desperate measures.

You: hey, it's me. I still haven't got any power. Do you mind if I come over to charge some stuff?

He replied almost instantly.

Unknown: aww that sucks

Unknown: come on over. I've got hot stew and a generator

Unknown: and you can take a hot shower too if you want

Score. And to think you found him intimidating at first. Just goes to show that you can't judge on appearances. You packed a change of clothes, your devices and the last tub of ice cream that wasn't totally melted. You'd find some way to properly pay him back but a tub of chocolate fudge double cream wasn't a bad way to start.

He was waiting on his porch when you pulled up. A bear of a man in a flannel and blue jeans, a five o' clock shadow darkening his jaw.

"Howdy neighbour," he drawled, opening your door for you while you grabbed your stuff. "Regretting leaving the city yet?"

You huffed a laugh. "You do NOT want to know the answer to that."

His cabin was much larger than yours, a two storey behemoth with wide windows and exposed beams. It had a rustic charm - like some natural park Air BnB where they charged a weeks pay for just one night. A little too big for just one man. Didn't he get lonely?

"I brought some ice cream and chocolate to say thank you. And also because it miiight have been melting."

He opened the door for you and ushered you through with a hand on your lower back.

"Hell, I'll never say no to something sweet."

There was a fire burning in the fireplace and a stack of logs in a crate next to it. He was so much better suited to this life than you were. He locked the door behind you and slipped the keys into his pocket.

"Old habit," he explained with an easy grin.

"Why don't you get settled? I'll plug your stuff in."

You handed over your tech with a relieved sigh.

"Thank you. Really. I'm so behind on work already and I haven't heard anything back from the power company."

"I wouldn't hold my breath," he said. "Once ended up going a week straight with not even a light bulb flickering."

You winced. "It gets that bad?"

"Yep. Especially in winter. Gets dangerous then too."

He tilted his head at you, concerned. "You need to get yourself better sorted before it starts snowing. I hate to think of you stuck out there when the blizzards start rolling in."

God, could you be any more of a city slicker? You rubbed your neck, embarrassed.

"Thanks. I've been here a few months now and I guess I just didn't realise how serious things can get."

"It's all good. But if I'm honest, I get worried thinking about you out there all alone. Plenty of drifters end up passing through. Not a good place to be alone, not for a little thing like yourself."

Little? You wanted to feel indignant, but looking at his bulk, you reckoned that most folk probably seemed little to him.

He lead you to the fireplace and poured you a mug of coffee from the pot that was waiting for you. He jerked his head at the hunting rifle on display above the mantle.

"I can teach you to shoot, if you've got some free time."

You took a sip of the coffee, internally debating with yourself. You could see the sense in your offer but you weren't a big fan of guns. Hell, just being around them was nerve wrecking enough. Maybe -

You looked down at your mug in surprise.

"This is some really good stuff."

The coffee was strong, bitter in the best sort of way. You could catch a hint of chocolate in it too. Just sweet enough to make your toes curl.

" 'Course. Only the best for my guest. Help yourself to another cup. I'll just put your stuff on charge and be right back."

You finished your drink in a few sips and happily poured a second serving. Hot coffee... man, you didn't think three days without it would be so tough. Usually, you were pretty sensitive to caffeine. But by the time your neighbour came back, your head was tilted back and you were half asleep.

You tried to shake yourself out of it but he just laughed and pushed you back down.

"You probably haven't had a good sleep since the power went out. Just rest. We can talk once you wake up."

"I'm sorry..."

"It's fine." His hand was still on your shoulder, thumb rubbing small circles into your neck. "It's just fine with me."

You drifted off after that. Into a deep sleep without any dreams. Waking up was like slogging through molasses.

"Finally up sleepy head?"

It was dark outside and your neighbour was on one knee in front of the fire place, coaxing fresh wood to catch.

You sat up slowly. Your muscles ached and there was a strange, salty taste on your tongue.

"My heads killing me..."

He stood, poker still in his hand. "You must be starving then. I've already got some food on the stove. You'll feel better after you eat."

You didn't feel hungry at all. If anything, you felt almost hangover.

"Thanks," you managed. "I'm sorry to be such a bother."

He waved you away. "I don't mind a bit."

He came back with a bowl of steaming hot chow and stood with his arms crossed on the back of your couch while you ate.

"It's real late. I reckon you should stay over. I don't want you driving on dirt when it's so dark."

"Oh, it's fine. I've already put you out so much."

"Don't be silly. I insist."

You shivered without meaning to. That almost growl, low and bordering on menacing. It was so familiar, so...

"Just like that. Look at you, half asleep and still desperate for my cock."

"You like the taste? Yeah, I bet you fucking do."

"Ain't just gonna use your mouth next time."

You squeezed your eyes shut. Where the hell was this coming from? Were you remembering some sick dream from this afternoon?

"You okay there neighbour?"

You nodded. "Just my head."

Maybe he was right. Driving when you were so disorientated was just asking for trouble.

"If you really don't mind... I'll be happy to sleep over."

He laughed, a deep, rumbling thing. "I'll make the guest room up special, just for you."

"Could I use your shower too?"

"I offered didn't I? Come on, I'll show you where it is."

He took you to the master bedroom and jerked his thumb at the en-suite.

"Hot water is the most reliable in there. Door doesn't close that well though, so don't mind it. I'll be downstairs when you're done."

You brushed your teeth carefully. You lips felt sore, bruised in a way you couldn't explain.

You waited until you heard his footsteps going down the stairs before you stripped off your clothes. You stood under the hot water for a good few minutes, luxuriating in the feeling. The bathroom was thick with steam when you finally got to scrubbing yourself. The door was open just a crack and the bedroom beyond was dark. You forgot all about it until you heard the creak of the hinges.

You whirled to face the door, your hands coming up to cover yourself. The steam was too thick to see through. You called his name.

Nothing.

You stepped out with suds still on your thighs and pushed the door open. The room beyond was empty.

You sighed. God, you were being paranoid. Your neighbour was a great guy. It was unfair of you to treat him like a peeping tom when he'd gone out of his way to make you comfortable. It must have been just an errant draught.

You stepped back into the shower and rinsed yourself off. But no matter what you told yourself, you still kept an eye on the door.

When you went to change into your fresh clothes, you spent at least five minutes hunting for your underwear. Did you drop it somewhere? Oh, please say your undies weren't just sitting in the middle of his hallway. That would be beyond embarrassing.

Eventually you gave up and just decided to go without them. Not comfortable at all but still better than walking around in a towel to look for them. And much better than calling your neighbour in to help. Wouldn't that be fun? 'Hey neighbour that I don't know that well, you haven't seen my intimates lying around, have you?' Yeah, you'd never again get invited over after something like that.

When you were dressed, you found him already on his way up the hall. He was carrying a glass of water and some pills.

"Thought you might still have a headache, so I brought you some painkillers."

You paused, nervous but not sure why.

"Thanks." His hands dwarfed yours when he handed them over. You didn't recognise the name of on the pills, but they looked harmless. You tossed them back and gagged at the bitter aftertaste.

"They pack a punch, so tell me when you start to get drowsy."

"Aye aye captain."

You followed him to the guest room. It was at the very back on the second story, quieter than the rest of the house. A huge glass wall gave you a view of the forest disappearing into the darkness. You could see the ghost of your reflection in the glass, your neighbour a hulking, shapeless mass at your shoulder.

He took a seat in an armchair across form the bed and stretched out his legs. You perched on the edge of the mattress, still feeling a bit like an intruder.

"How long have you been staying out here?” you asked.

He smiled at you, teeth glinting almost wolf-like. "Got you curious?"

"A little. Folk in town say they hardly see you. I don't know... I'm just wondering if you ever get lonely."

He was quiet and you cursed yourself for being so nosy. You hurried to fill the silence.

"It's just that I get a bit lonely out here too. 'Specially when it's so quiet. And I guess I was wondering if it's the same for you."

He smiled at you, rueful. "At times. Used to be worse, but I've got a new interest to keep me occupied nowadays."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"Bird watching."

"Really? What do you look for?"

The way the room was lit up, you couldn't see his eyes. They fell into shadow and you only had his lips to read his emotions by. He smirked, slow and almost mocking.

"Just one bird I look out for. Flighty little thing. Tends to get caught by predators a lot. You’d probably recognise it."

The polite thing to do would be to ask what it was called. You didn't. Some part of whispered that you wouldn't like the answer.

You must have been quiet a little too long because he took it as his cue to leave. He stood, a mountain of muscle, his eyes not quite as nice as they seemed that afternoon. A trick of the light, surely. He wouldn't hurt a fly.

"You rest up. Got a busy day tomorrow."

"G'night."

He was gone before you thought to ask what he meant. And you were passed out on your pillows before you realised it. He was right. The pills sure did pack one hell of a punch.

You were aware of a shadow at the end of your bed. You weren't fully awake, and your limbs were slow and heavy with more than just sleep.

"Who..."

The shadow reached down and one warm paw circled your ankle.

"Just me little bird."

You knew that voice. It was the voice that brought you warm food and invited you in from the cold. You could trust it. Could go back to sleep and not worry about anything.

'No,' some part of you hissed, 'He's not as safe as you think.'

"Cold..."

The shadow laughed and it was the laugh of the fox finding the rabbit's den. Nasty. Hungry.

"Cold huh? Don't worry baby. I'll warm you right up."

He yanked your ankle towards him and your whole body slid down the bed. You were too drowsy to stop it.

"Knew you were gonna be mine the second I saw you," he cooed, hands running up your thighs.

His fingers slipped under your waistband, nails scraping your hip bones.

"Dumb little thing from the city. Doesn't even realise I've tripped all their breakers. That's why you don't have power baby. It's all me."

His fingers were as big as the rest of him. Thick, meaty. Skin rough from working outdoors. You whined when his fingertips scraped the edges of your hole.

"No underwear. You needy slut. That's practically a written and signed invitation to fuck you."

He pulled your pants down to your ankles and pushed your knees up to your stomach. And you were too out of it to stop him. Limp and pliable as a fuck doll.

Your tight ass was exposed to the cold air, entirely at the mercy of whatever he wanted to do.

"Cute." He circled his thumb around the rim, almost pushing in but not quite. "Wanted to be in this ass since you first showed up at my door all those months ago. Lookin' up at me all sweet. Fuck, it's enough to drive a man to desperation."

He lowered his head and you could feel his warm breath washing over your thighs.

He dragged his tongue across your hole. Some part of you must have been more awake than the rest, because your whole body jerked away from him.

"None of that," he cooed, hands digging into your thighs and dragging you back. "I haven't even gotten started yet."

He licked you again, deeper this time. The flexed tip of his tongue pushing at your entrance, and to your dull horror, actually slipping in. He moaned and you could feel the vibrations all through your crotch.

He pulled out and spat, rubbed it in with his fingers. One of them pushed in until the second joint, curling into your walls so rough that you gasped.

"Please..."

"Please what?" he mocked. "Please fuck my tight little ass? Please cum inside me? Use your words little bird."

"Please...stop..."

That made him laugh again, made him shove his finger in all the way to the knuckle. Twisting so cruelly as he pulled out and jerked back in.

"Stop? Stop? After all the work it took to get you here? No way baby. I'm not slowing down and I'm sure as fuck not stopping."

You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, followed by a sharp intake of breath when he nudged his leaking head against your hole.

"You’re not going to remember this. And I'm not going to leave any evidence."

He pushed your legs tighter against your chest.

"So as much as I want to fuck you rotten, you're gonna have to be happy with just the tip."

He'd done a good job loosening and lubing you, but it still burned like a hot poker when he forced his way in. He groaned, almost in pain.

"You're fucking choking me. God, do you want my cum so bad?"

You could feel when the tip was in. That tiny difference in thickness between his head and shaft was oh so noticeable when your ass was clenching and fluttering around it. It was the smallest mercy, but mercy nonetheless.

He was panting from the effort of getting it in, the effort of holding back. The size difference between you almost perverse. Like a draft stallion trying to mount a pony. In every way, he was just too fucking big.

He spat in his hand and brought it to his cock, ran his palm up and down his shaft with sickly wet strokes. The combination of his palm and your squeezing ass was fucking delicious.

He had great stamina but fuck if it didn't feel like you were milking him.

He let go long enough to smack your ass. It almost finished him. You clenched around him so hard it felt like his tip was getting fucking crushed.

"Shiiiit, you're the best hole I've ever had. Can't wait 'til I can go all the way."

You whined, pitiful as snared prey. There were words there, though they were too slurred to make out. Something about Daddy and please and stop. He ignored you.

He pushed in a little deeper and watched your face scrunching up. So helpless, so fucking caught. That was what did it. The knowledge that he could do this to you at any point and you'd be helpless to stop it.

He came inside you, snarling through clenched teeth, his fingers digging into your thigh hard enough to bruise. You'd notice the marks in the morning and chalk it up to just being clumsy. But he'd know. He'd see the bruises peeking out from the hem of your shorts and his cock would twitch just a little at the memory of leaving them.

His cock pulsed. Shot strings of spunk deep inside you. You could feel it. Hot, too hot. Gross. Make it stop. Get it out.

He pulled out with a wet pop. His cum drooled down and he took a minute to work it back into you with his finger. Your hole was gaping just a little and it made his balls pulse. If he had the time...

"A real fucking mess. And on my good sheets too. You're a terrible guest."

He mopped up whatever cum remained with a balled up piece of martial that he pulled from his pocket. Even in you stupor, you recognised it as your missing underwear.

"Terrible guest, but the perks of having you around are pretty fucking sweet."

He dropped your knees back to the mattress, pulled your pants back into place and roughly yanked the duvet over you. He grabbed your jaw and smiled at the lost, drowsy look in your half open eyes.

"Got a big day tomorrow. Gonna wake up and find your whole house was flooded. Ruined. Gonna have nowhere to stay but with me."

He sounded smug. It made your guts twist.

Outside, the night grew quiet. A predator was hunting and most prey knew better than to catch its attention.

"I made sure of it. All your family and friends in the city are away from home. There's no one around to help you out..."

He tightened his grip just enough to watch the fear start dancing in your eyes.

"No one...except me."

He let you go and smiled that same warm, comforting smile from that afternoon.

"Dumb little thing. Got no clue how your water mains work, do you? Got no idea how easy they are to sabotage."

He tutted. "Got me so damn busy. I'm gonna have to run to your place, fuck shit up and be back here before you wake up for real."

He traced his index finger over your lips and left behind a sticky coating of spunk. You'd wake up tasting salt again, with no memory of why.

"But it's fine. I forgive you. After today we'll have plenty of time together. Rest of our lives in fact. So just sleep tight and forget what you think you've dreamed."

There are perks to living in the middle nowhere. Privacy. Untouched nature. Peace and quiet.

There are perks, but unfortunately for you, your neighbour isn't one of them.

[dollfacefantasy]

can't get started ♡

older bf!logan howlett x fem!reader

logan can't get it up one night and is humiliated. but that just means he'll have to prove he can still satisfy you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, daddy kink, age gap (reader in 20s)

a/n: the part in dpw where he said he's got whiskey dick with the claws turned me on too much tbh

This had never happened to Logan before.

That wasn't a lie he was telling you to make himself look less pathetic. It wasn't an affirmation he repeated in his own head to feel like he was still hot shit. It was the truth. One he would swear to on anything.

He'd never had a problem getting it up before.

Not with you, not with anyone. He thought the healing factor made him immune to whiskey dick or any kind of down-there dysfunction. But apparently not. Because the two of you finally had some time alone after being amidst the chaos of the mansion all day and his body was stalling.

The second he had the bedroom door shut, you were dragging him over to the bed and climbing into his lap. You were doing everything like usual. Your lips pressed against his, and then moved to his jawline and down his neck. Your hands glided across the firm muscles of his chest. Your hips rolled down against his lap, beckoning the appendage between his legs to reciprocate your desire.

But it just wouldn't. He tried to make it because it wasn't a matter of not wanting you. He wanted you bad. 

He grabs your chin and brings your lips back up to his mouth so he can communicate his passion wordlessly. He digs his fingers into your hips, feeling the beginnings of where your flesh swells into your ass. He envisions how you'd been prancing around the whole day, cute tits pushing against the fabric of your t-shirt and calling out for him to grab.

You're so soft and warm. The little mewls that leave your lips sound like calls of angels up above. It doesn't matter though. His cock had clocked out for the night.

"God damnit," he grumbles before brushing you off his lap and bringing his fist down against the mattress. He sighs and his head hangs.

He can already sense the look on your face. Worry, hesitation, and affection swirling into one humiliating look. He feels your hand find his shoulder, the touch tender and accepting.

"It's ok, Logan. We don't have to," you say. Your tone is so soft and gentle, and it just drives him fucking nuts.

"But you want to," he says and looks over at you. The look in your eyes kills him. He knows you don't mean it, but it looks so patronizing. As if he's an old dog about to be taken out back and old yeller'd.

"Yeah but I don't want you to force yourself. We can just cuddle," you offer, sweet as can be.

"It's not forcing, I want to do this. I want you so bad," he says and cups your cheek. He pulls you back onto his lap and nuzzles your neck. "Been thinking about this all day."

You let out a little sigh as he lays some kisses on the column of your throat, and that gives him a spark of hope. Maybe he can do this. Maybe he doesn't have to be put out to pasture just yet. The two of you make out and grind and feel each other up some more. But eventually your tits are all but in his face and his dick still doesn't have a pulse.

He huffs and pulls back. 'Fuck, I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says.

You watch him, the gleam in your eyes as adoring as ever. It was the same look you gave him when you'd have to explain a basic function of a cell phone to him.

"It's ok. You don't have to be embarrassed," you reassure and lean in to peck his cheek.

He groans and gently brushes you off. "Don't. I don't need you coddling me."

"I'm just saying. I understand," you say with conviction, hands splaying on your chest to physically convey your empathy, "It happens to lots of guys when they get older. You don't have to be ashamed of it with me."

And in that moment, he wishes he didn't have his mutation so he could just die on the spot from being utterly mortified. He'd actually have preferred if you laughed in his face and called him an old man. A sad, old, perverted fuck who decided to date some half his age even though he couldn't keep up with her appetite. If you'd told him you were gonna find someone who could satisfy you, it probably would've stung less than being talked to like a patient who doesn't know their cancer is terminal.

There was no chance in hell, you'd ever do any of that though. As much as he hated that fact right now, it was part of why he loved you.

All he does is mumble a thank you and kiss the corner of your mouth. He doesn't just cuddle you after though. He gets you off on his thigh. You were still going to cum even if he couldn't. When you're done, he holds you close and rubs your back till you're sleeping curled up to his side.

His night isn't very restful though. It's haunted with the prospect of future incidents like this, of your perception of him changing. The look in your eyes changing from admiration to pity.

He can't live with that. The next day for the two of you is super busy, but he makes sure there's a spot at the end of it for him to secure his redemption.

This time around it's him carting you away from the others once the sun is down, mouth on the curve of your neck before you even reach the bedroom. His hands grope your waist and paw at your tits. You stumble into the door, bumping it loud enough that you'd be worried about someone hearing you if they weren't all downstairs.

"Logan..." you giggle. You push your ass back against him and glance at him out of your peripheral.

"Not what you're gonna be calling me before the night is done, sweet thing," he grunts and boosts you up.

Your legs press into his sides to support yourself as he opens the door. He takes the two of you inside and kicks it shut behind him before heading to the bed and tossing you on the mattress.

You look up at him with a coy smile, arms propping you up and one of your legs extended to entice him.

"You know... you don't have to prove anything to me, right?" you say.

"Oh, I don't?" he asks and grabs your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed so your hips meet, "You're too easy to please, babydoll."

Another laugh bubbles through your lips. Your legs drop to lock around his waist. "I'm just saying. It's like totally normal, and I don't want you to get all grumpy about it."

"Oh, I get grumpy, do I?" he asks as he leans over you. His large body envelopes yours on the mattress. He ducks down further to swallow your words up with kisses.

You hum into the exchange but pull back a little to finish your thought.

"Mhm, you do. And I just don't want you to feel that way cause I knew when we got together what I was getting into," you say.

Your confidence is so cute. You talk with absolute certainty, like you understand all there is to be understood about him. Like you'd known him forever and he hadn't been doing things like this for decades longer than you walked this earth.

His mouth crashes against yours again, his body weighing down on you and crushing you into the mattress. 

"You did, hm? You knew what you were getting into? You got with me thinking I wouldn't be able to give it to you how you need all the time?" he mutters against your skin.

"I didn't mean it like-"

"Didn't mean it like that? How'd you mean it then, sweetheart?"

"I dunno..."

"Doesn't sound like you knew what you were getting into to me," he breathes.

That little sentence that you'd said in an attempt to comfort him unlocked something between the two of you. He felt his cock waking up and pressing against his zipper, eager to get out and slide home. It's hard to register your clothes being pulled off when he's got his tongue in your mouth and his fingers playing with your clit. In no time at all, he's got the both of you bare and his cock nestled between your thighs.

Like he already knew, the issue last night had never been about lack of desire. And he intended to prove that to you, fuck you so good it wiped your memory of any placating word that fell from your lips.

He ruts into you hard. The mattress rocks on the bed frame and threatens to slide off. His dick is big and even though it's not a new sensation for you, each time you take it is a stretch. It's even more so when he pushes you up by the back of your knees. You whine as you're folded in half. His thrusts hit your sweet spot every time at this angle.

"Thought you knew what you were getting into?" he teases as he pistons himself in and out.

You mewl and bob your head, though you aren't sure if you're shaking your head or nodding.

"Fuckkkk, Logan. 'm sorry," you pant. Your walls squeeze tight around his shaft as your eyes close up. He made every part of your body contract and feel like it was moments from exploding.

He simply laughs at your apology. "Don't gotta be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just showing you what happens when I get older."

His balls hang heavy and swing with each motion, clapping against your ass. The heat between your legs is enough to make you squirm. Constant whimpers pour from your lips as he fucks into you without mercy.

"I know," you moan, "You fuck me better than anyone else."

"That's right," he grunts, "Nobody else could fuck you like this. Just me."

"Mhm, just daddy," you slur and cling onto him tighter. Your arms hook around his neck and keep his sweaty skin flush against yours.

"Just daddy," he repeats, his tone smooth like silk despite his raspy voice, "You don't need anyone else. Not when I can take care of you like this."

His tip prods at your cervix, making you yelp and buck. He doesn't stop though, just keeps battering into you, hammering into your warm, wet hole.

"You don't need any little boys thinking they know how to handle you," he breathes and nuzzles your neck, "Your old man can handle you just fine, make you cum whenever you need."

A strangled cry leaves your lips. Your nails dig into his back so hard that it seems like you wanted to draw blood. His words just make you melt for him. Reduce you down to a compliant jumble of flesh for him to mold and play with how he wants.

"Needa cum right now, daddy," you whine.

"I know you do, spoiled girl. You act so understanding, but I know that little pussy is aching to cum around my cock. To get filled up with my cum," he murmurs.

You nod wildly.

He chuckles at your eagerness and snaps against you even harder.

"Hold on tight, baby," he whispers.

His hips ricochet off your ass, clapping against you with intensity that borders on violent. You squeal and hang on as directed. Your whole body rocks with his momentum. Your head bobbles around like it's empty, which it is. Empty of everything but him.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck," you whimper.

"Let it out for me. Let me feel you burst, pretty girl," he grunts as he continues plowing into you.

Your body rolls. Your hips vibrate with the ecstasy release brings you. It crashes over you in one intense wave, like a gallon of liquid euphoria being poured over you. Your eyes flutter, and you bury your face in his neck like he has his in yours.

He fucks you through it. Coos in your ear too. "That's my baby. My sweet girl. Always sound so pretty when you're cumming."

One of your hands flies up to clutch at his thick, dark hair. Keeping him close keeps the words flowing.

"Getting so tight for me, fuck. No one can make me cum like you, honey. Drains me dry every fucking time."

Moments later he spurts into you, unloading thick ropes of his spend inside you. You let out another moan from that sensation alone. He growls and pants against your skin, his hands locking you in place as his hips pummel into your cunt and make sure every last drop has been released.

He lingers on you for a few moments before pulling out. His body feels loose in the afterglow. He stands at the edge of the bed and looks down at himself and then you. He knows he's gonna have to clean you up. Your inner thighs are shimmery with a mix of fluids, and the bush of dark hair at the base of his cock is in the same condition.

"Time to shower, baby?" he asks and pats your leg. You don't respond at first and he smirks. "Or did I tire you out too much?"

You whine something incoherent and shift to turn your face against the blankets. His smug look grows. He crawls over you again and nips at your jaw, rubbing his nose against your cheekbone.

"You know, it's ok, sweetheart. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's totally normal for pretty little things like you. I knew that going in."

His tone mimics your soft and understanding one from earlier. You make a little growl and swat at his bicep.

“Shut up, old man.”

[sincerelyneo]

death by a thousand cuts | l.hc

“but if the story’s over, why am i still writing pages?”

💿now playing: death by a thousand cuts by taylor swift

❯ summary: If you get more than one love in a lifetime, why does your heart still beat for the boy who wrecked you completely?

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, second chance, cheating trope, smut.

❯ words: 9.6k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, cheating (booo), exes, toxic relationship, a therapy joke, lots of angst, swearing, heartbreak, a whole lotta hurt, drinking, insecurities, jealousy, arguing, heavy petting, protected sex, nipple play, oral sex (fem receiving), i can’t lie this is just 9k words of heartache and sex lol.

an: this fic will not be for everyone!! i do not condone cheating in any way, you’re a loser if you cheat. i just felt like writing something heart achey, and this is my favourite taylor swift song that inspires cheating fics whenever i listen to it.

“Give me that!”

Yeji snatches the phone out of your hand with the kind of urgency only a best friend possesses—the kind forged after too many years of watching you do the stupidest things when it comes to boys. Her eyes flare the moment she spots the familiar username. 

@ haechanahceah

“Oh my god. You’re kidding.” Her thumb hovers accusingly over the screen. “Y/N, it’s been a year. A whole year. Why haven’t you blocked Hyuck yet?”

You don’t answer immediately. Just tilt your head back with an exhausted exhale, reaching for the phone. Not because you want it back, but because it feels incriminating in her hands. Like a wound she’s now inspecting. And you don’t need her inspecting it.

“Because we’re okay,” you say, not entirely convincingly. “Mostly.”

It was just a like. On an Instagram post. Of him—with his friends.

(Some of them girls. Most of them girls. All of them tagged. And you definitely weren’t planning on clicking through their profiles in the middle of your best friend coffee date with your screen brightness criminally low. Definitely not.)

“And because we’re friends,” you add breezily. Then you pluck the phone from her hand and tap back into the app, your thumb moving faster than your brain, already leaving a comment beneath his photo.

Something flippant. Something funny. Something that screams: See? I’m a functioning, emotionally stable adult who can totally be friends with the boy who annihilated my heart while he gallivants around Europe on a boat with girls. 

Except probably subtler. 

Yeji stares at you like she’s witnessing a slow-motion car crash. “Oh, absolutely. And when that guy drove me home from the bar last weekend and told me I had pretty eyes, we were just friends too.”

You roll your eyes, swatting the air with your hand. “That’s different. Hyuck’s my childhood best friend. I can’t just cut him off now that we’re not…” you pause, the words catching in your throat like they always do, “you know?”

“No. I don’t know,” she says, arms crossed and chin lifted in that annoyingly perceptive way of hers. “Because you two are in a loop. An exhausting, toxic, ‘I-don’t-know-where-we-stand-with-each-other’ loop. And staying in touch with him is why you can’t move on.”

“We are not toxic.”

You are. 

But you’d already said it out loud like a reflex, before you even had time to make it sound believable. So, you try to fix it. 

“We’re just…”

You trail off, blinking hard like the answer might fall from the ceiling.

 “Co-dependent?” Lia offers helpfully. 

 You sigh. “Yes. That. Thank you, Lia.”

“It’s weird, is what it is,” Yeji says. 

You lean back in your chair, arms folded across your chest like armour. “Ugh. You wouldn’t get it.”

And they wouldn’t. They never have.

Because nobody gets you and Hyuck. Not Yeji, not Lia, not even the therapists you’ve paid a concerning amount of money to explain it all to you. No amount of therapy or psychoanalysis can remove the him-shaped hole inside of you. The way he exists like a second heartbeat.

How many times does a person truly get to fall in love? Not the practical kind. But the kind that rewires you completely. That makes you wonder how you ever existed before this person, and fear who you might become after. 

If love were fair—the answer would be simple. Once. Only ever once.

Because to love someone—truly love someone—is not just to hand over your heart. It’s to fold it delicately, wrap it in every part of your soul, and place it willingly in that person’s pocket. Trusting that they won’t ever give it back frayed or barely beating. 

And if they do (and he definitely did) well, what remains might resemble a heart, but it never beats the same again. You don’t think it ever will.

So yes. One love. One person. One boy—him.

Yeji calls it nostalgia. Says that since he was your first everything, it feels bigger than it was, and that’s why he’s taking up too much space inside your chest. She says you're scared of forgetting. But that’s not it.

You’d give anything to forget. It’s better than remembering everything. Of living in a world where he’s everywhere and nowhere all at once. Where songs feel like him. Where movies feel like him. Where your own body sometimes feels like him because he’s marked it so damn much.

But if you did move on, if you could—you’d still have to ask yourself: where does all that breathless, foolish, all-consuming love go? 

The common consensus is that love turns to hate when it stays too long without being fed. But you can’t imagine a universe cruel enough to make you hate the very boy who made you believe in soulmates.

So you don’t hate him. Even though you should.

“Fine,” Yeji slumps back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes sharp with that familiar fury she reserves exclusively for you—when you’re being like this. “You’re right. I don’t get it. I don’t get why you’re still in cahoots with the same boy who cheated on you and left you a complete mess.”

Lia gasps. “Yeji!”

But the thing is—Yeji has a point. And you know that. But knowing something and truly understanding it is two different things. 

You don’t understand how he put his hands on someone else. How his mouth touched a body that wasn’t yours. How he delivered that line—“I didn’t mean for it to happen”—with the kind of ease that made you wonder just how many times he’d practised it in the mirror before he had the balls to actually tell you. 

You didn’t understand, yet you knew all the same.

You were wearing his shirt when he told you. Still in his house. Still in the space you thought was yours too. And all you could think was: how many nights did he lie next to you like nothing was wrong? How many times did he touch you with hands that had already betrayed you?

He never told you when, or who. Just a sorry. A soft one. A useless one. And a vague promise that he’d do anything to fix it.

But there are some things sorry can’t fix.

You clear your throat, suddenly too aware of how loud your heartbeat feels in a room full of people who love you enough to hate him.

“Because we’re not in cahoots,” you correct. “We’re friends, Yej. Him and I have always been friends.”

It’s not a lie. Not exactly. 

You have been friends with Hyuck ever since he moved in next door to your family when you were six. And even then—when you climbed trees and shared crayons—you think your heart was already beating for him. So much you don’t know what life is without that pulse anymore. Without a hint of him running beneath your skin.

It’s why you plaster on a smile and say, “In fact, I even invited him to my birthday party next week.”

They look at you, eyes full of pity and sympathy. And that hurts way more than him breaking you ever did. Because now your friends are staring at you like you’re some sad, shattered, pathetic thing he left behind.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Lia asks weakly. 

“You’re seriously a lunatic,” Yeji cuts in before you can respond. “You’re just dragging this out for yourself. Death by a thousand cuts and all that.”

“I am not a lunatic,” you say, shrugging her off. “It’s just... he’s still part of my life. It’s not like I’m inviting a stranger.”

“He fucked up your life,” she huffs, the words stinging. “He hurt you.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “But I love him anyway, don’t I?”

And you do. Because some loves don’t end—they just rearrange themselves. 

Yeji yanks her chair back so hard the legs screech against the floor.

“He’s gonna hurt you again,” she spits. “How many times are you gonna let him rip you apart before there’s nothing left? Before you’ve sacrificed yourself and everyone else around you and you’ve got nothing left to give?”

You want to say something, but the words get stuck, because she’s right.

Lia reaches out, “Yeji—”

“If he’s there next week, Y/N,” she says, eyes burning over her shoulder looking from you to Lia, “then I won’t be.”

When Hyuck got a DM from the only girl he’s ever loved—two days ago, now—he sobered.

Which, if you asked Mark, was some kind of divine miracle. Because Mark had been watching his best friend drink himself into oblivion for the better part of a year. A slow, intentional kind of fucked up that was clearly a desperate, pathetic attempt to forget you.

But no shot, no spirit, no stranger’s skin pressed to his could ever do the trick. Not really. Because no matter how hard Hyuck tried, the hangover was always the same: he’d wake up, and you still weren’t his girl.

So when he saw your username light up his phone, he paused. 

Because the preview didn’t give anything away. It did that annoying thing that said “2 new messages.” No hint. No breadcrumb. Just a loaded gun of a notification staring up at him.

And, of course he clicked it. He had to. You knew he would. You’d sent two back-to-back messages on purpose—he’s certain of it. Because that’s exactly the kind of person you were. Always two steps ahead. Always orchestrating even your vulnerability. 

You wanted to see when he’d read it. 

And he did.

At 2:36 a.m. Because you’d definitely be asleep by then. And that meant he had enough time to draft the right response—measured, brisk, detached—like the past year hadn’t cracked him open.

He read it in the half-light of Mark’s living room, surrounded by people he didn’t really like and a bottle of something he couldn’t quite remember picking up.

hey. i’m having a thing next friday for my birthday—just a chill party. nothing major. 

you can come, if you want.

Hyuck stares at the two messages.

It’s not because of the party. He couldn’t care less about the cake or the candles. That’s not what has his heart in his throat. It’s the fact that—for the first time in a year—you actually reached out. None of that accidentally bumping into each other nonsense you two pull. No one buys that it’s an accident. 

At least, it’s not an accident on his behalf.

It’s not an accident when he keeps frequenting the same coffee shop you once claimed made the best lattes in the city—always at the same time. It’s not a coincidence when he drives through your favourite places on rainy days, just in case you need a ride and are too proud to just call him. And it’s definitely not a coincidence that makes him take the long way to your house. He does it deliberately. He selfishly takes more of your time than he deserves.

Because saying goodbye wasn’t an option for him. Not until it had to be. He’d take prolonged suffering. Death by a thousand cuts.

And it’s not his fault. Well. It is. All of the ruin, anyway. But in the twelve months since he blew it all up, you’ve still lingered. You always do. You always will. So he just keeps showing up in your life when he knows you need to move on. Because he doesn’t want you to. 

Because everything in his life is still half-yours. And he won’t board up the windows of that love—not even now. Not when some part of you still flickers inside it, and half of his heart is still in your chest.

Hyuck stares at your message again. He types something. Deletes it. Types something else. Deletes that too.

what kind of thing is it?

Too uninterested.

who’s gonna be there?

Too nosy.

sure, if you want me there.

Too honest. 

Everything felt like a trap—too much, too little, not enough to win you back, but equally too honest and would remind you of his actions that hurt you. 

How was he supposed to respond to the girl who once memorised every mole on his face? Who was the muse of every song he’s written? Who still makes his hands shake on the keyboard? Who he cheated on? Who he destroyed completely? 

Eventually he landed on:

might swing by, angel. happy early birthday, btw.

He hit send before he could change his mind.

11:27PM

Thirty-three minutes left of your birthday, but you’re not celebrating.

Instead, you’re sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter with one leg dangling, the other tucked beneath you, whilst your dress wrinkles and bunches around your thighs because you stopped caring how ruined you looked an hour ago.  

You don’t care that your lipstick is all but gone or that your mascara is smudged under both eyes. You don’t care because he’s not here. 

You were supposed to be smiling by now. 

But he didn’t walk in. 

He still hasn’t.

And you don’t even know why you’re surprised. He’s not your boyfriend. He’s not your baby. He’s not your Hyuck anymore. He doesn’t owe you a goddamn thing—not a happy birthday, or his time. You gave that privilege up the night you stopped being his. Or maybe the night he stopped being yours. You still haven’t decided which one came first.

Still, you hoped he would come. 

It was the only thing keeping you remotely sane—delusional hope that he might still show up. That maybe he’d walk through the door like he hadn’t betrayed you and still want you. You still wanted him. 

You hated that he broke you and still got to keep the pieces. Hated that even now, on your birthday, all you could think about was him. Hated that you still wanted his birthdays, his weekends, his forever. 

You take another drink. Cheaper vodka this time, and let it burn your throat as it goes down. You want the sting. You deserve the sting. Your eyes drift (again) to the front door.

Still nothing.

“You need to stop doing that,” Lia pads barefoot into the kitchen, coming right behind you to smack both her hands on your shoulders. “Stop watching that door like a hawk. Yeji would kill you if she saw you pining after him on your birthday.”

You press your lips together and glance away like you’ve been caught red-handed. Because, well. You have.

“Yeah, well. Yeji isn’t here,” you mutter, taking another sip—longer this time. 

Lia raises an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

You drain the last of your drink and look her straight in the eye. “Because I invited him.”

Lia looks at you expectantly. You know she hates being caught between you and Yeji, but it’s clear she thinks you were wrong to invite Hyuck tonight, knowing full well how Yeji would react.

And maybe she’s right.

That’s why you sigh.

“Look, he said he might come,” you say finally. “He didn’t promise anything. Yeji was overreacting.”

“He never promises,” Lia says gently. “And yet, you keep prioritising him like he’s still that sweet boy we both used to love, who used to buy your favourite cookies before class, or pick fights with the boys who made fun of you. But he’s not that boy anymore, Y/N. And he’s not yours anymore either.”

You flinch.

She notices. Regrets it. “Sorry.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine.”

But it isn’t, not really. Because this is the first birthday he’s missed since you were kids. Since you were eleven and he showed up with a homemade card. 

It’s not fine because his absence would say something that the cheating weirdly never quite did—that he’s not the boy you fell in love with. Maybe he hasn’t been for a long time.

Lia leans against the counter beside you. “It’s allowed, you know? Being hurt.”

“I don’t get to be,” you reply, glancing at her. “He doesn’t owe me anything anymore. I was the one who didn’t want to forgive him that night. I said I was done. I don’t expect him to grovel forever.”

“No,” she agrees. “But you deserved something. More than a half-assed apology at least.”

That lands in your chest harshly. You press your tongue to your cheek, the way you do when you’re trying not to cry. You’re not drunk enough to cry yet. Give it another hour.

“Come on,” Lia sighs and wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into her side, “I’m not letting you stay in here staring at that door and giving him the power to ruin the rest of your birthday.” 

But even as she says it, your eyes flicker to that door again—still no him.

Lia doesn’t let go of your hand as she leads you out of the kitchen and into the living room, where people are scattered across the sofas and floors. They all feel like strangers at your own party because you’ve spent the whole night looking for one person who never came. 

“Y/N,” Lia says, squeezing your hand, “this is Hyunjae.”

You blink. The boy in front of you is pretty. Dark eyes, strong jaw softened by the curve of a perfect smile, black hair pushed back sexily. He’s holding a drink loosely in his hand as his eyes sweep over you. 

“Happy birthday,” he says. “You look—”

Please don’t say beautiful. Please don’t say gorgeous. Please don’t say anything he would’ve said.

“—pretty,” Hyunjae finishes. “Really fucking pretty.”

You smile. Or try to. “Thanks.”

And look, it’s not that Hyunjae isn’t nice—he is. You can already hear Yeji telling you to give him a chance. He’s the kind of boy who’d text back, who’s safe, who’d never leave you staring at a door wondering if he’ll show up on your birthday or not. Hyunjae is the kind of boy who wouldn’t cheat on you. 

But the truth is, you don’t know if you can be the girl who lets someone call her pretty and fawn anymore. Not without wondering if they’ll still mean it once they see someone better, shinier, hotter than you. 

Just like he did. 

You nod along when Hyunjae talks. You laugh where you’re supposed to. Play nice. Be sweet. But everything he says sounds like static. Everything he is feels like a placeholder. 

And then, you hear it. That deep, honey-smooth, familiar voice saying: “Happy birthday, angel.”

It slices through the room. Through you.

Because there’s only one person who ever called you that. One boy. Lee Donghyuck.

You didn’t even hear the front door open. Typical. But there he is, leaning in the doorway, all tan skin and messy hair. His hands are buried in his pockets, his jaw set tight—too tight, like he’s seconds from grinding his teeth into dust. 

But it’s not you he’s looking at. It’s Hyunjae. Sitting far too close. Arm tossed lazily behind you on the couch, thigh pointing into yours, almost grazing like he owns your space. 

And Hyuck notices. You know he notices.

His eyes narrow. Lips parting slightly as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. You know that look. You’ve seen it before. That blend of heat and hurt and possessiveness he has no right to anymore.

It hits your chest all at once—shame, hurt, lust—and you fumble. Your hand twitches with the red plastic cup still clutched tight. The drink tilts before you even realise it’s slipping. Cranberry vodka sloshes, causing sticky, cold liquid to spill down the front of your dress, dripping into the neckline. 

“Fuck—” you hiss, jerking upright as the cup lands onto the coffee table. You paw uselessly at the now soaked fabric, trying to blot it with the hem of your sleeve, but it’s only smearing it worse.

Hyunjae starts to reach for a napkin, concerned. But your eyes have already found Hyuck’s again. And the way he’s looking at you now…

Your throat goes dry. “I—I’m gonna go change.”

You don’t wait for a reply. You’re moving before anyone can stop you, heart hammering against your ribs because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

You barely make it up the stairs, breath coming fast, fingers trembling as you reach for the door to your room. You close it. But you don’t get the chance to lock it. Because the door creaks again behind you. And then it clicks shut. You spin around. And there he is.

You don’t say anything at first. 

Just stalk over to your wardrobe like it’s perfectly sane to have your ex-boyfriend—your ex-best friend, the boy you used to see every single day, the only boy you’ve ever slept with, the only person who knows all the tells on your body, the boy you still love—in your bedroom for the first time in over a year.

You wrench the closet door open. A pair of heels fall out and land with a little thud. You don’t flinch. You pretend to rifle through hangers, but you’re not looking for anything specific. All of it is just something to do with your hands, because looking at him right now would be a sick kind of torture.

“What are you doing here!?”

Hyuck doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, you only hear the soft thud of his shoes on your floor, the creak of your floorboard by the dresser. He’s closer than you want him to be.

“You invited me,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You spin around. “I invited you to my birthday party. Which started five hours ago.”

He lifts his phone, the screen glowing in the dark. “As far as I’m aware,” he says, tapping it once, “you’ve still got thirteen minutes left. So again, happy birthday, angel.”

You stiffen. 

There it is. That.

That fucking word. The one that used to make you feel warm and wanted. Now it feels like an insult wrapped in silk.

“Don’t call me that.”

That stops him. Just for a second. Then, slowly, he lowers the phone. Shoves it back into his pocket.

“I thought you liked it when I called you that.”

“I used to like it,” you spit. “Back when it meant something. You know, before you fucked someone else behind my back.”

His jaw tightens. Good, you think. The truth hurts; you hope it hurts. And maybe that makes you cruel. But then again, he was cruel first.

He rubs his jaw, then exhales. “We’re really doing this now?”

You laugh dryly. “Oh, sorry. Would you prefer we pencil it in for next week instead? Talk about it over brunch sometime, yeah?”

You turn back to your wardrobe, suddenly too irritated. Your fingers find the old grey hoodie you always loved. It looks soft. Comfortable. Definitely not party appropriate. But you don’t care because you don’t want to go back out there. Not after this.

You peel your dress off in one motion, leaving you in the black lace set you picked out this morning—because it was your birthday. Not for anyone else. Not for a boy. Certainly not for him.

Him. 

You forget for a moment that he’s still behind you.

It’s like your brain short-circuits in his presence. Like it still confuses this boy for the lifeline he used to be. Like your heart can’t shout loud enough to warn you: this boy broke us, this boy hurt us, this boy is bad for us. All it says is: this boy is Hyuck. This boy is sweet. This boy—we love.

You only remember when you hear him inhale—sharply—and turn around. 

He’s looking at you like that again. Like he did back when he loved you, and you loved him, and he hadn’t ruined everything yet. He looks hungry, and like the only thing that might satisfy him is you. 

That thought makes you clutch the hoodie to your chest. “Turn around!”

He does. Obediently. But then: 

"So, did you wear that for me?"

His voice is so annoyingly smug it makes you roll your eyes as you reply. “No.”

But your cheeks betray you. Hot. Guilty. Flushed. Thank god his back is still to you, because if he turned around now and looked at you, he’d know. Because he knows all your tells. Always has.

And from just a simple flush, he’d know that yes, you wore this set for him. That yes, despite pretending you were over him in his Instagram comments, your traitorous heart had hoped that he might come tonight and rip the set off of you.

And just in case he caught your second tell (the tremor in your voice), you twist the knife a little more.

“I wore this set for Hyunjae, actually.”

A silence. Then the fucker starts laughing.

Not a little laugh. A full-bodied, head thrown back, belly laugh. You hate how much you’ve missed that sound, how it still makes your stomach flip. 

“Five minutes ago, I might’ve believed that, angel,” he says, turning slightly. Just enough for you to catch the outline of his grin. “And it would’ve driven me fucking crazy.”

Your heart stutters when he nods toward your chest.

“But I wasn’t talking about your underwear,” he says, eyes dipping lower. 

You follow his gaze down to the delicate gold chain resting just above the swell of your breasts. The one with the tiny heart pendant. The one with the H engraving. 

“I was talking about that necklace. The one I bought you for your sixteenth birthday,” He cocks his head. Smirking now. “Did you wear it for me?”

Your fingers fly to it instinctively. You hadn’t taken it off. Not even after finding out. You always wore it underneath your clothes, tucked away like a secret, because Yeji would have a field day if she knew you still wore his necklace.

But in the heat of the moment, stripping down to your underwear, your brain hadn’t realised that he’d see it again. 

“I thought I told you to turn around,” you snap, furious with yourself.

He lifts his hands defensively. “I am turned around.”

“I meant your head, not just your body, Hyuck.”

And so he does, again. Obediently.

You pull the hoodie on. It swallows you immediately. The sleeves dangle past your hands, the hem skims your thighs, and it smells like dust and weirdly like…the boy behind you.

“I’m decent,” you mutter.

He turns around, eyes flicking down before he smiles. Not smug, this time. Just soft and… a little sad?

“That’s mine.”

You roll your eyes, tugging at the sleeves. “No it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is. It’s massive on you. And unless you’ve got a secret stash of men’s hoodies in your closet, that one’s mine.”

You glare. “Oh yeah? And who says I don’t have a collection of men’s hoodies in my closet?”

“I do.”

 So fast. So sure.

You scoff, a single sharp laugh. “God, you think so highly of yourself.”

He crosses his arms—all tensed jaw and too-tight t-shirt—and it’s irritating, how stupidly good he looks whilst being smug.

“Yeah,” he says, deadpan. “I do. Because, despite us being broken up, you still wear my necklace.”  He nods toward your nightstand.  “You still have a photo of us beside your bed.” And then, one step closer. “And you fucking invited me here tonight.”

You lift your chin. “I invited everyone. It was a mass text.”

“Funny,” he says, a fake smile forming, “Mark didn’t get a text.”

“Aww,” you coo, mocking. “You still talk to your friends about me, Hyuck? Christ. Now I’m gonna start thinking highly of myself.”

“You should.”

For some reason, those two simple words hit you like a slap across the face. Because no.

“You don’t get to do that!” you snap at him. “You don’t get to tell me I should think highly of myself when you’re the exact reason I can’t even imagine the top anymore, Hyuck!” You laugh bitterly. “I don’t know my worth because you had me. But you wanted something else.”

And in that moment—maybe it’s your tone, or maybe it’s accountability—a flash of hurt crosses his face, that makes him wince. 

“Y/N, angel…” His voice cracks a little on your name, as he runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck! It was one mistake. You don’t understand—”

But you don’t want to hear it. You’ve already heard it.

You hold up a hand, stopping him from wasting his breath. “I don’t want to understand anything about the night you decided to fuck another girl, thank you very much, Hyuck.”

“Of course, I get that but—”

“But?”  you raise an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“Yes, but, Y/N,” he fires back. “Because I don’t know what you want from me. You say you don’t want to forgive me—and I get it. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He’s pacing now. “But you string me along. You comment on my posts, you let me drive you home, you still have my fucking hoodies—”

His eyes flick down to the one you’re wearing now, oversized and drooping around the neckline to show that gold chain. 

“—you wear my initials around your neck, and you asked me to come tonight—you. And now you’re mad that I’m here?”

His voice rises and you swallow—hard. Like maybe if you keep swallowing, you’ll stop the tears from climbing all the way up your throat. Because it’s all too raw. All of it. Him. You.This.

He’s unraveling in front of you. And even though you know—deep in your bones—that he doesn’t have the right to be this angry, a part of you gets it. Because this awful, splintered, aching love you have for him is confusing. It’s contradictory. It fucks with your brain so much that it doesn’t matter that you’re hurting because he’s hurting too. 

And that’s all you can focus on.

It’s like you said:  nobody gets you and Hyuck. 

“I don’t know what you want from me, angel,” he says again, quieter this time. He takes a slow step forward. Close enough to reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, like he used to.

His hand lingers.

“I don’t know what you want,” he breathes, “but if you tell me—I’ll give it to you.”

Your breath stutters. Your throat tightens.

And then, so quiet you almost miss it: “Because. I. Love. You.”

You close your eyes. You don’t want to. You don’t even mean to. But those three words wrap around you tight. 

“Don’t,” your voice cracks. “Don’t say that to me, Hyuck. Not after everything.”

When you open your eyes again, they’re full of tears. Angry ones. Bitter ones. Hopeful ones too—because you’re weak, and stupid, and still a little bit in love with a boy who shattered you.

“I mean it,” he says instantly. His hand twitches at his side—you see it. He wants to touch you. Wants to wipe your tears like he used to because he hates them. But he doesn’t know if he has permission anymore. (He does, but he doesn’t know he does.)

“I’ve always meant it.”

“Then why’d you throw it all away?” You spit the words out like poison. “Why did you ruin us for a quick fuck?”

“I don’t know,” he breathes, stepping back. “But I do know I hurt you. And I’ll hate myself for that forever. But I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”

You laugh. But it sounds more like a sob. “You have a funny way of showing love.”

“I know.”

“You know everything,” you say, “except why you did it.”

A beat passes. Two. Three.

“You should go,” you whisper. “The party’s over. You’ve said what you needed to say. And I thought I could do this but I can’t.”

“No.”

Your eyes fly to his. He’s shaking his head, tongue in his cheek again as he sniffs.

“No,” he says again “I’m not leaving us like this.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Liar.”

“Hyuck—”

“You want me to say it again?” he asks, voice rising just slightly. Not angry. Only desperate. “You want me to beg? Fine. I will. I’ll fucking get on my knees if that’s what it takes.”

And then, to your absolute horror, he does. 

“Hyuck, stop—”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry for everything. For all of it. For her. For the lies. For shattering everything good we ever had. But I love you, Y/N. And I’m not sorry for that. I’ll never be sorry for that.”

You’re trying to stay angry. Trying to hold onto the rage but it’s slipping. Because you want him. You love him.

He’s still on his knees. Still looking up at you. Still pleading. You wish he’d just stand up. You wish he didn’t look so much like the boy you fell in love with instead of the man who broke you.

“Please,” he says again.“I know I don’t get to ask. But I’m asking anyway. I’m asking because I love you. I never stopped. I swear to God, I never—”

“Stop it,” you say, too fast.

It feels like your chest caves in. Because the thing about love is: it’s loud. Louder than hurt. Especially right now. You love him so much you could scream. But instead, you drop down to your knees. Right there in front of him. And before you know it, your hands are reaching for him. Stupid, traitorous things.

“Stop,” you whisper. “Please, stop.”

But he doesn’t.

Of course he doesn’t.

Because he’s Hyuck. And Hyuck never knows when to shut up.

“I know I ruined it,” he’s saying. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I wouldn’t forgive me either. I wouldn’t. But I can’t stop loving you. I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried so hard. I’ve kissed girls who weren’t you and I’ve gone home wanting to claw off my own skin.”

You suck in a breath.

“You don’t have to forgive me now. Or ever. Just let me prove it. Let me try. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you for fucking ever, I swear—”

You’re kissing him. 

You have no idea why, but it just feels like you have to. Because you physically can’t not. Because the love of your life, him, is bleeding out in front of you and you’re the only one who knows how to stop it.

And when your mouth crahses into his, it tastes like heartbreak and history and every stupid, selfish thing he’s ever done. But you keep kissing him. Because just as much as it hurts—it feels like home. Like you’ve finally been returned to the place you belong. Like his lips have been waiting for yours all this time. 

He’s kissing you back just as fiercely. Like he might die if he doesn’t. And maybe he would. Maybe you would too.

You don’t know who moves first. You think it’s you, but maybe it’s him. You’re both equally desperate—lunging backward until his back knocks against the foot of your bedframe and you’re straddling his hips. 

His hands find your waist, landing heavy and possessive around you. But you don’t mind, because your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him groan into your mouth—and God, you missed that sound. Missed him like oxygen.

His mouth moves to your neck, lips skimming every slither of skin he can reach, greedily not wanting to miss a single piece of you since he’s trying to make up for all the parts he used to take for granted. And you tilt your head back, giving him that access, because you’ve never been able to deny him anything.

“Tell me you’re still mine,” he breathes against your skin, half-choked.

You should tell him no. Should tell him he doesn’t get to ask things like that—not when he gave himself away so easily. Not now when he’ll never solely be yours like you’re solely his. 

But your heart is so tired and so in love it’s ridiculous, so instead you whisper: “I never stopped being yours.”

And then he’s kissing you again—deeper, this time. Until he pulls away and his forehead presses to yours, and he pants against your lips. “Let me love you,” he begs. “Please. Let me love you right this time.”

He feels solid beneath you. It’s making your brain fuzzy. It’s making you whimper.

“Okay,” you pant, tugging harder at those soft brown strands, as your hips shift and grind down against him, making him groan lowly. 

His hands clamp tighter around your waist, dragging you down harder, closer, like he’s trying to fuse you to him. And suddenly your skin feels too tight. You’re too aware of the clothes between you—what little there is.

Because you didn’t put on pants. Just that hoodie of his over your pathetic pair of black panties—thin, useless fabric—and now your pussy is rubbing right up against the thick outline of him through his jeans, and it’s overwhelming. You can feel absolutely everything you’ve missed.

Heat blooms in your stomach and you roll your hips again. It’s so shameless. So needy. But you don’t care. Not when it’s been this long. Not when it’s his fault it’s been this long—because you never would’ve let it be anyone else.

And he meets you in it. Each grind matched with one of his own, more harsh than the last. Until his hips are moving on impulse, chasing you like a man starved. His head drops to your shoulder, and his breath stutters. 

“Fuck, angel, slow down,” he chokes, “You’re killing me.”

You press your lips to his temple, to his jaw, anywhere you can reach, and whisper, breathless, “You deserve it.”

He groans—louder this time—like he agrees.

His hands slide beneath your hoodie, fingers splayed wide, dragging up the warm skin of your back like he’s relearning it. 

“I can’t believe this is happening again,” he breathes into your neck. “You can’t be real.”

But you are. You’re right here. Straddling him. Shaking for him. Letting him touch you like he never stopped having the right to.

He kisses your collarbone. Then lower—your sternum, the tops of your breasts, the edge of lace peeking from beneath his hoodie. His hoodie. That fact alone seems to snap something inside him.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and then he’s pushing the fabric up and up and up, until it pools around your ribs and the cold air hits your bare stomach. You shiver. 

“Take it off,” he murmurs. “Please. Want to see you.”

You raise your arms, let him peel it over your head, and suddenly you’re half-naked in his lap—wearing nothing but that black set you wanted him to rip off, then didn’t, then did… and now, he is. Fingers working at the clasp, slipping the straps from your shoulders and tossing the bra aside in your room somewhere.

And then, he takes his time letting his eyes drag over you. Taking a sick pride in seeing his initial rest in the valley of your breast. 

“Jesus,” he whispers. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

And something about that word—still—makes your stomach twist.

Your arms fold over your boobs on instinct, shielding yourself from the one person you’ve always felt safest with. Because still means there’s someone else now. Someone he’s looked at. Someone he’s touched. Someone you had to beat—and somehow did.

But you shouldn’t have had to.

He notices the shift immediately—how your arms cross, how your body goes stiff, how the room, warm just a second ago, chills.

“Hey. Hey,” he says, brows furrowing. He cups your face, thumbs brushing just beneath your eyes. “Talk to me, angel. What’s wrong? What happened?”

You’re still straddling him, half-naked, kissed raw and dizzy, and yet you feel like you’re a million miles away. You try to speak, to explain, but the words choke you. How do you tell him something he’s never known? How do you make him understand? You’ve never done this to him before—and just knowing how much it hurts—you don’t think you ever could.

“I just—” your voice cracks. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

He flinches—just enough for you to know it landed. But he doesn’t pull away.

The thing is, he doesn’t say her name. Doesn’t even mention her. Never has. But she’s here. Right here. In this room. Your room. In the silence. In his presence.

He shakes his head like he’s trying to wipe the thought away. “No. No, don’t do that. Don’t think about her. This—” his hands cup your face tighter, gently desperate, “—this is you and me. Always you.”

Your jaw clenches, your eyes sting. “Then why wasn’t it only me?”

He swallows hard, his gaze dropping to your lips before flickering away. He doesn’t answer—of course he doesn’t. He never does. And that’s been half the war between you. He doesn’t want to tell you the why.

Instead, his hands drift from your face to your waist, pulling you in like proximity might somehow make up for his silence. Like touch could smother your insecurities. 

His breath ghosts over your skin as he leans in.“Forget her. Just for now. Right here, right now, it’s only you. Only us.”

You hate that you melt. Hate that the ache in your chest loosens its grip the second his hands coax your arms from where you’d folded them. Hate that even after everything, he still knows how to make you feel safe inside the wreckage he caused.

He’s infuriating.

“Let me show you,” he whispers. “That it’s always only been you for me.”

His hands skim up your sides, thumbs brushing delicately beneath your tits. His eyes never leave yours—not for a second—as he kneads and explores and feels your body in his palm. And then his mouth follows.

Lips warm, slightly chapped, close around your right nipple. Your breath punches out of you. You can’t help it because his tongue flicks once, then again, then again until your spine arches and pushes the bud further into his mouth.

“Hyuck,” you moan, helpless, feeling the curve of his smirk drag against your skin.

His free hand trails up your other side, rolling the neglected peak between calloused fingers so deliciously because he remembers exactly what used to make you fall apart, and now he’s hell-bent on proving he hasn’t forgotten.

“God, you’re fucking unreal,” he murmurs against your skin, then bites gently, just enough to make you gasp. 

His words make you ache. Everywhere. Especially between your legs, where you’re still pressed tight against the thick, unrelenting shape of him through his jeans. And he hasn’t even touched you there yet, but it’s coming—you know it is. 

His mouth keeps going, warm and wet whilst he stays sucking just hard enough to turn your bones to water. And whenever you whimper he groans. 

“Please, Hyuck,” you plead. “Need more.”

He lifts his head, murmuring, “Yeah? You want me to show you how much I missed you?”

You nod, dizzy. 

“Fuck,” he groans and wastes no time lifting you off the floor like it’s nothing, carrying you to your bed. He lays you down gently, spreads you out beneath him like something precious. And then he peels off his t-shirt.

That tan skin—scattered with moles you’ve memorised, counted, traced with your fingers and your mouth—is on full display, just for you.

“I’ll give you everything,” he says, voice low as he drops to his knees, crawling between your legs. “Absolutely everything. As long as you don’t regret this. Don’t regret me.”

Your fingers sink into his hair before you can think. “I won’t,” you whisper. “Couldn’t.”

And then he dips down.

His mouth finds the inside of your thigh, open-mouthed kisses dragging tantalisingly up your skin. He’s not rushing. He never does when he gives head. It’s his favourite thing to savour. You. On his tongue.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs, nipping at your skin, making you gasp. “How many times I’ve had to stop myself from texting. From begging you to take me back.”

“Who said anything about taking you back?” You say, hips shifting, dying for friction, but he pins them with strong hands, keeping you right where he wants you. 

“I did,” he says, a smirk ghosting over his lips. “Am I wrong, Y/N? Because if I am, we can stop right now?”

“No,” you whine on a trembling breath.

He smiles. “I didn’t think so.”

Then, finally, finally—his mouth finds the place you need him most.

He licks a slow stripe up your center, groaning from the taste of you in his mouth. He does it again, and then again, until your legs are trembling and one of your hands fists the sheets, the other tangled in his hair, pulling and tugging at it, just how he likes. Just how you like.

He flicks his tongue, circles it, moans when you cry out for more.

“God, you taste the same,” he says hoarsely. “Still fucking perfect.”

You try to respond, to say something, but then he sucks again, so hard, you almost shoot clean off the bed.

“Hyuck—please,” it’s half a sob, a half moan, one hundered percent completley ruined.

He growls, arms locking around your thighs to keep you still, mouth relentless as he licks and sucks and worships like this is his penance.

“Shit, Y/N,” he mutters between licks, “I missed how fucking responsive you are. Always so good for me.”

You whimper. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“Not gonna,” he promises. “Not until you fall apart for me. Right here. Right now.”

He hums, the vibration making your stomach flutter, and you swear your heart forgets how to beat.

“Let me make you come,” he says, voice completely ruined now too. “Wanna feel you fall apart on my mouth. Please.”

And you do. You let him. Because you want this. Want him. Still. Always.

Your entire body coils, legs shaking, hands clawing at the sheets as your orgasm crashes through you. It’s shattering, making you cry out, his name falling from your lips repeatedly. 

Hyuck doesn’t stop. Not until your body finally slumps back to the mattress, boneless and trembling. Only then does he lift his head, lips wet and shiny. He crawls up your body, kissing your thigh, your stomach, the underside of your boobs, your jaw. Everywhere. Until he’s hovering over you, and you’re staring up at him, glassy-eyed and overwhelmed.

“You okay?” he whispers, brushing hair gently back from your face.

You nod, breath catching. “Yeah. I just... I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I never really left,” he says. “Even though I know I should have. I’m too damn selfish.”

Your throat tightens. You reach up, tracing his jaw with shaking fingers. “I want you to fuck me, Hyuck.”

He blinks, then his eyes darken. “You’re sure?”

You pull him down until your foreheads press again and then whisper a soft, “Yes.”

Then he kisses you. Slowly. Passionately in a way you know this about to be more than just fucking. It feels like the before. The soft. His hands coming up to your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. Everything so tender and full of love. 

And somewhere between the kiss and the forgetting, his pants are off. His boxers too. He’s about to fuck you completely raw—like he used to—and for a moment, your body almost lets him. Because it remembers. The blind trust. 

But this isn’t then. And that’s why you reach out, fingers curling gently around his forearm. Stopping him.

“Condom,” you whisper, cheeks flushing as you glance toward the nightstand.

Because it shouldn’t have to be like this. Back then, you were on the pill. You were his. He was yours. There was no one else. But now? Now you’ve had to share him—with her. Maybe with others too. 

He freezes. And for a second, you swear he looks gutted. But then he nods.

Wordlessly, he reaches into your nightstand, gets one open and rolls it on his cock. He doesn’t protest. He never would. Because it’s not the condom that guts him—it’s what it means. It’s that reminder that everything’s different now. And why. A barrier he put there himself because he was reckless, drunk, stupid and ungrateful. A consequence he crafted with his own hands.

But he doesn’t let that thought linger too long. The past is the past—he hates thinking about it. It’s what wrecked him. What wrecked this. What wrecked you.

Now, all he wants is the present. Not even the future. Just this. Just you. Because you’re here. Beneath him. Asking him to fuck you. You’re his—if only for now. And that’s enough.

He slides back over you. And for a second—just one—you both just… look.

You’re looking at him like maybe this could fix it. He’s looking at you like he knows it won’t. Sex doesn’t fix anything. It’s what broke you two in the first place if you really think about it . But he’s still doing it. And so are you.

He pushes inside of you slowly and your breath stutters, nails digging crescent moons into his biceps.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, voice tight and thick. “You feel like—”

“Home,” you whisper, beating him to it.

Because you do. And he does. And it’s pathetic. And perfect. And completely going to destroy you in the morning.

His forehead drops to yours and he lets out a shaky breath, like the kind that comes right before someone starts to cry. But he doesn’t cry—he moves. Gently. Tenderly. 

You cling to him, every nerve alight, oversensitive in that desperate, raw way that makes you breathless beneath him—letting him kiss you through it, through the pain, through the slow, aching stretch of him inside you. 

And in between those kisses and the thrusts and the way your fingers tangle in his hair again, he whispers:

“Missed you.”

“God, I missed you.”

“I’ll never stop being sorry.”

He fucks you like he’s trying to put you back together with every snap of his hips. And maybe he is.

So you let him.

You let him fuck you until you’re both a mess of moans and apologies and, fractured I love yous. Until you’re panting in time with each other. Until you’re cumming—together.

After, it’s quiet.

Not awkward or bitter or biting, but comfortable. You’re tangled in each other, limbs overlapping, as Hyuck brushes his nose against your temple. Eventually, he slips out of you, careful to not hurt you, but you flinch at the loss. He presses a kiss to your forehead, one to each cheek, and then he’s moving—disposing of the condom, finding his way back to your side. 

“Let’s shower,” he murmurs, thumb storoking your jaw. “Let me take care of you first. And after… we’ll talk, yeah?”

You don’t say anything—because you can’t. Your throat is raw from all the moaning and the whimpering. And also because you’re scared of the talking. Terrified, really. Of the hurting that’ll come with addressing it. 

So instead, you swallow and say softly, “I’ll be a minute. Just... need a sec before I move.”

He pauses, like he’s checking you over again, brows pinching. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Not in the way he means.

“No,” you whisper. “Just… been out of the game for a while.”

He pauses but doesn’t argue. Just leans in and presses the gentlest kiss to your cheek. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, brushing a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll start the shower.”

He slips out quietly, to the bathroom attached to your room. You hear the soft creak of the cabinets. He still remembers where everything is. 

And then—of course—his phone buzzes.

You glance over. You don’t mean to look. You really, really don’t. You know you shouldn’t if you wanna rebuild trust and whatever. It���s just…It’s on the floor, fallen from his jeans with the screen lighting up. 

It was taunting you. 

And anyway, he’s the one that broke your trust first. He’s the one that made you so paranoid. He’s the one who made you like this. 

Yeji

if i find out you went to that party tonight, hyuck, and didn’t tell her the truth, i will.

Your stomach drops straight through the mattress.

Another buzz.

Yeji

i’m serious. how long are you gonna keep it from her that it was lia you cheated on her with?

you’re ruining our friendship!

And suddenly you’re not warm anymore.

Suddenly you’re freezing. And hollow. And very, very awake and out of the afterglow sex haze. 

You can’t breathe.

You feel sick. 

Are you sick? Are you dying? Are you about to have a fucking panic attack?

Because it feels like something has clawed its way into your chest and is now eating you alive from the inside out.

Lia?

It all makes sense. It all echoes.

“That sweet boy we both used to love.”

“He’s not yours anymore.”

The door creaks again. Hyuck walks back in, towel slung low on his hips. Completely clueless. 

“You okay?” he asks, soft and smiling. “Shower’s warm.”

You don’t answer because your heart is hammering against your ribs and because you physically, viscerally, cannot breathe.

His smile falters, just a touch.

And then you say it.

One word. One name.

“Lia?”

You’re not even sure if you want to scream at him, or sob, or laugh—because how dare he. How dare he touch you like that, kiss you like that, look at you like that, when he knew—he fucking knew—he’d fucked your best friend and said nothing.

The same best friend who held you while you cried over him for a year. Who told you it wasn’t your fault. Who had her arms wrapped around you less than an hour ago trying to comfort you about him. 

You hold out his phone, pointing to the screen. “You fucked my best friend, Hyuck?”

He freezes. He lifts an arm reaching out towards you or towards his phone, you can’t tell. Probably the phone to see how much you know so he can spin it. Twist it. Try to manipulate this—manipulate you—again.

“Angel—”

“My name is Y/N.”

The words are a blade. His hand drops.

“Y/N,” he breathes, swallowing thickly, “it’s not what it looks like—”

But it is. You both know it. 

“Yeji seems to think it’s exactly what it sounds like.”

And then it hits you. All over again. Yeji knew. Your other best friend. She knew. 

Did everyone know? Everyone you loved? Everyone you trusted? Everyone you thought was safe? 

And suddenly your knees give out. You drop to the floor, spine hitting the edge of the bed on the way down, but you don’t even register the pain. You’re already somewhere else, hands trembling, vision blurry, gasping like there’s no oxygen. 

That fucking necklace around your neck—the one he gave you, the one you swore you'd never take off—isn’t fucking helping. So you rip it off. The chain snapping in your fist and you throw it. It lands at his feet. 

It’s the first time you’ve taken it off since you were sixteen.

“Y/N—”

Hyuck’s voice sounds panicked now. Hurting. He kneels in front of you, eyes wide, reaching for you—

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

You flinch so hard you nearly hit the nightstand. You can’t stand the idea of him touching you now, even though you know there isn’t a part of you he hasn’t touched.

He freezes. Arm stopping in the air. His face furrowed. And you know that face. The face from the night, the one carved from guilt and horror and regret—but it’s too late.

It’s so late.

You’re sobbing now. And it’s ugly—gasping and choking and curling up on the floor. 

“I—I didn’t mean for it to happen like that,” he whispers. “I never wanted to hurt you—”

You laugh. Actually laugh.

“You didn’t want to hurt me?” You shake your head, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, spit and snot and mascara streaking your face.  “Hyuck, you fucked my best friend. And then you came here, tonight, and touched me like…like I was still yours.”

“You are—”

“No. No, I’m not!” You snap. “I don’t even know who I am right now. But I definitely am not—and never will be—yours again.”

“Please, Y/N,” he whispers. “Let me explain. It wasn’t—”

“You’ve had time to explain.” Your voice trembles, but the words are steel. “I gave you so much of myself. So much trust. So much love.” You swallow hard. “But it wasn’t enough, was it? You needed to fuck my best friend. And keep it from me. And somehow rope the other one into it too, so now—”

Your voice cracks.

“So now I can’t trust anyone.”

He opens his mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to lie, maybe to beg. But then he doesn’t. He doesn’t say a word. He just looks at you, regret written in every line of his stupid, beautiful face.

He doesn’t deny it. And that’s the last straw. You fold in on yourself. Arms wrapping tight around your knees as you bury your head and whisper: “I need you to leave.”

He doesn’t move.

You look up—eyes glassy, voice so quiet and weak.

“Get out, Hyuck. Now, please”

And this time, he listens. And you’re glad he listens. Because this time it feels different. This was it. The final fracture. Whatever you had with him? It’s dead now. You just wish you hadn’t kept it on life support for so long—wish you hadn’t clung so tightly to something already bleeding. 

That thousandth cut finally bled dry.

[s0urw00lf]

Imagine Spencer and Hotch having to bail you out of jail

You actually couldn't believe this. You, an FBI agent, were just thrown in jail for defending yourself from a man grabbing your ass in a clothing shop of all places. 

You were minding your business, walking through the many aisles looking for clothes for spencer. He kept mentioning that he needs to get some new clothing items but wouldn't make time to do it himself, and thanks to hotch you had a small break from work thanks to an incident from the last case that left you injured.

Your eyes laid on a sweater that seemed like it called Spencer's name, it was grey and had little orange, green and red leaves scattered around. It wasn't something he'd wear for work, but he would love it for his off days. You smiled dropping the sweater into your cart when you felt something harshly grab your ass. Without thinking you whipped around punching the person in the face. Hard. 

He fell to the ground as you shook the pain out of your hand it’d seemed to be just your luck when a security guard approached you “ma’am please turn around and put your hands behind your head” he spoke. You looked at him with shock, had he not seen the man grab you. “What no i'm not gonna-“ he harshly grabbed your wrists turning you so he could grab your other one “what the hell is wrong with you” you seethed “he just assaulted me and im getting arrested?”

He began reciting you your rights, you scoffed cutting him off “fuck off i know my rights im an fbi agent.” You seethed. The man paused, “let me see some id” he said. You rolled your eyes incredulously “my hands are bound together sir, check in my bag” you sighed.

he went through your bag and you noticed the small smile on the man you’d punched face as he got up and ran. Not only was he arresting you wrongfully but he’d just let another suspect go, who the hell were they hiring in this place.

”ma’am there’s no id in here” he said. Your eyebrows winched together “wha- how is my id not-“ “you don't look old enough to be fbi anyway” he said hauling you out of the store, not paying any mind to the staring customers. 

At the police station they’d put you in the system and given you your one phone call. Of course you called hotch. The phone only rang briefly before you heard Hotch’s voice ring out “agent hotchner” he answered. 

You sighed “hotch its y/n i need help” you muttered awkwardly. “Y/n? Why are you in jail?” His voice showed a small sign of worry. 

“I was at the mall and some guy grabbed my… butt. So I punched him in the face and security saw, arrested me and let the other guy go. And they don’t believe im fbi, not that it should matter because it was self defense” you explained glaring at the cop who looked like she could care less. 

“They arrested you for self defense?” He asked, sounding like he was just making sure he heard what he thought he heard, you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you “yeah and the guy got away.” 

“Where were you, what store?” He asked, “uh im not sure I wasn’t really paying attention.” You answered. There was a shuffling on the other end before hotch spoke again “i'll be there in fifteen minutes, and i cant promise Spencer wont tag along either” he said warning you. You chuckled the smallest bit “I wouldn't expect him not to”

hotch hung up after that and exited his office where the rest of the team sat talking “y/n’s been arrested” he said, catching the team's attention. Spencer immediately stood up “what why?”

Hotch explained to the team what you told him over the phone and that he was on his way over to get you out, Spencer made it known that he was coming with him. Before he and Spencer set off he set off he told the rest of the team to find out who the guy was. 

When hotch and Spencer arrived you’d already been put in a cell, thank god you hadn’t had to put on the orange suit yet. 

“Your interfering with a police investigation.” The lady spoke to hotch. “I understand but you have an FBI agent wrongfully detained” Hotch said in his usual calm manner. 

“Sir with all due-“ “agent l/n was assaulted in public, not only did you fail to make sure you made the correct arrest, you let the other person involved go. So that makes this an open case until we find that man, which also means she’s free to go, unless you’d like to hold her for 48 hours which I highly advise against” hotch said, giving the shower woman a glare. 

Spencer stood behind him fidgeting nervously, hotch told him to let him take the lead much to Spencer’s dismay but he knew hotch was right and he’d probably turn the police station upside down if he was the one you’d called. 

The lady looked between the two tall, intimidating agents and sighed. “Follow me” she said, walking towards where they kept un-processed prisoners. 

When Spencer’s eyes finally set on you he rushed passed hotch and the officer “y/n” he called catching your attention you looked up and saw him come into view “Spencer, you came, thank god” you stood up walking to the barred entrance. “Of course I did” he said. 

The cop pulled out her keys with a sigh “lucky day agent. You're free to go” she unlocked the cell door and Spencer pulled you into his arms “your okay he didn't hurt you?” He asked, pulling away to inspect you. “I think he ran away with more bruises than me,” you joked. Neither hotch nor Spencer found your joke funny. 

You coughed awkwardly turning to hotch “thanks for coming” you gave him a bashful smile. Hotch gave you a rare smile in return “of course” he said. Spencer grabbed your hand “we should get back to the bau and see if they came up with anything. Do you want me to take you home?” He asked you. 

You shook your head “no i was groped not shot i can handle going in” you answered. Hotch gave you a look and you weren’t sure what it meant, you just knew it was a warning. 

When you all arrived back at the bau you were completely surrounded by your team bombarding you with hugs and questions ‘are you okay’ ‘did he hurt you’ ‘I’m gonna nail this bastard when i get a hit’ you smiled at their worry, feeling grateful you were surrounded by people who cared as much as they did.

 “guys i'm okay, i just want to find this guy, there’s no telling how many other women he's done this to” you said. 

Emily stepped forward “i'm glad you said that, i got this just before you came in but they’ve got a description of the man, that shopping center seems to be a hotspot for him”

Hotch nodded, “Garcia, what do you have?” 

“Sir i got the security footage but I wasn’t able to nail him because his back was towards the camera so I’m going through all of the mall's security cameras to see if we can find him” Garcia rambled her colorful pen wailing around with her hand. 

“Okay let's get to work” hotch says and the group dissipated back to their respective seats to show.

It wasn't long before Garcia had the man's name and address, hotch, Rossi and Derek insisted on you staying at the bau while they went to make the arrest, much to your dismay but you probably would’ve hit him again for causing you to have a shitty day.

After everything was said and done, hotch sent you and Spencer home and Spencer was being way more clingy than usual. “You okay?” You asked him as he laid his head on the nape of your neck. He nodded “yeah, i was just so worried when hotch told me you got arrested. I thought something bad happened”  his breath fanned over your chest. You smiled, “Spence, I'm okay, I promise.” You whispered softly. He lifted his head from your neck showing his gentle hazel eyes “i wish i was there to protect you” he pouted

you tilted your head “Spence this isn’t your fault, if you were there he probably wouldn’t have done it anyway. Saved a lot of women from it happening to them because you weren’t there” you caressed his face. He leaned into your hand “but you shouldn’t have had to” 

you nodded “no, but that’s what we're here for right?” You asked. He begrudgingly nodded “and we protect the people who cant protect themselves, even if it comes with a price. I’m okay Spencer i swear” you said pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He smiled when you pulled away “I should be the one comforting you, you know?” He joked, making you laugh a little.

 “Comfort me by holding me” you said and he wasted no time bringing you into his arms. The two of you sat like that until you fell asleep and Spencer still sat awake imagining what he would’ve done to protect you. It definitely wouldn’t have been legal.

AN: Thank you @cheriesbucky for letting me use your idea i hope you like it

[maskedbyghost]

Possessive reader has had partners before Simon, yeah? Don't suppose any of them are the same flavor of 'mine mine mine' regarding her? Cuz if so, Simon's gonna need to clean up those loose ends. Can't have them thinking they can try and object at the inevitable wedding like some kind of Hallmark movie!

Omg YES. The reader definitely has an ex or two still a little hung up on her, because let’s be honest, someone that obsessed, that intense, that ride-or-die? She’s not exactly forgettable.

You didn’t even react when the text came in. You barely glanced at your phone, just rolled your eyes, and went right back to folding laundry like it wasn’t worth your energy.

But Simon saw it. You knew he saw it because he stopped what he was doing, leaned over, and picked your phone up off the bed without even asking.

“Who’s that?” he asked, even though he was already reading it.

You shrugged. “Some guy I used to fuck around with before I met you. He’s been blocked since last year, so I guess he found a new number.”

Simon didn’t answer. Just stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the message.

You still with that guy? You deserve someone who actually sees how good you are. You know where to find me.

You didn’t even try to explain. What was there to say? You’d deleted that man like an app you forgot existed. Gone. Done. But Simon wasn’t looking at you—he was still staring at your phone, his jaw tight.

You sat back on your knees, watching him. “Don’t get quiet. You know I don’t give a shit about him.”

“I know,” he muttered, his tone calm. “But he doesn’t.”

That’s when he tapped a few things. Deleted the message, blocked the number again. Same way you would have. Except he held your phone for another minute after that, just looking at it. Not saying a word.

Then he handed it back and stood up like nothing happened. “I’ll take the trash out,” he said, heading toward the kitchen. Which was weird, because there was no trash. Not in the actual bin, anyway.

You tilted your head. “You mean metaphorically or—?”

“Both,” he called back.

And that was that. You didn’t ask, you didn’t need to.

You knew Simon wouldn’t do anything stupid, but you also knew he had a way of handling shit when it pissed him off enough. Not like you—loud, mouthy, dramatic, always saying shit like mine mine mine until he groans and tells you you’re a menace while literally pulling you closer.

But him? He didn’t need to scream. Didn’t need to threaten. All he had to do was decide something—and then it was done.

Still, later that night, you were sprawled across his lap, phone in hand, scrolling for something to watch, when you decided to poke the bear a little.

“Y’know,” you said casually, “if some idiot tried to object at our wedding, I’d probably laugh in his face and then throw my shoe at him.”

Simon didn’t even look up from where he was rubbing slow circles into your hip. “Wouldn’t get the chance.”

You smirked. “Why? ‘Cause you’d handle it?”

“No,” he said, finally glancing up at you. “Because anyone that stupid won’t make it to the wedding.”

You stared at him for a second.

Then you leaned in real close, grinning like the psycho you are. “God, I fucking love you.”

He kissed you hard, like he was trying to remind you he was just as gone for you as you were for him.

“Yeah?” he muttered, breath hot against your lips. “Then quit stressin’ about shit that’s already handled.”

And you did. Because you knew—anyone who still thought they had a shot with you? They didn’t anymore. Simon made sure of that.

Not because he was jealous. But because you were his just as loudly and unshakably as he was yours. And anyone who didn’t get the memo?

They’d be lucky to walk away with a warning.

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

this was the last request i had sitting in my inbox for these two, so if y’all want more unhinged possessive nonsense, you’re gonna have to ask, i’m always down to write more of them, just need ideas to work with. you know where to find me <333

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs

[hotchner-edu]

Pandora's Box | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: During a girl's night with the BAU girlies, a game of truth or dare may just be the cause of Aaron's odd behavior.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!F!Reader

Warnings: mentions of the devil's tango

The smell of freshly microwaved popcorn and cheeto puffs clung to the air of Penelope's apartment unit, the ringing of near-delirious laughter complementing the scent.

Emily is laying flat on the floor by Penelope's sofa, hair splayed out as she clutches her stomach. "Oh my god! You did not do that!" She laughs out, tears gathering in her eyes as JJ blushes a little and shrugs.

You four are gathered in the living room, fingers stained from snacking while playing the team's favorite party game— truth or dare. It was the night of the long-awaited girl's night, and you were all practically bouncing off the walls.

"It's not my fault! Anyway!" JJ chuckles and tries to change the topic, turning her head toward you, eyes glimmering in mischief. "Y/N, truth or dare?"

You groan and shovel some popcorn into your mouth. "Truth."

Penelope and Emily giggle in the background, knowing JJ always had some hard hitters when it came to truth or dare.

JJ grins widely and leans forward a bit. "Who in the team would you do seven minutes in heaven with?"

You let out an outraged gasp. "Jennifer Jareau! What are we? In high school?"

The blonde just laughs loudly and grins. "Oh come on! You only hate the question because you're the one that has to answer."

"Exactly." You deadpan jokingly and groan, preparing to answer when Emily interjects.

"And you can't say any of us!"

Frowning, you narrow your eyes at the woman. "Well, I was going to say you."

Emily smirks cheekily and slides her phone toward herself as she sits up, finally recovering from her laughing fit earlier. "I know, but that's cheating."

Huffing, you watch her throw her phone aside somewhere as they all stare at you eagerly. "Geez... okay, fine! Hotch! I'd do seven minutes in heaven with him." You practically shout in faux exasperation.

Penelope squeals and shakes your shoulders as JJ and Emily raise their eyebrows.

"Really?" Emily asks in shock, chuckling and leaning back on her arms.

"Well, yeah. I mean... hello. Are we all going to pretend he's not sexy?" You ask bluntly, inciting another round of squeals from Penelope as she gets ready to endlessly tease you about your admission.

JJ shrugs with a satisfied smile, pleased that you chose to answer so boldly. "Honestly, I thought you'd say Spence."

"Spencer is cute and I love him, but... c'mon. Like I have to restrain myself from slamming my head into my desk every time Hotch raises his voice at someone. And god! Don't get me started on his arms." You gush, playing up your lovestruck tone but being completely honest.

"Easy tiger." JJ mumbles under her breath with an amused smile.

Emily wiggles her eyebrows and grins. "Oh? Come on, don't skimp on the details."

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. "You guys are vultures." You say jokingly and throw a piece of popcorn at her.

Penelope munches on a cheeto and shakes her head. "No, no! You never told us you felt this way for him, so we need answers!"

You concede, feeling tired of bottling up your crush anyway. "Alright, alright. Yes, I like him. I mean, it's hard not to." You explain sincerely before becoming playful again, "I think he covered me from an explosion once and I almost died feeling his hands on my waist. Like, how is it possible for someone to have such delicious arms."

"Delicious?" Emily echoes with an amused snort at your choice of adjective.

JJ snickers and nudges your foot with hers. "Careful, you're about to start drooling."

You nudge your foot back against hers and try to suppress the heat that's creeping up your neck. Unfortunately for you, Penelope is just getting warmed up.

"So, would you... y'know... do the devil's dance with him?" Penelope asks coyly, giving you a teasing smile.

"Hey, my turn is over now!" You say and chuckle, shaking your head at their antics.

Though, you should have known that they wouldn't let you get away that easily.

The three of them stare at you with puppy eyes, causing you to squirm on the spot. "Geez, yes, I would. I mean, he seems like he could use the stress relief." You joke before quickly adding, "And I'm only telling you guys because you guys look ridiculous with those expressions!"

"Ridiculous or not, it worked." Emily smirks victoriously.

Luckily, they seem to take pity on you after grilling you so hard, and they move on with the game.

The next morning, you're starting to regret having stayed up with the girls until three in the morning. Your eyes feel like they're being pressed down by bowling balls as you yawn for the fifth time in ten minutes.

Emily is in a similar state as you, head lazily propped on one hand as she sluggishly signs off on some reports in front of her.

“Let’s never do that again.” You grumble just loud enough for Emily to hear, rubbing your eyes.

She chuckles under her breath and nods a bit in agreement, eyebrows raising a bit. “Yeah, or let’s just get drunk and pass out like normal people.” She jokes.

You both snicker softly until you see JJ hurrying toward Hotch’s office with a stack of files in her arms. “Ah…” you say with a slow blink.

“3… 2… 1…” Emily counts down playfully, just as Aaron stands up and leaves his office.

“BAU team— conference room, now.” He calls out smoothly, his eyes catching yours for the briefest second before he’s practically marching off.

You stand up and stretch your arms, watching as your team starts heading over for a new case briefing.

Glancing back toward Emily, you frown tiredly. "How is JJ so peppy today?"

"Perks of motherhood?" Emily suggests and shrugs.

You and her slowly trudge toward the stairs, catching up with Derek who seemed a bit hungover.

The man pauses and glances between you and Emily, grinning playfully. “You both look like hell. Fun night?”

“Not as fun as yours, I’m sure.” Emily chuckles as the three of you walk into the conference room. You’re about to head to your usual chair when you see Aaron sitting in the chair next to it.

You pause in your step and look back at Emily. Of course, seats weren’t assigned, but there had always been an unspoken rhythm of the team occupying the same seats.

Tilting your head a little, you can see some of your team members momentarily questioning it, but shrug it off as they sit down.

“Huh…” Emily says under her breath and hides a smirk, tapping your lower back to usher you to sit down. Aaron had stolen her usual spot, but she didn’t seem all that perturbed by it.

You sink down into your chair, keenly aware of your proximity to his warm body as JJ hurries to the head of the table to turn on the monitor.

As she begins to summarize the details of the case and the descriptions of the victims, you’re only half listening. Aaron keeps subtly shifting in his spot, and his knee even bumps into yours a few times.

You would definitely need to reread the file on the jet.

Aaron speaks up as JJ concludes with the details, voice low and level. “The request is urgent, so wheels up in thirty.”

The team begins moving immediately, and as you’re closing the file in front of you, you feel Aaron’s hand land on the back of your chair as he gets up. You tense a little as you could feel how close his hand was to your shoulder, trying to suppress the heat crawling up your chest.

As everyone files out of the meeting room to go grab their go-bags, Emily is immediately joining your side as she speaks under her breath. "That was weird."

"It was nothing." You try to brush it off, ignoring Emily's uncertain look.

Well. Maybe it wasn't nothing.

The moment the team arrived at the New Haven precinct in Connecticut, the atmosphere was off, to say the least. Of course, it was never enjoyable to have to look at pictures of mutilated victims, or deal with officers acting independently, but the feeling you were getting was a bit ominous.

"Is it just me or does something feel different?" You whisper to JJ as she finishes up a phone call.

She looks at you and tilts her head a bit, eyes filled with concern. "Not really... why? Do you think something's off with the profile?"

You shake your head and look away sheepishly. "No, not with the case. Just... with the team?" Your words come out as more of a question as you try to articulate the emotions swirling inside of you.

"Oh. I haven't noticed anything, but we can talk when we get back to the hotel if you want?" She offers with a kind smile.

"Yeah. Thanks, Jaje..." You say softly and try to redirect your focus back onto the case.

Stepping back, you get ready to return back to discuss the unsub's possible hideout locations with Spencer.

Before you can get far, you hear JJ calling for you again. "Could you tell Hotch that the city's agreed to hold a press conference in two hours?" JJ speaks up, eyes telling you that she had a lot on her plate at the moment.

"No problem. I'll see you in a bit." You nod at her and smile before spinning on your heel to look around for Aaron.

You spot him almost immediately, hunched over a desk and flipping through some papers as the police chief hurries away from him, barking out orders to some of the officers scattered around their desks.

"Hotch. JJ said that a press conference will be held in two hours. Spencer and I have narrowed down some locations, so we'll need to work quick." You practically word vomit, trying to ignore your racing heart.

Aaron straightens up and turns to look at you. "Alright, good. Rossi and Prentiss are on their way back too." He says, reaching back to the desk for his cup of coffee, still steaming as he raises it up to his face.

Your eyebrows rise up a bit and you smile softly. "Another cup? That's like your fourth one today."

The man gives you a small smile and nods, letting himself relax a bit. "Yeah, just for some stress relief." Despite how casual his tone was, the inflection of his voice for the very last words has you freezing on the spot.

You choke on your spit a bit, and he keeps his eyes on you. "Are you alright?" He draws out, mouth twisted in concern, but his eyes swirling with a bit of humor.

"Perfect." You wheeze out a bit and give him a strained smile before hurrying away.

Fortunately, you're not forced to overthink his words and the flashbacks of your girl's night confession to go with it, as the unsub makes a critical slip-up after JJ's press conference is broadcasted.

It's only after the unsub is being transported away for booking that you're able to come back down from the adrenaline. You're sitting beside Emily on the curb stretching your tired legs as she scrolls through her phone.

"So he really hasn't called you back? What an asshole." You mumble with a frown as she updates you about the guy she's been going on dates with for the past month.

"Back to the drawing board, I guess." She sighs with a noncommittal smile. Suddenly, you see her tense up, face drawn into a disbelieving gape as she pauses in her scrolling. "Oh my god."

"What? What's wrong?" You ask and turn to face her in worry.

"I called Hotch." She says blankly, slowly looking up at you with shell-shocked eyes.

"Okay...?" You trail off in confusion, eyebrows knit together.

"On Sunday. It says here that I called Hotch." She shows you her phone screen and there at the third slot of the call log is Aaron's contact. It wouldn't have been alarming to you had you and the girls not been together for the entirety of Sunday, but you all were, plus the call history was timed to have occurred at eleven pm.

"No way... check how long the call was." You whisper hurriedly, watching as she hurries to press the information button, nearly calling Aaron on accident in the process.

"Three minutes..." She breathes out in shock.

"No way..." You lean back and slap a hand over your mouth. "I think he heard my confession about him."

"What?" Emily hisses at you in panic, looking around at your teammates who were scattered around the sea of haphazardly parked Buicks.

You nod and rub your temples. "Earlier at the station, he made a comment about needing a stress relief."

"Okay, but that could mean nothing." Emily tries to reassure you, sputtering a little as she tries to come up with alternative explanations.

"I don't think so, Em." You groan and lean your head against her shoulder. "We've both noticed he's been acting different."

"Oh gosh... Did I butt-dial him?" She asks in shock to no one in particularly, laying her head against yours.

Chuckling dryly, you suddenly remember how she had been tossing her phone around during the game. "Yeah... I think it's even worse because I was sober when I said it."

"If it makes you feel better, I've done far more embarrassing things while sober." She says, staring off into the distance.

"I believe that." A small huff leaves you, tone subdued as a small smile of acceptance takes shape on your face. "Oh, and Em?"

"Hm?"

Your eyes flicker to Hotch's figure in the distance as he chats with Derek, arms crossed across his chest. "If I give you my resignation letter, will you give it to Hotch for me? I think I'm going to flee the country."

Much to your chagrin, Emily bands together with Spencer to convince you to not resign, having the younger agent ramble on about the adjustment process of finding a new job and the statistics of people who struggle with getting acclimated to a new work environment.

So rather than slipping your neatly packaged resignation letter onto Hotch's desk, you've taken to hiding out in Penelope's lair while you finish up your paperwork for the case.

Luckily, your bright-eyed friend allows you to pull up a chair at her desk, not even making a peep when you accidentally knock over one of her figurines.

You're hunched over as you write hurriedly, posture taking on a form that would make shrimps envious. As you're finishing up the last few pages of the report, a knock on Penelope's ajar office door draws both of your attention.

Standing with a hand on the door handle, Aaron is gazing at you with his eyes squinted a little due to the dimness of the room. "Y/N, can I speak to you for a moment, please?"

His voice is calm, giving no hints as to what he's feeling as he cracks open the door a bit more. Penelope gives you a side glance before slowly swiveling her chair back around to pretend to work.

"Sure." You say almost inaudibly, awkwardly making your way out of the door as his eyes follow you.

Once you're both out in the hallway, he shuts the door and nods for you to walk a few paces forward to minimize the chances of your lovable tech genius eavesdropping.

"I'm almost finished with my report, sir." You say softly, stopping when you both arrive at the end of the corridor.

Aaron lets out a breathy chuckle and shakes his head. "That's not what I'm here to talk to you about."

Mutely nodding, you wait for him to continue as your eyes move down to stare at the glossy floor.

"I'm sure you know by now, but Prentiss accidentally called me this weekend while you guys were talking." He says softly, beginning to look a bit shy. "And I just wanted to ask if you had meant what you said that night."

Your face is blistering with warmth as you try to deduce the best course of action. "I... yes. I'm sorry. I know that it must have been weird to hear, especially because I'm your coworker. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Aaron rests a hand on your arm to stop you before you can offer to resign out of shame, a warm smile painting his face. "It's okay. It wasn't weird for me... I just wish I didn't have to find out from a butt-dial." He chuckles and rests his hand on your arm.

You practically melt at the touch and you blink in shock. "Oh..."

"Honestly, I'm a bit out of practice when it comes to this kind of thing, but I was wondering if I could take you to dinner this Saturday." He asks softly, looking shyer than you've ever seen him before.

"I would like that." You respond breathlessly, not sure if you were dreaming.

Aaron grins and looks down at his shoes for a second as he tries to compose himself. "I'll pick you up around seven, if that works for you?"

"Yeah, that's perfect." Whatever future plans you had for Saturday were automatically being scrapped anyway.

"Great." He nods and gazes at you, his hand moving from your arm to your hand. He gives your fingers a small squeeze before he steps back and allows you to get back to work in Penelope's lair.

As you're trekking down the hall with a giddy smile, you hear him calling your name. You turn around and see him smirking at you a bit.

"And just so you know, I like having my arms around you too."

[vamptizm]

SNOOZE — p. bueckers ix.

pairing: paige bueckers x soraya mensima (oc)

synopsis: rookie paige bueckers enters the league with confidence, charm, and a bad habit of gravitating toward things she shouldn’t want— like soraya mensima, the wings’ respected star and reluctant heartbreaker. soraya’s been here longer, knows better, and refuses to let lines blur... even as paige keeps rewriting them with every smile.

warnings: fluff? sprinkles of domestic shit. sexual content/smut. idk what else.

word count: 7590

notes: live reactions and reblogs are more appreciated than just likes cuz i actually put my sweat and tears into this through a writing slump just for u guys

masterlist

♯┆taglist (open) .ᐟ ★ @brenwritesss @bueckersbitch @ekisokay @sierrale8ne @ohmybueckers @pboogerswbb @yailtsv @lilpaigeyherbo @prettygirl-gabi @mariahthealchemist @avvwritesstufff @vintagebueckers @naeswrrldd @thaatdigitaldiary

The morning came way too slow for Paige.

She’d barely slept. Just tossed and turned in her hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every second of last night on an endless loop. She could still feel Soraya’s lips on hers. Still taste her, like it was haunting her. The faint scent of her shampoo, that warm and expensive perfume she wore lingering in the air between them, and the way Soraya’s skin had felt under her fingertips. The way her breath had hitched when Paige’s hands roamed her body.

Everything about Soraya pulled her in like gravity and the more she pushed her away, the harder Paige wanted to close the distance.

By the time they’d gathered in the lobby to check out, Paige was running on little sleep. The moment she saw Soraya step out of the elevator, something tightened low in her stomach.

Their eyes met, just briefly at first. Then again and again. Sometimes one of them broke it quickly, other times their gazes held longer than they probably should have.

Soraya’s stomach twisted with slight wariness. Had anyone noticed? Had any of their teammates somehow seen the way she had barely pulled Paige inside her hotel room doorway the night before? Had they seen thr way she had kissed Paige like she’d been starving for it? She doubted it. Or at least she hoped so.

She wasn’t ready for curious glances, or whispered questions, or judgment that she knew was just in her head. Not from teammates she barely even knew yet and not when she wasn’t even sure how to explain it to herself. Soraya had no idea what she was even doing.

By the time they loaded onto the bus, Soraya walked past Paige with a glance so subtle it could have been missed entirely. Her face was unreadable as she slipped into a seat beside Maddy, who was already sitting quietly near the back of the bus. Maddy had always been calm, steady and constant, not loud and energetic like some of their other teammates. She wasn’t intrusive, just easy and Soraya appreciated that. They’d entered this league together, fresh meat in a highly competitive world, navigating it side by side. That kind of natural bond didn’t need constant conversation to uphold.

Paige sat two rows ahead of them. She couldn’t resist the urge. As the bus doors shut close and the vehicle rolled forward, she shifted slightly in her seat, looking over her shoulder just enough to steal a glance at the older girl.

Soraya was sitting there, bare faced and effortlessly beautiful in her dallas wings hoodie, plain grey sweats hiding her legs. The cool air of the Minnesotan morning hadn’t caught her off guard, she had dressed for it, knowing it’d be different from the dallas heat.

Paige’s throat dried. God, even like this—no makeup, no heels, no glimmering dress— she was still so fucking beautiful. But shr didn’t let herself stare for long. She turned her head back toward the window, the road and landscape blurring as the bus drove towards the airport.

Soraya, who was fully aware of the glance, had been looking down at her phone, feigning disinterest. But she’d felt the burn of those blue eyes on her. She always did.

At the airport, as Soraya stepped off the bus to grab her suitcase, Paige was faster. She pulled it out of the trunk before Soraya could even reach for it.

For a second, she hesitated. She almost kept it in her hand. Almost offered to carry it all the way through the airport, but thought better of it. It was too much and too obvious. The last thing she wanted was to make Soraya pull away again.

She held it out instead. “Here.”

Soraya took it with a small, polite smile. Barely noticeable, but there. And Paige felt stupidly proud of herself for earning it.

The walk through security went by quick. Charter flights meant no crowds, no chaos. One of the few perks they only recently gained.

When they boarded the plane, Soraya reached up to store her carry-on. Once again, Paige stepped in before she could. She stepped in smoothly, taking the bag from Soraya’s hands and pushing it up into place. As she did, her top lifted slightly, exposing a glimpse of her stomach and the v-line cutting down beneath her waistband.

Soraya’s eyes flicked there involuntarily, a quick glance she couldn’t stop in time.

And Paige had caught her. She turned her head with perfect timing, catching Soraya’s stare dead on. The corner of her mouth curved into a knowing smirk that made Soraya snap her gaze away almost immediately, pretending to adjust her hoodie.

They settled into their seats soon after, the plane eventually lifting into the sky. Soraya tried to focus on her phone, but her legs itched to move. After about half an hour, she finally unbuckled her belt and stood to stretch. It was more of an excuse than actual discomfort, if she was being honest.

But instead of returning to her seat, she casually dropped into the empty spot next to her rookie.

Paige glanced sideways at her, eyebrows raised just slightly. She didn’t say anything right away, just waited.

Soraya nodded toward the iPad resting on Paige’s lap, earbuds in her hand. “What are you watching?”

“Grey’s Anatomy,” Paige answered, still watching her like she was waiting for the catch.

Soraya nodded again, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp, almost teasing. “Never seen it. Is it good?”

Paige blinked. “Are you serious right now?”

Soraya tilted her head a little, meeting her gaze fully. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

The deadpan delivery nearly made Paige shiver. ‘God, she’s so hot when she does that.’ The stoic face, the steady eye contact—it was enough to knock the breath right out of her.

Paige let out a quiet breath, trying to ground herself. “Well. You’re watching it now.” She paused, before adding, “I’m rewatching season one, so you’re not missing much.”

Soraya surprised her by simply nodding. “Okay.”

That one word sent a tiny jolt through Paige’s chest. The blonde fought the urge to smile too wide. She hadn’t expected her to stay. Or to give in so easily. She tried not to let the surprise show, simply queued up the first episode instead of resuming where she left off. Somewhere in her mind, she wanted Soraya to have the full experience. She wanted to share something—even if it was just a stupid TV show—for as long as she was allowed to have her close.

For the next hour or so, they sat side by side, Paige softly explaining plot points whenever Soraya leaned in with a quiet question. Eventually, neither of them said much. The show played, the plane hummed quietly around them, and the world outside blurred into nothing.

At some point, Soraya’s head naturally fell against Paige’s shoulder. And not long after, Paige’s head rested lightly on top of hers.

They both drifted off like that. The shared earbuds connecting them, breaths slow and even, bodies leaning into each other.

Most of the team remained disinterested. Minding their own business, chatting softly or dozing off.

Except for Dijonai, Arike and NaLyssa. All three of them exchanged subtle looks from their own seats, silent but fully clocking the scene playing out in front of them.

Soraya Mensima loved to stir the pot.

Quite literally.

And, here she was, arm working in aggressive circular motions as she near to pounded the cassava and unripe plantain mixture into a firm paste.

Soraya couldn’t remember the last time she’d truly rested. The last time she’d gotten more than 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep. The last time she hadn’t had a nightmare or dreams that didn’t leave her feeling uneasy and uncomfortable after waking up.

Her head throbbed, her muscles ached and she could swear that her brain was starting to lag and fog. It was as if nothing made sense, but everything did make sense simultaneously.

But instead of lying down in bed next to her cat that was wholesomely purring for once—letting Soraya know how much she’d missed her the past couple days—she stood in front of her stove.

The scent of spices curled around the kitchen, warm and familiar. Almost comforting. She’d only attempted making ghanaian fufu once, and that was several years ago. By the time she’d finished, her arms ached and her stomach was growling so loud, her family could hear it from outside the kitchen.

It was one of those days, where your heart and soul ached for the past. Where nostalgia knocked at your door and you struggled to open the door for it. To invite it in and embrace it.

Growing up with an algerian mother, and a ghanaian father who passed away before Soraya could form a genuine bond with him, the girl had always felt like she’d been robbed of half of her. The other half of her identity, and not just in the form of a parent, but the culture as well.

Moving to the west had only intensified that feeling.

She never fully belonged anywhere—never fit in. Torn in half, it was as if no side truly claimed and embraced her. Always in the middle.

Though, she wore it with pride. Both of her identities. There wasn’t a time where Soraya Mensima wasn’t utterly proud of where she came from, how she was raised and how hard she’d worked to make it where she was today.

By the time Soraya was done, the kitchen was a mess.

Sticky pots and dirty pans in the sink, red sauce on the marble counter and splattered on the floor tiles from the wooden spoon falling a few times too many. Soraya couldn’t help but sigh as she lowered herself and got on her knees to wipe the ground with a wet kitchen towel. Sighed even louder while rinsing the dirty dishes and tossing them into her dishwasher.

Soraya ignored the way her head spun faster than she was used to, and the way her vision blurred for a few seconds too long. ‘I just need some cold water’ she told herself.

But as she moved towards the fridge and her knees buckled under her, she tightly curled her hand around the handle of her fridge, regaining balance. She blinked rapidly, but it only did little to restore her clear vision.

It wasn’t until Soraya fully sat on the cold floor, propping her upper half up with the flat of her palms and taking deep breaths, before she felt confident enough to lift herself up again.

Soraya shook it off the moment she was back onto her feet, pouring herself a cold cup of water with extra ice cubes, which she quickly chugged down.

She simply chalked it down to her hypothyroidism. It wasn’t the first time it decided to mess with her unannounced, throwing her off balance and bed-ridding her for the rest of the day. And it wouldn’t be the last, that’s something she was sure of.

A short while later as Soraya sat on her couch to restore her energy and coordination, she suddenly became painfully aware of the two big pots on top of her stove. Even more so, the emptiness and loneliness that lingered around her, haunting the apartment like a ghost that vowed to stay. She’d made so much food that she barely had the appetite for just for the sake of nostalgia and now it sat there—overwhelming and prominent.

Soraya thought about it for a little. Let every emotion flow through her—every thought, every urge, every feeling.

And eventually, her hand trailed towards the phone that lay beside her on the velvet couch. She scrolled through her contacts, somehow convincing herself that it’d be quicker and easier than the ‘hassle’ of typing the contact name into her search bar, and internally cursed at how many numbers she’d accumulated throughout the years.

Managers, coaches, teammates, friends, business partners and only a few relatives. Most of those numbers remained untouched, collecting dust in her contacts list.

Finally, her eyes landed on the one she’d been searching for all along.

Soraya remembered exactly when she’d changed the girl’s self assigned contact name. It wasn’t long after Paige had left her apartment. Soraya hadn’t even waited for the body to turn cold before she replaced the silly nickname and emoji with her full government name.

She thought it’d help. Help her compartmentalize, help her remember that their bond was meant to be professional—but that didn’t seem to work.

With a shaky thumb and hesitance that was near to suffocating her, Soraya pressed down on the call button, and she tried to steady her breathing as the phone rang. Once. Twice. Thri—

“Hello?” A husky voice rang through the other line, snapping Soraya out of it.

She could feel her heart rate picking up for no real reason, other than the fact that Paige had answered her call so quickly. As if she’d been anticipating it.

“Uh, hey.” Soraya breathed out, her tone soft and airy. She hadn’t figured out what else to say yet.

“What’s up?” The sleep in Paige’s voice was evident, and Soraya wasn’t sure how she hadn’t picked up on the moment the girl spoke.

“Were you taking a nap?” She asked.

Paige only hummed in response.

“Oh, fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you; it’s okay, go back to sleep.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Needed to get up anyway, so I should thank you,” Paige chuckled lowly, “So, what’s up? Why did you call?”

Soraya couldn’t help but be distracted by the rasp in her voice. ‘Is this what she sounds like every morning when she wakes up?’. She quickly shook those thoughts off.

“I called because,” the older girl trailed off, trying to find the words. Why was she so nervous around Paige all of a sudden? It made no sense to her. Just 48 hours prior to this she was grinding against her and making out with her, and now she couldn’t even properly speak her mind.

Soraya took a deep breath, hoping to ground herself before she continued. “I made too much food without realizing and to be honest, I don’t think I can nor do I wanna eat all of this by myself.”

It was quiet for a few seconds, enough to fill Soraya with doubt and regret.

But then Paige spoke again, “Are you inviting me over for dinner?”

Soraya could practically hear the smirk in her voice and she sighed in dramatic defeat. “I guess. But I made fufu, so if you can’t handle spicy food, don’t come.”

Paige was already sitting up in her bed, “Oh, I can handle it. Trust. I’ll be there in 20.”

“Cool.” The brunette replied with faux nonchalance.

And as they both hung up, neither of them could fight the smiles tugging at the corners of their mouth.

Soraya stayed curled up on the couch, still feeling the exhaustion linger in her bones. The dizziness had dulled, but a faint haze still clung to her head. Not enough to knock her down, but just enough to keep her aware of how much her body was begging her to slow down.

What was supposed to be a quick twenty minutes felt like an hour by the time the chime on the wall finally rang. She sat up with a quiet sigh, slipping her feet into her fuzzy slides before shuffling toward the door.

Leaning forward, she pressed the intercom button. “Hello?”

“You gonna let me up or what? I look like a creep standing here while your neighbors are watching me,” Paige’s voice crackled through the speaker, laced with playful impatience.

A quiet chuckle escaped Soraya. “Yeah, alright, drama queen. They’re not gonna eat you.”

“Probably not,” Paige shot back without missing a beat, “but I’m tryna come up and eat.”

Soraya shook her head, biting back a grin as she buzzed her in, unlocking the building door before she stepped back. Being on the second highest floor, she knew it’d take a minute or two before Paige made it up.

Eventually, the doorbell rang—three quick chimes in a row. She frowned slightly at the pattern, taking notice of it instantly.

Her heart gave a small, involuntary kick. She drew in a breath, steadying herself before reaching for the handle and pulling the door open.

The door inched open, revealing Paige dressed in a simple, grey two piece sweatsuit and her golden hair tied into her signature bun.

Soraya had no clue how to greet her. Should she hug her? Did she even want to hug her? Or should she just step aside and make space for Paige to enter? Despite being in control here, she didn’t necessarily feel like she was. Not with her.

“Come in.” She stepped aside, choosing the safest option.

Paige stepped inside with a small grin, ignoring the way her heart skipped for a reason she didn’t care to analyze. Being in Soraya’s apartment again after everything felt strange, and too unfamiliar in its familiarity. Her gaze briefly landed on the deep green velvet couch, but she quickly looked away before the memory could fully creep in and turn her cheeks warm.

“Looks just like how I left it,” Paige said, tucking her hands into her pockets in an attempt to ease whatever tension might’ve been hanging between them.

Soraya rolled her eyes lightly, almost amused. “Yup. It’s been like... a few weeks, tops.”

“Felt like years.” Paige shrugged. She wasn’t just talking about being in Soraya’s apartment. She meant being part of her life—the little parts of her day outside of basketball. Driving her around. Looking out for her. She missed all of it more than she’d admit.

And Soraya caught that. How could she not? There was a small, familiar pang in her chest before she cleared her throat and took a slow breath through her nose. “You hungry?”

Paige let out a quiet laugh, amused by the question, as if she hadn’t rushed over the moment Soraya called. It wasn’t just about the food—God, it wasn’t just that. She missed her. Missed being around her, missed the comfort of whatever fragile thing they’d started building before it started slipping through her fingers like dry sand.

“Just a little,” Paige teased, pulling one hand out of her pocket to hold up her thumb and index finger, leaving a small gap between them.

Soraya chuckled quietly again, but this time, her eyes never left the blonde. “I gotchu.”

Soraya stood at the stove, gently reheating the spicy stew that had gone lukewarm after sitting untouched for over an hour. The rich aroma filled the small kitchen.

Paige, who’d originally settled onto the couch, found herself getting up after just a few minutes. She couldn’t sit there—not with the flood of memories pressing in, like an old movie reel spinning too fast. She needed a distraction. And she needed to be near Soraya.

“Can I help?” Paige asked softly, stepping into the kitchen. She came up behind Soraya, standing a little too close. Close enough to catch the warm notes of her perfume even through the heavy scent of simmering spices.

Startled by the proximity, Soraya glanced over her shoulder, blinking. “No, it’s okay. You can just sit until I call you.”

But Paige only shook her head. “Nah, I wanna help. Tell me what to do.”

Two simple sentences. But somehow, they made Soraya’s skin prickle with heat. Not from the stove, but from Paige’s quiet insistence and her closeness. She swallowed, trying to steady her breath.

“Uh, alright… You can set the table and grab whatever you want to drink from the fridge.”

She didn’t exhale until Paige finally stepped away toward the fridge, giving her some much needed space to breathe.

As Paige opened the fridge door, her voice lifted with sudden excitement. “Wait, is that Shirley Temple?”

Soraya glanced over, humming with a nod before turning her attention back to the stew.

Paige grinned wide, rubbing her hands together like a kid in a candy store as she pulled the large pitcher of rosy pink soda out and placed it on the table. She started exploring the cabinets for plates, cups, and utensils, opening the wrong ones more than once, prompting Soraya to redirect her with a soft chuckle each time.

The kitchen filled with the soft clinking of dishes, light laughter, and low conversation. The whole scene felt oddly domestic and natural. Like something they’d done a hundred times before.

Once the table was finally set, Soraya carried the heavy pot over and gently placed it in the center. The deep red stew shimmered beneath the warm lights, the aroma richer than ever.

“Hold on,” Soraya paused, spinning back toward the counter. “We’re forgetting something.”

She returned with two small bowls of water, placing one next to each plate.

Paige blinked at them, brows drawing together. “What’s that for?”

“It’s to dip your fingers in,” Soraya explained, a small laugh escaping as she sat down. “This is probably gonna get a little messy. Not exactly the best thing to eat on a first date.”

There was a beat of silence before Paige tilted her head, voice calm but deliberate. “Is this a date?”

The question landed heavier than it should have, making Soraya freeze for a split second. Her face grew warm, but she pushed it down, brushing it off with a shake of her head, trying to sound unaffected. “No… I’m just saying.”

Paige nodded, trying to mask the brief flicker of disappointment as she pulled out her chair and sat down across from her.

And for a moment, the only sound between them was the quiet clinking of silverware and the gentle bubbling of stew.

They sat across from each other, plates full, steam rising from the deep red stew. Soraya reached for her own portion of fufu, expertly pinching a small piece between her fingers and rolling it into a neat little ball before dipping it into the stew. She lifted it to her mouth effortlessly, glancing up to see Paige watching her movements like she was studying for an exam.

Paige furrowed her brows, trying to mimic what she’d just seen. She grabbed a bit of the soft pounded fufu, but it stuck awkwardly to her fingers, refusing to roll into anything remotely round.

“Like this?” she asked, her voice tinged with hesitant amusement, holding up a lumpy, uneven piece that flopped slightly in her hand.

Soraya bit back a grin. “You’re getting there.”

Paige let out a breathy laugh, determined. She tried again, this time managing a slightly better shape before dipping it into the stew. She raised it to her mouth with a bit too much caution, but finally took the first bite.

For a moment, all seemed well. She even hummed in appreciation. “Damn. That’s really good.”

But then it hit her.

The spice snuck up like an ambush—warming her tongue, then setting it ablaze. Her eyes widened slightly as the heat bloomed across her mouth and crept up to her cheeks. She blinked, swallowing hard, trying to keep her expression neutral.

Soraya watched it all unfold with amusement she couldn’t be bothered to hide. She saw the way Paige’s nose twitched like it was threatening to run, the way her face flushed a shade deeper, her eyes beginning to glisten. She was trying so hard not to break.

“You good over there?” Soraya asked, her tone light but teasing.

“I’m great,” Paige managed, forcing a grin. “It’s… a little spicier than I expected, but it’s fine. I got this.”

She quickly reached for her glass of Shirley Temple, taking a big sip. But the carbonation only made it worse, bubbling and prickling against her already burning tongue. Paige closed her eyes briefly, trying to play it cool, but Soraya caught the little stifled cough that followed.

That was it. Soraya couldn’t hold back any longer. She let out a soft, melodic laugh, shaking her head. “You’re really thuggin’ it out, huh?”

Paige laughed too, the tension easing between them as they both dissolved into giggles.

“It’s too good to stop,” Paige said, her voice slightly strained but genuine. “I didn’t come all the way here to tap out. My taste buds just need to toughen up a little, that’s all.”

Soraya’s heart softened, watching her push through, all to impress her—though she never would’ve been offended if Paige had stopped after the first bite.

“You know,” Soraya smiled, “you don’t gotta prove anything to me.”

“I know,” Paige said, eyes locking with hers for a brief moment that felt a little heavier than before. “But I kinda want to anyway.”

Soraya tried to bite back another smile.

When they finished eating, Soraya moved to start clearing the table, but Paige was already one step ahead of her, stacking the plates.

“I got it,” Paige said simply.

“You don’t have to—” Soraya started.

“I want to.”

There was no room for argument in her tone. Not forceful, but firm enough. Paige took the dishes to the sink, rolling up the sleeves of her sweatshirt.

Soraya leaned against the counter, watching her for a moment. “You sure?”

Paige glanced over her shoulder with a faint grin. “Sit down.”

Soraya let out a quiet breath, almost smiling. She grabbed her drink and retreated to the couch, watching Paige from across the room.

The running water filled the quiet, punctuated by the soft clinking of plates. Paige moved carefully, almost focused, as if washing dishes was some kind of offering. A small, gentle way to take care of Soraya.

Soraya studied the scene from her spot, her head resting against the back of the couch. The simple domesticity of it made her chest feel warmer than she expected.

“You’re doing them too slow,” she called out quietly after a minute.

“I’m being thorough.” Paige didn’t look back, but Soraya could hear the smile in her voice.

Soraya chuckled under her breath.

The water shut off. Paige dried her hands and finally turned around, her expression prideful. “Done.”

Soraya raised her glass slightly, half in thanks. “They better be squeaky clean.”

Paige’s smile lingered, softer now. “They are. Trust.”

Eventually they both stood in front of the door, Paige grabbing her car keys and slipping back into her shoes.

In all honesty, Soraya didn’t want her to leave so soon. But it was getting late, the sun had long set and tomorrow was a new day of hard work. She’d get to see her again soon.

“Alright, well… Drive safe, ‘kay?” Soraya’s voice came out softer than expected. Warmer.

And Paige didn’t miss it.

“I will, don’t worry.” She smiled, glancing at Soraya with gentle eyes. “Alright… I’ll see you tomorrow,”

Soraya nodded, but instead of stepping back, she took a small step forward. Before Paige could process it, Soraya’s arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug.

Paige froze for half a second, caught off guard. But then her body eased into it, arms instinctively sliding around Soraya’s waist. She inhaled the familiar scent of her perfume, her pulse quickening.

The hug lingered a few seconds too long to be casual. To not mean something to both of them.

When Soraya finally pulled back, her hands lightly brushing down Paige’s arms, she offered a tiny smile. “Goodnight.”

Paige could only nod, barely finding her voice. “Night.”

Her heart was still hammering as she stepped into the hallway, the soft click of the door behind her echoing louder than it should’ve.

Most of the other teammates had already gone home to their partners, pets and the comfort of their own paces.

Soraya, however, wasn’t one of them.

She remained, occupying the weight room, training just as hard as she’d done ever since practice started early in the morning. It had to have been around seven in the afternoon, maybe six. She’d lost track a while ago.

Though, she wasn’t by herself.

Paige tried to focus on her own set, pressing the dumbbells up in steady reps, but her attention kept slipping.

The rookie couldn’t stop her eyes from drifting towards Soraya, eyes locked on the girl’s form as she lowered herself into squats. Hands tightly curled around the barbell that was propped on top of her shoulders, elbows tucked correctly. Her form was one of the best ones that Paige had seen so far.

And every time Soraya lowered her body, Paige couldn’t help but let her gaze trails towards the curve of her ass.

’Focus, you horny fuck.’ She’d tried to snap herself out of it. But that proved to be hard when every time Soraya came up from her barbell squats, a quiet exhale left her lips—almost like a soft groan—and even though her headphones blocked out most of the weight room noise, Paige couldn’t unhear it. Couldn’t unsee the way Soraya’s body moved, strong yet fluid, her form flawless.

It was starting to make her head spin.

“Psst. Paige.”

Her gaze snapped up, locking with Soraya’s, who was already looking at her from across the room with a small smirk.

“Can you spot me? I wanna bench press,” Soraya called, setting her barbell back into place.

“Yeah, sure,” Paige answered immediately, getting up and making her way over. As she stood behind Soraya while she settled onto the bench, Paige teased, “Pretty sure you’ll be fine without me.”

Soraya let out a quiet chuckle, hands curling around the barbell. “Probably. But I’m tryna challenge myself today. Better safe than sorry.”

Paige nodded, watching carefully as Soraya started her first set with two 25 pound plates on each side. The bar moved smoothly and effortless.

“Can you add another two 25s?” Soraya asked after racking the bar again.

Without question, Paige grabbed the plates and loaded them on, trying her best not to stare at how Soraya’s chest rose and fell under her snug sports bra. She blinked quickly, redirecting her attention.

Soraya lifted the bar again, lowering and pressing it without any real strain. Paige couldn’t help but shake her head.

“Two more,” Soraya said, exhaling.

Paige’s brows drew together. “You sure?”

“Mhm,” Soraya hummed. “I usually do 170. But like I said, I wanna push it today.”

Paige hesitated briefly, but nodded. “Whatever you want.”

She added the last pair of 25s, bringing the total up to 200 pounds. As Soraya arched her back and gripped the bar, Paige positioned her hands close, hovering just above the barbell, fully locked in.

Soraya lowered the bar slowly. A deep groan rumbled from her chest as she pressed it back up, her arms visibly trembling now. Her eyes squeezed shut, muscles tense with effort. Paige was hyper aware of every second. The bar, her breathing, the way Soraya’s body strained beneath the weight. And yet, somehow, her mind kept drifting places it shouldn’t.

After a couple more reps, Soraya racked the bar with a controlled exhale, a wide grin spreading across her flushed face. She sat up, turning to Paige with bright eyes.

“What did I say?” she teased, giving Paige a light smack to the stomach with the back of her hand.

Paige laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “Yeah, alright, alright. You did good.” The pride in her voice was obvious, and Soraya felt her chest warm at the sound of it.

“Your wanna switch?” Soraya asked, tilting her head, and Paige nodded.

Soraya stood behind Paige at the bench, watching her lower the weights back down to 150 before taking Soraya’s place as she gripped the barbell and began her set. The heavy weight moved smoothly in her hands, barely testing her. Soraya licked her lips without realizing, tracking every controlled motion as Paige pressed the bar up and down with steady breaths.

Eventually, Paige set the bar back into place and turned her head toward Soraya, still lying flat against the bench.

“C’mere.”

Soraya didn’t hesitate, stepping around to stand beside her.

Paige’s gaze swept up her figure before landing on her eyes. “Can I lift you instead?” she asked, voice dripping with teasing confidence.

Soraya raised an amused brow, a grin threatening her lips. “What’s wrong with the barbell?”

“Not good enough,” Paige replied, fully smirking now. “I’d enjoy bench pressing your pretty ass a lot more.” She licked her lips slowly, eyes shamelessly tracing Soraya from head to toe.

Soraya felt her heart pick up, heat spreading beneath her skin as she fought the smirk on her own face. With a quiet breath, she echoed Paige’s words from the day before, “Whatever you want.”

She stepped in closer, standing right by the bench, already crossing her arms over her chest. Paige didn’t waste a second, placing one hand against Soraya’s stomach, the other just above her knees and carefully adjusting her hold before smoothly lifting her off the ground.

Soraya let out a surprised little laugh as Paige settled her weight horizontally across her hands, belly down. “Okay, okay—” she giggled as Paige began to lift and lower her steadily, as if she weighed nothing.

Every time she was pushed upward, Soraya caught fleeting glimpses of Paige’s smirking face below her, eyes sparkling with amusement and something warmer. Then she shot her a cocky, playful wink. Soraya rolled her eyes with a breathy chuckle, but she couldn’t fight the heat low in her stomach.

Suddenly Paige picked up the pace, pressing her up a little faster.

“Paige—!” Soraya squealed, half laughing, half shrieking.

“You’re light,” Paige said, grinning wide, the weight of her gaze almost heavier than her hands. “Could do this all day.”

Shortly after, Paige lowered Soraya back down slowly, but instead of fully letting go, she let Soraya land softly onto her lap. The gentle drop sent a small shock through Soraya, who let out another breathless giggle, now straddling Paige’s thighs.

Paige’s hands remained steady on her hips, fingers curling just slightly as their eyes met for a lingering beat. Neither of them spoke, there wasn’t much to say when the air between them was already thick enough to speak for itself.

Then Paige’s voice cut through, low and velvety. “Actually,” she tilted her head, eyes glinting. “Sit on the bar.”

Soraya blinked, caught off guard. “The bar?”

Paige smirked, nodding toward the bench press. “Yeah. Facing me.”

The request alone made Soraya’s lower stomach flutter. A faint blush crept up her neck, but she didn’t hesitate for long. “You’re ridiculous,” she murmured under her breath, shaking her head with a breathy laugh as she removed the weight plates and climbed carefully over Paige’s head.

Paige adjusted herself, letting Soraya swing one leg over, then the other, until she was perched carefully on top of the barbell, her thighs spread as she faced Paige directly. Her hands found the sides of the machine to steady herself, heart pounding as she tried to fight the flustered grin threatening her lips.

“Ready?” Paige asked, already curling her hands under Soraya’s thighs, gripping her gently but firmly.

Soraya bit her lip, nodding once. “Don’t drop me.”

“Never.” Paige’s smirk was impossibly smug as she lifted Soraya off the bar with ease.

The rhythm was slow at first. Soraya rising and lowering in steady motions, her hands gripping the frame, head tilted slightly downward, eyes flickering between the way Paige’s arms flexed beneath her and the steady pull of Paige’s gaze locked directly on her.

With every upward press, Paige’s face was nearly flush against Soraya’s core, her breath ghosting against the thin material of Soraya’s shorts. Every descent brought the plush of Soraya’s ass down softly against Paige’s chest, the warm pressure of their bodies meeting in ways that drove both of them crazy.

The tension tightened between them with each motion. Soraya’s thighs tried to instinctively squeeze slightly the closer she came down, her breath hitching faintly every time Paige’s face hovered inches from her heat.

Paige licked her lips slowly, blue eyes darkening with each controlled lift. “You’re so much better than any barbell,” she muttered under her breath, the weight of her voice sending shivers through Soraya’s already burning body.

Soraya’s hands clenched tighter against the machine as her breathing grew uneven. “Yeah, I can tell.” Her voice came out quieter than intended, shaky with the warmth spreading through her like wildfire.

Paige didn’t respond this time, only smirked and pressed her up again, letting the silence between them pulse with electric heat.

The blonde gently helped Soraya back onto the floor, releasing her grip as she let her catch her balance. She sat up straight, head tilted slightly to look up at Soraya, who was already gazing down at her.

The silence between them was charged. Their eyes locked, and it was as if they were having a full conversation without saying a single word. There was no playfulness this time, only raw heat, a silent exchange of permission and want.

Paige’s hands slid back up, curling around Soraya’s hips, slowly tugging her closer until she was standing between her spread legs. Her voice was soft, almost dreamlike. “Wanna kiss you.”

The words barely hung in the air, thick with desire.

Soraya’s pulse quickened. She told herself this was the moment she should step away, that she should stop it before it escalated into yet another thing they couldn’t take back. But the longer Paige looked up at her like that—those flushed cheeks, darkened eyes, lips parted—the less she cared.

Her hands found Paige’s shoulders, grounding herself. “Yeah? How bad?” she whispered, voice breathy, teasing, testing.

Paige’s smirk was slow and hungry, her grip on Soraya’s hips firming slightly. “So fucking bad.”

Soraya swallowed, eyes flickering over Paige’s face, drinking in every detail like she was trying to memorize her. ’God, why did she have to be so beautiful?’

A quiet curse slipped from her lips. Fuck it.

She leaned down, one hand sliding to Paige’s jaw, tilting her chin up before finally closing the small space between them. Their mouths met. Slow at first, tender, but it didn’t take long before it deepened, turning messier, hungrier. Like they both had been waiting for this too long.

Soraya climbed into Paige’s lap without breaking the kiss, straddling her thighs, pressing herself closer. Paige groaned softly, hands gliding over Soraya’s back, up her spine, tracing her body like she couldn’t get enough of touching her.

Their kisses grew more desperate, open mouthed and breathless. Paige sighed into Soraya’s mouth as Soraya tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of her neck, earning a low hum from the blonde.

The weight room, the world, everything else faded behind the heat of their bodies pressed together, the taste of each other’s lips, the heavy sound of their breathing filling the quiet space.

Paige's lips never left Soraya’s as her hands slid lower, gripping beneath her thighs before lifting her with ease. Soraya instinctively wrapped her legs around Paige’s waist, gasping softly as she was pinned against the nearest wall, the cold surface biting against her back.

The gasp was all Paige needed. She deepened the kiss instantly, tongue slipping in to meet Soraya’s, their mouths moving together in a hungry, messy rhythm. Every moan, every quiet breath was swallowed between them.

Paige’s grip tightened, grounding Soraya against the wall as their kiss grew filthier, needier. Soraya’s fingers curled tighter behind Paige’s neck, but after a few desperate minutes, she let one hand fall. She tapped against Paige’s forearm, breath shaky, before tugging lightly at her wrist—wordlessly asking.

Paige understood immediately. Her hand shifted, pressing firmer into Soraya’s backside to hold her steady as she slipped her free hand between their bodies.

Her fingertips ghosted over Soraya’s gym shorts, teasing, barely touching. Soraya’s breath hitched, her lips parting as she buried her forehead briefly against Paige’s.

Paige’s voice came out low, cocky, and breathless against her ear. “Right here?”

Soraya let out a soft breath, nodding faintly. “Don’t make me say it.”

That made Paige grin against her mouth. Her hand pressed fully now, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over Soraya’s clothed core, feeling the heat radiating through the thin fabric. Soraya’s hips rolled against the movement automatically, breathing heavy, her grip tightening in Paige’s hair.

“Fuck—” Soraya whispered brokenly, her voice hitching as Paige’s fingers pressed a little harder, slow but torturously steady.

The weight room felt too quiet now—except for the sounds of their breath, their lips, and the soft friction between Paige’s hand and Soraya’s desperate body.

Neither one cared who might walk in.

Paige’s fingers kept their torturously slow rhythm over Soraya’s shorts until she couldn’t take it anymore. Not when she felt how wet the fabric was beneath her hand. Her breathing came out shallow, her own arousal buzzing through her veins like static.

“Damn, you’re soaked,” Paige murmured into Soraya’s ear, lips brushing against the shell of it. The teasing lilt in her voice sent a full body shiver through Soraya.

Instead of getting flustered or shutting her down, Soraya met her gaze. Steady, burning and completely unashamed. She nodded, biting her lower lip before she whispered, “Mhm. For you.”

The answer made Paige’s head spin. Her cocky smirk faltered for a second under the weight of how much that turned her on.

Without another word, Paige’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of Soraya’s shorts, past the thin line of her panties, finally meeting her bare, dripping heat. Her fingers slid through the wetness, exhaling sharply as her fingertips glided over her folds.

“Fuck,” Paige breathed, her voice rough. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Soraya just smiled faintly, a low breath escaping her as she clung to Paige’s shoulders.

That was all Paige needed. She let two fingers slip inside her in one smooth motion, burying them to the last knuckle. Soraya gasped sharply, her head tipping back against the wall. Paige’s thumb found her clit easily, starting small, tight circles as her fingers began to pump in and out, slow at first but gradually building a rhythm.

“Fuck, look at you,” Paige whispered, watching the way her body reacted with every movement. “So fucking perfect.”

Her words were filled with reverence, like Paige was dead set on worshiping her right there against the wall. Every roll of her wrist was deliberate, calculated, like she had something to prove—and she did.

She wanted to ruin Soraya. She wanted to make her crave it. To make sure that after tonight, Soraya wouldn’t be able to look at her without remembering this.

Soraya’s breathing grew shakier, her hips moving involuntarily to meet Paige’s hand as the pleasure started to build fast and hot. “Don’t stop—” she exhaled, breath hitching.

Paige leaned in, lips brushing against Soraya’s jaw as her fingers curled. “I won’t. Not ‘til you come for me, mama.”

Soraya whimpered softly, the coil in her stomach tightening dangerously with every pass of Paige’s thumb, her legs trembling slightly around Paige’s waist as the pressure built.

And Paige could feel how close she was. How badly her body wanted to give in.

“C’mon, baby,” Paige whispered against her lips. “I gotchu.”

The rope finally snapped, Soraya’s body jerking against the wall as she came with a breathless cry, her nails digging into Paige’s shoulders. Paige held her through it, never slowing her hand until Soraya fully unraveled in her arms.

When Soraya finally sagged against her, limp and breathless, Paige pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her temple, her chest heaving.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. But when Soraya finally managed to look down at her, eyes still hazy, she whispered with a small, teasing grin.

“…you might actually kill me.”

Paige grinned back up at her, utterly wrecked in the best way. “Not yet.”

Soraya was still catching her breath, heart pounding against her ribcage, but her lips found Paige’s again, slow and hungry. Desperate for more. Her voice came out as a breathy mumble against the blonde’s mouth.

“Wanna do you right too…” she whispered, fingers lightly tugging at Paige’s waistband, making her intentions very clear.

Paige was all for it. Her lips curved into a smirk against Soraya’s, hands gripping her waist tighter. “Yeah?” she breathed, voice low and eager, “Right here?”

But before anything else could happen, the sound of footsteps echoed faintly from outside the weight room. Both of them froze.

Paige reluctantly set Soraya back down on her feet, still steadying her by the hips as they both listened for a moment, holding their breath with hidden smiles on their faces. The footsteps grew distant again, but the interruption had already sobered them slightly.

Soraya cleared her throat softly, stepping back just enough to put a bit of space between them in case anyone walked in unexpectedly.

Paige let out a soft chuckle, still looking at her with hooded eyes. “Already running away from me?” she teased, voice dripping with playfulness.

Soraya rolled her eyes, lips curling into a faux annoyed grin. “Shut the fuck up”

With the heat still simmering between them, they eventually made their way out of the weight room, stealing one last long hug before parting ways in the parking lot.

Paige followed Soraya to her car, standing back as she made sure Soraya got in safely and drove off. Only then did she head toward her own car, the smirk still tugging at her lips as she climbed inside, her mind replaying every second of what just happened as she finally drove off into the night.

extended taglist 🐆 — @thelightknight21 @private-but-not-a-secret @angryflowerwitch @jieysiee @angelliicc @paigebaby5 @ttytttt-gndgnvbm @syraxbigfanfr @forward1212 @niya500 @wosolipa @enchantingesme @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @ksimsplayer @hggbiijj @pupbistro

[luvyeni]

LOVESICK BOY 𝕼. ( 이동혁 )

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 이동혁 x fem!reader )  ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. unprotected sex , oral ( f )word count. 3.5k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library  !

synopsis … haechan is completely lovesick … but you won’t give him the time a day , until chenle comes in and shows you what you’ve been missing

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ this is the one that i think was supposed to be a yandere but the person didn’t specify

you really couldn’t see the appeal; all he did was sleep around with other girls, party and never show up to class — so why couldn’t you stop staring at him?

“my god he’s so annoying.” chenle turned around to see who you were staring at. “and how is she even falling for that?” you watched donghyuck flirt with the 3rd girl this morning , the girls eyes shimmered with hope and joy. if only she knew she’d be severely disappointed in the end. “this is your third complaint about him today.” jeno smirked. “we’ll need to get a jar , every complaint about hyuck you’ll have to put a dollar in the jar.”

“hey maybe we will be able to afford a new game for the frat after all , give it a week.” jaemin teased , you scoffed. “with the way she talks about him , maybe will have a little left over.” the table laughed , while you just rolled your eyes. “haha very funny , im leaving.” you stood up ready to walk away when someone blocked your path. “lee donghyuck.” you sighed , the boy smiled in front of you. “hey my wife to be.” he smirked. “where you going i just got here.” he said.

“really because we all saw you flirting with that girl over there.” you didn’t even mean to sound jealous , but it came off like that. “you jealous?” he said , you stepped to the right , but he followed blocking you once again. “come on you know you’re the one that i want.” and he was serious about that , but to you it meant nothing. “yeah , how many people did you say that to today?” you pushed him out the way , walking away to your next class.

he waited until you were out of sight and earshot before he sat in the seat slumped. “and what’s got you upset today?” marked smirked , the guys groaning knowing the rant he was about to go on. “you got him started.” he sighed dramatically. “i just don’t get it , why won’t she take me seriously.” his friends shook their heads. “how many times do i have to confess for her to get it.” he said. “for starters don’t flirt with other girls in front of her.” renjun said. “but i wasn’t flirting , i only asked where she got her necklace from.” he said. “i wanted to buy it for yn , she said a month ago her favorite necklace broke and i wanted to get her a new one , that looked like one she would like.” he said.

“yeah but that girl looked like she wanted to pull your pants down and suck your dick in front of everyone and with how friendly you were, it looked like you’d let her.” chenle said. “this is driving me insane.” he tugged at his hair. he couldn’t get you out of his head, you consumed him entirely even though you barely gave him the time of day. he even enjoyed when you would insult him because at least you were talking to him. “you guys don’t understand.” he sighed. “you’ve explained it , many many many times.” jisung looked up from his phone. “we understand.”

“where did obsession even come from , she’s never given you any reason for you to like her like that.” jaemin said. “i don’t know , it’s just that every single thing she does makes me crazy, even now i feel sick that she isn’t here , i miss her and she doesn’t even know it.” his friends watch him pour his heart out. “i think i love her.”

“whoa calm down.” mark said. “at least get her to like you before you start talking fucking wedding bells , children and shit.” the table chuckled , but he was serious. “how can i get her to like me?” he said. “aren’t you supposed to be good at this?” chenle said. “aren’t you like known for getting girls out of their panties , this should be a walk in the park for you.” haechan knew his reputation ; and he won’t deny his freshman year he really was like that — but then he met you , and everything changed , he no longer wanted to be a player , he wanted you and only you… turns out his past did come with consequences , you hated him; you wanted nothing to do with him despite him telling you that he changed , you refused to believe him.

“that’s the thing , i don’t want to get her out her panties.” they all looked at him. “well not just that , i want to be her , go on dates , take her to the movies , hell sit in the park and have a picnic.” he said. “yeah but you also want to fuck her in these exact places and she’s aware of that.” jeno said. “it’s your approach bro.” mark said. “yn doesn’t want to know what you’d do to her if you were alone in her bedroom.” he said. “she’s probably heard that 1000 times already.” he doubled over with a groan , he couldn’t fathom another guy talking to you. “instead of approaching her like a jerk , ask her on a real date first; or at least say hello when you see her and not and this is a quote from you ‘hello mother of all 6 of my future kids.’

he thought about all the advice that he was giving; as he waited outside of your class. “don’t say anything stupid.” he said to himself , walking back and forth. “nothing stupid.” he said. “oh that must be hard for you.” he spun around upon hearing your voice. “you’re constantly saying stupid stuff.” he smiled , your upper lip curled up in annoyance. “hi yn.” he said. “what do you want lee donghyuck?” you walked , he followed behind you. “well to ask you a question.” he said. “no.” you said , he pouted , making you feel bad. “fine what is it , i have a class.” you said. “i can walk you.” he said walking next to you. “is that what you wanted? that’s not a question.”

“that’s not the question yn , please listen to me for a second.” he pleased. “what is is donghyuck?” you said. “let me take you out,” he said. “what?” you stopped. “let me take you out.” he repeated. “on a date , a real date.” he said. “and why would i do that?” you said. “because im trying to show you that im not a heartless bastard with no home training.” you stifled a laugh. “did you laugh?” he said. “no.” you deadpanned. “yes you did , come on it was funny , you can laugh.” he said. “haechan — oh my god , you called me haechan.” you stared at him. “i have class donghyuck.” you stopped outside the classroom. “then say yes; we’ll go see a movie.” he explained. “we can even go get ice cream , brownie your favorite.”

“how did you know that?” you asked. “just say yes , before you’re late.” he said. you thought about it for a second , no sexual jokes , no condescending smirk on his face , although sexy made you want to slap him — he was serious. “are you fucking with me?” you said. “yn i wouldn’t have walked you all the way to class if i wasn’t serious , my class is on the other side of campus.” he said. “im waiting and you know what i think i can miss a day of class , this class seems fun.” he tried to walk past you , but you stopped him. , hand on his chest. “no don’t do that.” you said. “i will go; so go back to your class , lord knows you shouldn’t miss a day.” he smiled , his hand coming to your wrist. “really?” he said. “i will meet you at the movie theatre , now go.”

he waited for you to go into the class; before bursting out in a fit of excitement; you said yes , he couldn’t believe you said yes.

“i can’t believe i said yes.” you slammed your vanity. “why did i say yes?” you complained to your friend on the phone. “because maybe you really like him and you let his reputation from freshman year determine your entire perception of him.” chenle said. “still , we both saw him flirting with those girls.” you said. “i won’t be another one of sexual conquests.” chenle spoke up. “be realistic who didn’t do dumb shit during freshman year? you ran topless down a busy street drunk and has haechan judged you for that?” he said. “no in fact he was the one who chased you down the street, shirt in hand , his shirt because yours was floating in our pool.” you cringed, remembering jeno and haechan dragging you back to the dorms as you screamed. “i genuinely believe that was the first time he actually realized he fell deep for you and not because you were naked and in his arms.”

“to be honest haechan hasn’t been with anyone since freshman year , im pretty sure he fucked himself into not wanting anything , but not only that , but because he quite literally doesn’t want anyone else but you.” chenle said. “and those girls , we know he’s friendly even the teachers think he’s flirting with them.” he said. “but he was touching her.” you said. “because she had a necklace that he wanted to buy you , he remembered you broke yours and he wanted to get you a new one.” he let it spill out; should he have? no , but with the new look on your face he knew haechan would thank him in the end. “i only mention that once , months ago.”

“and he remembered; just how he remembers everything you say , down to the name of your dead hamster you had when you were three.” chenle said. “i genuinely don’t think you understand how much he likes you.” he said. “and i think you’re letting your soulmate slip right from your hands.”

as you stood staring at the movie posters; everything was swirling around in your head as you tried to make sense of it… did haechan really feel this deeply for you? you’ve treated him so horribly for all these years for some stupid things he did when he was fresh out of highschool; and now chenle sprung this on you… you felt like shit. you hadn’t even realized that haechan was late. “yn!”

you were gonna kill him; you’ll never give him the time of day again, you’re gonna think he’s fucking with you. “calm down man , how were you supposed to know your car was gonna break down.” mark sat in the drivers seat. “call her , im sure she’ll understand.” he said. “she probably already went home , and blocked me.” he said. “well we’re here , so get out and hope she’s still there.” he hopped out of the car , running into the movie theaters. “please still be here.”

he saw you and let out a sigh of relief; your back was turned but he could tell it was you. he could pick you out of a lineup with his eyes closed; just by your scent alone. “yn!” he ran over to you. “im so sorry i didn’t hmph.” was he dreaming? this was a sick joke his mind was play; he was dreaming , you actually weren’t here and this was a dream he was having. he had to be — because there was no way you were hugging him right now. “um not that i don’t like this … but what is this?”

you were silent; no you sniffled. why are you sniffling? are you sick? “yn , this is weird, what’s wrong?” he pulled away; you were too ashamed to look him in the eyes. “please look at me , im sorry for being late.” he said. “why are you crying?” he said, worried even more now. “what happened did someone do something?” you shook your head. “then tell me please im dying.” he said, which made you laugh through your tears. “im so stupid.” you said. “please i’ve met stupid girls and you definitely aren’t one of them.” he said. “oh no that came out wrong i promise i haven't met any girls , it’s just me saying that i think you’re very smart.” he panicked. “please just tell me why you’re crying.” he said.

“because i’ve been so mean to you an-and all you’ve tried to do is be nice to me and i judged you for things you did years; even though you’ve never judged me even when i ran down the street topless— hey!” his hand came up to your mouth. “not everyone needs to hear that.” he said. “where is all this coming from?” he said. “im just sorry for everything.” you said. “every single thing i’ve done wrong.” his first instinct was to grab your face. “nothing could make me hate you okay?” he said. “i haven’t done much to prove how much i really like you; only how much i wanted to sleep with you — wait not that i want to sleep with you, why am i so bad at this all of a sudden.” he said. “let’s just go see the movie okay, we can get ice cream after and talk alright?” you nodded , he took his hands off your cheeks , taking one of your hands into his. “come on wipe those tears off your pretty face.”

haechan could barely watch the movie with the way your hand was gripping his. you wouldn’t let him go , and he wouldn’t have it any other way — if this was a dream he was scheduling an appointment for a therapist when he woke up because he would never mentally recover from this if it was fake. “why do you keep staring at my home like that?” you whispered with a smile. “because im trying to see if im dreaming or not,” he said. “you’re holding my hand.” he said. “you’re actually holding my hand.” he smiled. “you’re on a date with me, and you’re holding my hand.” he could’ve burst into excitement if he wasn’t in a quiet movie theater. “you’re not dreaming.” you kissed his knuckles and he almost passed out. “see.”

“maybe i still don’t believe it.” you giggled , before you reached over kissing his cheek, leaving the boy shocked. “do you believe it now?” he nodded. “good because i don’t think there was anything else I could’ve done here in public that would’ve made you believe me.” you said. “well maybe if there was less people.” did you really say that? what did you mean by that? now he was thinking about other stuff. would you have touched him? in public?

the movie soon ended and you still hadn’t let him go even as you made your way to the ice cream shop to get your ice cream. “sorry we’re out of brownie ice cream.” the worker said. “really?” you frowned. “maybe you can get chocolate?” he said. “it’s not the same.” you said. “well we can stop to get some food since you didn’t eat anything at the movies.” he said , he really didn’t want this date to end. “or..” you started. “we can go to my apartment and i can make ramen.” your house? you were letting him in your house? “what do you say?” why would he fucking say no? “okay.”

the walk back to your apartment wasn’t that long , nether was the elevator to your apartment; but he soon found himself in your space, surrounded by your scent and all things you — this was his heaven. “haechan.” he heard you call him , which made him turn to you. he couldn’t even react before your lips were on his. your kiss was something he dreamt about often , your soft pillowy lips on his; your fingers working their way through his neck hairs. “wa-wait yn.” he pulled away before he got carried away. “as much as i love this , i definitely don’t want to do this just cause you feel bad.” he said. “no-no i want this.” you said. “i want this so much.” you said , and that was all the confirmation he needed. “then let me do it.”

he picked you up; taking you to your room , kicking the door open. “wan’ you go sit on my face.” he said. “fuck i need you to sit on my face.” he groaned , laying back. “i don’t want to hurt you.” he didn’t care; dying with his face stuffed between your legs seemed like his dream way to go. “no , no you won’t please.” he begged , pulling your skirt down , along with your panties , your wet was right there , he could smell your scent as you dripped for him. “please sit , please im gonna die if you don’t.” he grabbed your thighs desperately. “sit please.” you finally gave in , lowering yourself down , you could feel his tongue. “oh-oh hyuck.” you moaned , yelping as he impatiently pulled you down. “fuck!”

he wasted no time licking your folds , holding you by your waist like you’d run away if he didn’t , your hips involuntarily moved against his tongue , your hands coming to hair pulling at it. “fuck keep going.” you moaned. “just like that , im gonna cum!” he sucked on your clit , sending you over the edge. “oh my god!” you gasped your legs began to shake. “im cumming!”

the boy below opened his mouth , allowing your juices to flow straight into his mouth; drinking everything you had to give him; his cock begging to be freed and touched — tasting you wasn’t enough, he needed to be inside you. “hyuck i can’t - too much!” he finally let up on your poor cunt , but that doesn’t mean he was done. “i need you.” he moaned, kissing your thighs. “you have me.” you said , he flipped you over. “I need to fuck you , pl-please.” he pressed himself against your bare lower half. “pl-please hyuck.” you reached down , pulling at his pants , undoing the buttons. “please fuck me.”

he stood up quickly; not wanting to be away from you much longer , pulling his pants down , along with his underwear. “i-i don’t have a condom.” he said , you didn’t care right now. “are you clean?” he nodded , his aching cock standing in desperate need of attention. “then please touch me , please.”

he climbed back in between your legs. “fuck.” he cursed the moment his hip touched your soaking cunt. he knew he wasn’t gonna last long , but he knew he didn’t want to let you down. “It-it’s okay.” you touched his cock , slowly guiding it inside you. “oh fuck you’re so tight.” he had to compose himself. “fu-fuck i don’t think I’m gonna last.” he fully stilled himself inside you. “can i move?” you moaned. “please move hyuck.”

he grabbed your waist; moving. “oh-oh fuck you’re so big.” he groaned. “faster hyuck.” you whined. “please go faster.” he hissed as he picked up the pace , feeling you clench around him repeatedly. “fuck if you keep doing that , im gonna cum.” he said , his movements still remaining strong and fluid as his tip kissed your cervix over and over. “fuck im cumming.” he groaned ,his cock twitching inside you before he shot his load inside of you. “oh fuck im sorry.” he pulled out , finishing on your sensitive cunt. “sh-shit it’s okay.”

he definitely wasn’t about to leave you hanging; pushing his sensitive cock right back inside you. “fuck hyuck!” you screamed , your neighbors surely won’t be happy with you in the morning. “wanna make you cum.” he said , his hands planted on both sides of your head. “fuck hyuck keep going.” you moaned. “right there , im gonna cum.” he kept up his pace , soon your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came. “oh fuck!” he felt himself cumming a second time , this time he didn’t pull out.

“i didn’t pull out.” he said breathlessly. “th-that’s okay.” you said. “we-we need to clean up.” you sat up , but he wasn’t done , now that he finally got a taste of you , he wanted it again , and again and again. “not yet.” he kissed your stomach. “i wanna do it.” your eyes followed his dark ones as he kissed and bit at your thighs. “wanna clean your pretty pussy myself.”

it was truly gonna be a long night for your neighbors.

“there he is at it again.” jaemin looked past you , making you turn around. “he can’t read a single room can it.” you watch the girls face turn beat red as the boy in front of him start a conversation. “she can’t either , can she not tell he’s not interested.” chenle spoke up. “excuse me.” you got up , the table was confused. “class?” jeno smirked , you shook your head. “no.” you walked away , straight over to the boy. “oh hi , you see these earrings?” you nodded at the clueless boy in front of you. “our 5 months is coming up , wouldn’t you like these?” the girl finally got the hint walking away. “wait what brand are they?” you dragged him back to the table. “I’ll find you a better pair.”

“and he still can’t see why she hated him?” jisung said. “I don’t need anymore jewelry ; we’ve been together 5 months and you’ve given me way more jewelry than i’ll ever need.” you said. “you’re right , i’ll just get you flowers.” you smiled , giving him a cheek kiss. “if that’s what you want hyuck.” he still stared at you with the same love sick look.

he was clueless and couldn’t read the room at all ; but he was yours… and you wouldn’t change him for the world.

©️LUVYENI

[kamiversee]

Sharing Is Caring ꨄ (part 1/3)

[ { Synopsis } ] ➤ Sure, your boyfriend Choso gets jealous from time to time but that doesn’t mean you have the right to put him on sex-ban. Hence why he’ll show you he actually has no issues with sharing you (with a certain person).

[ { Need to know } ] ➤This is a What-If scenario that stems from my fic; The F*ck List— A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt.

[ { Content & Warning } ] ➤ f!reader, lots of teasing and taunting, language, heavy sexual tension, buildup to a threesome, & two guys who are completely infatuated with you ^.^

[ { Parings } ] ➤ Choso x f!reader & Gojo x f!reader.

[ { Word Count } ] ➤ 6.7k

“Oh my god Choso, shut up,” You whined, brows tense and eyes narrowed at your boyfriend who you’ve been arguing with for the past twenty minutes.

Choso scoffs, “Excuse me?” He tests, trying to see if he really heard what you just said to him, “Wanna repeat that f’me?”

With an annoyed roll of your eyes, “I said shut up. You just got home and you’re already starting up with this shit again. Choso, I’m not taking you off of sex-ban.”

Dating Choso is… an experience, to say the least. Sure, he’s a wonderful boyfriend and overall the perfect man for you but, that doesn’t mean you two don’t have your arguments or periods of being upset with one another.

Again, he’s amazing and all but there are times like now where you and him really get into it. He’s stressed out and you’re frustrated— both of which don’t make the best combination.

You’re standing by his living room couch watching him tug off his jacket. Choso’s face is ticked off but he won’t stop looking at you. As for you, your eyes are everywhere else except for his.

“Baby, it’s been three weeks. Three,” He emphasizes, “I can go without sex perfectly fine but you barely even touch me now.”

“Well this is what you get for being an overly jealous boyfriend,” You say with a scoff.

Choso cocks his head to the side and his eyes narrow, “What was I supposed to do that day, huh? Just sit there and watch some guy openly flirt with you like I’m not standing right next to you?”

“You’re being dramatic,” You tell him bluntly, arms crossing over one another, “I told you numerous times before, that if you kept up the jealous act I’d put you on sex-ban, and now; here we are and you’re complaining about it.”

“It’s not the sex-ban, baby. Did you even hear what I just said?” Choso asks. He then takes a single step closer to where you are, “You don’t touch me, hug me, or even kiss me as much anymore and it’s been three weeks.”

A nonchalant little shrug is given to him, “Maybe if you didn’t scold your girlfriend for someone else’s actions, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now-“

“I already apologized for that so I don’t understand why I’m not receiving any sort of affection from you,” Choso cuts off. As he nears you, his hand goes down to his belt and he starts to unbuckle it, clearly unwinding after his long day of work.

Your eyes just barely glance over to him and down at his hands fumbling with his belt. Then, you scan your boyfriend up and down and mentally curse yourself for being upset with him right now because fuck is he too attractive for his own good.

You swallow thickly and lift your gaze to his face, only to meet his eyes already on yours. For a moment, you maintain eye contact but then, you glance off to the side again, “Because all sorts of affection always lead to something more and I banned you from sex for a reason,” You explain with a sigh.

“Yeah well, how long do I have to go through this hell, huh?” He asks, tone stern and aggravated with you.

“Hell?” You scoff, “Choso you know there are other things to our relationship outside of sex-“

“Clearly you’re not hearin’ me,” He cuts off yet again, shaking his head at you as he tugs his belt off and walks even closer to you.

Unconsciously, you take a step back and Choso kisses his teeth as you do so before he tosses his belt on the couch along with the jacket he recently took off.

With a long sigh, Choso brings a hand up to his face and wipes it, as if that’ll help him focus his thoughts. Then, he voices out your name and you tense up a little, “It’s not about the sex,” He says yet again, slowly turning his head to you, “You don’t touch me anymore. Do you know how depriving that is?”

You shrug again, “It’s not the first time you’ve gone without my touch Choso, get over it-“

“Baby you practically live with me now,” He interrupts, “I wake up in the same bed as you almost every morning and when I try to hug you, you’re pulling away from me.”

“Again, every touch leads to something else,” You repeat, frustrated with your boyfriend and how he’s making such a big deal out of this.

Choso’s eyes narrow and a vein pops out in his forehead, “Do you think I lack that much self-control? If you put me on sex-ban then you put me on sex-ban. I have enough restraint to respect that, princess.”

You release a huff, “Okay, well-“

“Well what?” He cuts off impatiently.

Your face twists up, “Well if you’d let me—,” You blink and notice how close he’s gotten to you, your head angling up just a bit to make eye contact with him as he stands hardly an inch away from you. God, he smells good, “F-Finish…” You gulp, “I-I’m not an idiot Choso, you and I both know that self-control or no, when you’re pent up, you get more needy and I always let you have your way.”

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying to you?” Choso asks, head tipping to the side for a moment before he’s leaning down to you, “No seriously, are you rendering the words coming out of my mouth, love?” He asks almost in a way that makes you feel small.

A scowl washes over your expression as your eyes meet his once more, “Yes I’m rendering the words coming out of your mouth, Choso. Are you comprehending anything I’m saying to you?”

“I am.” He hums.

“Okay then why are we still having this conversation?” You ask in a dull tone, voice a bit softer now that he’s all close to you.

Choso cracks a little smirk but he still sounds annoyed, “Because you haven’t laid a finger on me in five days.”

“Choso-“

“That’s a hundred and twenty hours without a single touch from you,” He explains, eyes boring into yours.

Your brows raise and you snicker, “You can’t be serious-“

“It’s been seven days since I last felt your arms around me,” He continues, his body inching closer to your own.

You don’t move away this time and simply keep your eyes directly on his, “Why are you keeping track?”

“Sixteen days since you last kissed me,” Choso recalls, his voice getting lower.

“Oh come on-“

His hand is suddenly placed on your waist and he tugs your body up against his, “And three weeks since we’ve had sex.”

Your breath hitches a bit as your chest clashes with his and you keep your arms and hands everywhere except on him, pretty much proving all the points he just made.

Were you really trying not to touch Choso for the past three weeks? Yes. Is that because you’re worried about him getting carried away? No, you’re worried about you getting carried away. You know Choso has self-control but, it’s you who lacks it sometimes.

Swallowing hard, “Choso…” You murmur carefully.

“Baby I’m starved,” He nearly groans out, both his arms wrapping around your waist while his face inclines toward your own, “I need something from you-, anything.”

You bite down on your lower lip and stare at your boyfriend’s face. He’s so close to you, so desperate for you— it was cute how needy he was.

Purposefully, you lean closer to him and his eyes sink to your lips immediately as they nearly press into his own. Then, you stop a hair away from him, teasing him-, torturing him, “Not until you fix your jealousy issue,” You whisper to the man.

Oh Choso’s losing his mind right now. The urge he has to just press his lips into your plush ones is simply killing him. The arms around your waist tighten and his eyes are pleading with you.

“Baby please?” Choso begs, voice laced with the faintest whine.

You nearly folded at the sound of his begging. Hell, your eyelids began to lower and you wanted to kiss him just as badly as he wanted a kiss from you. You know just one won’t hurt but the fact that it’s been three weeks worries you.

He’s not the only one all pent up and starved, nor does he have any idea how horny you’ve been the past few weeks.

There was a day he came home from the gym and you watched him snatch his sweaty shirt off his body. You swore you were drooling for your boyfriend at the time because he’d been working out excessively just for you.

That was the last day you ended up kissing Choso because as soon as he went and showered, you were all over him. It was hard to control yourself when he smelled so good and his hair was all loose and damp with water— soft groans leaving his throat every time you pressed your lips to his jaw.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t considering eating him up that day. But, you managed to get ahold of yourself at the time and just barely pried your body away from his.

As of right now on the other hand… Your hands are carefully lifting to his arms, gently feeling his muscles through his clothes as your faces remain close to one another.

You wanted to kiss him so badly. It won’t hurt, right?

Slowly, your arms lift up even more and soon wrap around his neck— to which Choso’s breathing picks up and his heart rate increases. The smallest touches from you were already driving him crazy and his hands began to explore your back a little.

“Just one,” You whisper to the man, “One kiss, okay?”

Choso’s nodding eagerly, “Okay.”

The two of you are leaning in, anticipation bubbling in the pits of both of your stomachs as your lips gaze his and he gets the faintest touch of your skin— only to be interrupted by the sudden buzzing of your phone in your pocket.

You pull away and glance down and Choso swears his eye twitches. He was so close, he almost felt your lips again, your pretty soft and heaven-sent lips almost touched his, and yet someone had the nerve to interrupt.

Choso groans and you try to reach in your pocket for your phone but he suddenly smacks your hand away and reaches in your pocket himself.

You frown, “Choso-“

“Who’s callin’ us?” He cuts off. He sounds more pissed off than he was earlier.

The second his eyes lay on the contact written across your screen, he scoffs. The timing couldn’t have been better.

You move to try and see what he’s looking at but Choso shifts his hand on you and pushes your body away.

“Choso what the hell? Who’s calling-“

“You said I’ve been too jealous of a boyfriend, right?” Choso interrupts, his lips curving into a faint smirk before he lifts his gaze to you.

You nod slowly and wearily, “Y-Yeah, but what does that have to do with whoever’s calling m-“

“I’ll answer it for you, baby,” Choso says sweetly before flashing you a smile.

Your brows pinch together and you blink, “Who is it-“

He ignores your question and lifts the phone to his ear, “Hello?”

Someone speaks back to him but you’ve got no idea who.

“Ohhh, you called on accident? Yeah, no, I get that, happens to the best of us,” Choso hums with a shrug.

He seems all too calm and casual about this so you’re mentally trying to figure out who the hell could’ve called you to where your boyfriend is talking so calmly.

You just stand and watch in confusion for a minute as he continues his conversation.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Choso chuckles a bit but there’s a slight vein peeping against his jawline, “Nah man you’re fine. Actually, since I’ve got you on the phone, can I ask you somethin’?”

Your eyes widen and your heart is beating all over the damn place. Slowly, you try to get closer to your boyfriend, “Choso, who-“

He cuts you off by placing a single finger to your lips, quite literally shushing you. You’re taken back by his action and ticked off by his rude gesture.

“You used to fuck my girlfriend, right?” The man questions bluntly. Your entire face gets hot and you’re not sure if that’s because you’re pissed off or because you’re flustered.

Who the hell could he be talking to? Suguru? No, Choso doesn’t get along with him that well… Who else has your number that you’ve-

Gojo.

Your eyes go wide and you move to reach for your phone and snatch it from Choso’s hand but he swiftly and smoothly evades your attempt, mockingly scoffing at you.

“Choso what the hell is wrong with you? Give me my phone-“

Your boyfriend smiles at you. He finds entertainment in how ticked off you are and it only makes you angrier. Especially when he shakes his head no and moves away from you.

Then he has the nerve to laugh, “Yes, I do know the answer to that already. But my question still stands and I’d like to hear it from you since I have you on the phone,” Choso speaks.

You’re still following him around and trying to get your phone from him but he just moves and weaves all of your reaches.

“Yeahh see? There’s the confidence I was lookin’ for,” He says to the male over the phone, “So…” Choso makes eye contact with you and your heart sinks as his words come out, “Wanna do it again?”

The man on the call chokes on air so loudly that even you hear it despite not being near the phone. Then you hear a nervous chuckle, one that’s all too familiar to you.

You fold your arms at your boyfriend, who simply winks at you. “Choso, what are you-“

“Shut up,” He says to you sternly, “You said I’m too jealous of a boyfriend so now I’m trying to change that.”

“By being a fuckin’ asshole?” You spit out to him, both confused and annoyed by everything right now.

“No,” Choso negates, smiling sweetly at you again, “By calling someone over to please my pretty lil’ girlfriend since she won’t let me do it.”

You blink, “What? Choso-“

“Huh? What was that?” He interrupts, his attention back on the phone call, “Yes I was being serious. I-, oh…” His expression dips a little, “T-There’s a word for that kinda thing?”

You wish you could hear the entirety of this conversation because you’re so confused as to where this is going.

“Ohhh, then yeah,” Choso nods his head and looks at you with a smile, “I guess you could call me that—,” Something is said over the phone and he laughs, “What? No, she doesn’t know. Or, she didn’t know but, she’ll find out soon enough right?”

“Find out what soon enough-,” He starts walking away from you and you move to follow him, “Choso!”

You’re ignored as his conversation continues and eventually, Choso walks into his bedroom, shuts the door in your face, and locks it.

You stand there for a while staring at the door in disbelief of your boyfriend. What the hell just happened? What the actual fuck is going on??

You go to knock on the door, “Choso, open the door!” You shout.

The sound of him still chatting it up with Gojo over the phone is heard and you’re feeling all too many emotions at once. From annoyance to anger to confusion and even very faint arousal, you were completely baffled.

Another groan pours from your lips and after beating your hand against the door for maybe five minutes or so, awaiting some kind of response from your boyfriend, you just give up and stomp off.

Annoyed beyond belief, you make your way back into the living room, grab his things, and toss them onto the floor before plopping down on the couch.

You hastily grab the nearby remote and press play on the TV, bringing your thumb to your lip and chewing on your nail a bit as you try to distract yourself from whatever the fuck your lovely boyfriend is talking about with Gojo Satrou.

Somewhere deep down, you think you’re thankful Gojo called when he did because you almost kissed Choso again and you knew you’d let him take things further if he wanted to. If Choso thinks he’s deprived, he’s got another thing coming because you’ve been aching for it.

Doesn’t he know it’s just as difficult for you not to touch him as it is for him not to be touched? Does he not realize how much of a tease he can be? How in the middle of the night, he’d snuggle into your back and his crotch would press into your ass? Waking you up horny and frustrated?

You scoff. Choso doesn’t even realize how whenever he comes home from his job, he looks so stupidly handsome undressing himself— slight grunts and groans leaving those soft lips of his as he does so.

Then, even when you were hugging him, he’d bury his face into the crook of your neck and his every exhale and inhale made your heart skip a beat.

Oh and let’s not forget how simple phone calls and text messages were enough to get you worked up. It’d be so random too how Choso would text you as you’re in class. Something simple like Baby I miss you would have your heart throbbing and your smile unwavering.

There was one weekend where Choso left town to go visit his two younger brothers and he called you late that night. His voice was deep, husked even, and his breathing was a bit unsteady as he told you he was trying to go to sleep but he couldn’t because he started thinking about you…

Thus leading to him with a painful boner. Then, to make matters worse, not only did he end up sending you a video of what you do to him even when you’re not around but, he had the nerve to return home that week looking fucking perfect.

His face had seemed clearer, his skin was as smooth as ever, he smelled heavenly, and of course— of course Choso decided to come home and touch all over your body, claiming to have missed you terribly.

He was such a fucking tease. And he knows it too, Choso knows what he does to you. He sees it in your face all the time— hears it in your voice.

Which is all exactly why he couldn’t bear with you reducing your touches. That’s what caused the argument today as he came home.

Normally, if you were at Choso’s apartment when he got off of work, which you have been more-so in the past few months, you’d rush to him and greet him at his door. Before the sex-ban, you’d help him undress and smother his face in kiss after kiss, telling him how much you missed him, etc.

And of course he appreciated this more than anything. Hence why he’d constantly note that because you do little things like that, he swears to put a ring on your finger if you’d let him.

Even so, ever since you told Choso you weren’t gonna have sex with him for a while, you stopped doing so. Which is all why he’s upset and you’re frustrated. Maybe you should just drop the sex-ban…

Or maybe just touch him more like he wants and learn some self-control. But, it’s not like it’s your fault your boyfriend is so irresistible. How are you supposed to keep your hands off him-

There’s a sudden knock on the front door and you flinch out of your thoughts. You’d been so caught up with them that you hadn’t even realized thirty minutes had gone by and you still didn’t have your phone, nor did Choso come out of his room.

Instead of moving a muscle, you groan, “Cho, someone’s at the door!”

There’s no response for a minute and your groan deepens as you toss your head back against the couch and frown.

“Choso!” You shout, voice projecting throughout his apartment.

“What?!” He shouts back from his bedroom.

You turn your head toward the direction of his hallway, “There’s someone at the door!”

Neither of you has moved an inch and both of you are just shouting across his home, “You can’t answer it?” He asks.

“You’re closer!” You argue.

Choso chuckles and then his voice gets a bit louder as he cracks his door open to yell, “It’s for you anyway!”

“I-,” You blink and then let off a scoff as you spring up from the couch, “Tch, it’s for you anyway…” You say under your breath, mocking your boyfriend in an annoyed tone.

Everything he was doing was pissing you off and you had half a mind to head back to your apartment. Every step you took was heavy and you wanted Choso to hear how agitated you were.

“Can’t even answer the fuckin’ door…” You grumble to yourself as your hand reaches for the knob, unlocks the door, and goes to open it, “…Getting on my goddamn-,” You swing the door open and your eyes immediately widen, “…N-Nerves,” You whisper out to finish your statement.

In front of you stands Gojo Satoru. All six foot three of him, bright fluffy white hair, black t-shirt, grey sweatpants, angelically handsome face, and stupid rose-tinted lips pulled into a smug grin standing right in front of you.

You had to blink once, maybe twice-, perhaps three or four times to figure out if you were seeing things before you scoff, “Satoru?”

Cocking his head to the side, “Trouble in paradise?” Gojo comments in response, voice just as playful as you remember it.

“W-What the fuck are you doing here?” You breathe out, brows tensing and confusion taking over.

Gojo’s shoulders lift into a casual shrug, “I was invited, duh.”

You stare. Then, slowly and carefully, you start nodding as you move to shut the door on him. Maybe you were dreaming?

A hand is pressed to the edge of the door, an arm nearing your head as this hand comes from behind you, and the door is pulled open. You instantly jump as your boyfriend seemed to have simply appeared right behind you and you swear your heart was pounding out of your chest.

Lips near your ear and Choso’s voice is smooth as he speaks to you, “C’mon baby, don’t be rude to our guest,” He murmurs to you, deep voice caressing your eardrums and making you lose all your thoughts for a moment.

You quickly snap out of it and whirl your head around to look at the dark-haired man, “Choso, what the hell is going on-“

“Oh c’monnn,” Gojo suddenly speaks, “You heard your boyfriend,” He chuckles and you turn to him, eyes going wide as he leans down to you, “Don’t be rude to your guest,” Gojo murmurs.

He was so close that you could smell the faint mint coming from his mouth. His proximity worried you and you stepped back, only to run into Choso and your entire backside to bump into him. Your boyfriend places a hand on your waist and tugs you back a bit to give space for Gojo to walk in.

Never in your life have you been more confused than you are as you watch Gojo Satoru enter your boyfriend Choso’s apartment.

Then, Choso leans over just a little so that he can shut the door but he doesn’t move from behind you. Your eyes are all over Gojo’s face, asking him a million questions with your gaze alone.

Gojo starts snickering, “Sweets, if you have a question, just ask-“

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You blurt out, tone heated before you proceed to give him no time to respond. You’re then turning to Choso, “What the hell is going on?”

Your boyfriend stares at you innocently, “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yeah, you’re a smart girl, you can figure it out,” Gojo chastises.

You swear you’re about two seconds away from popping a blood vessel. An arm of yours moves to shove Choso away from you and you scoff, “First off, fuck both of you. Start explaining yourselves, now.” You huff out sternly.

Choso flashes a sheepish grin, “I already explained everything to you, why are you confused-“

“You were being serious?!” You shout, “You seriously called Satoru over to fuck me?! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You said I was too jealous of a boyfriend so I invited him to prove to you that I’m not,” Choso tells you, the look on his face completely serious.

You couldn’t believe him right now. Not only were you feeling embarrassed having Gojo stand here and listen to you and Choso bicker like an old married couple but you were also fuming with your boyfriend.

“W-What?!” You huff out.

Choso gives you this blank stare he knows pisses you off, “I don’t understand why you’re confused.”

“You don’t understand why I’m-,” You cut yourself off with a sigh and move to pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers, “Choso Kamo, this is the kinda thing you talk about with your girlfriend beforehand.”

“Are we not talking about it now?” He argues, moving to fold his arms across his chest and tilt his head.

You glare at him for a moment before glancing back to Gojo. Then, you chuckle in an annoyed manner, “We shouldn’t be talking about this in front of… him.”

“Him?” Gojo pouts, “Hey, I have a name y’know-“

“Satoru shut the hell up. You will be dealt with, just give me a moment,” You cut off warningly. Turning back to look at Choso, “As for you, I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into you but we’re not doing this.”

Choso raises a brow, “Not doing what baby?”

“I’m not about to…” Your face twists up in disapproval, “…To cheat on you just so you can prove some stupid point-“

“Why not?” Your boyfriend asks nonchalantly.

“What do you mean why not? Choso what even possessed you to invite Satoru over?”

“I literally told you why already,” He says bluntly, “I wanna prove I’m not the jealous dickhead you keep making me out to be.”

Your brows raise, “And you wanna prove that by making me have sex with another man in front of you?”

“First off, I’m not gonna make you do anything,” Choso clarifies, “Secondly, yes, I do want you to have sex with another guy just to prove a point.”

“You’re crazy. I mean, Cho, you can’t be serious about this-,” You cut yourself off as you just barely glance down— spotting something that makes you eat your words. “Oh… Oh wow. You-, you’re…” You stammer as your lashes bat in disbelief.

Choso scoffs, “Yeahh… Still don’t believe me?”

“Why’re you…” Your brows furrow as you stare at the bulge in your boyfriend’s sweats, “D-Did just the thought of me and Satoru having sex in front of you get you like that?” You ask softly as you point.

Gojo suddenly pops his head over your shoulder and you flinch as he speaks, “Damnnnn, you seriously are a cuck,” He chuckles out.

Then his hands slither onto your waist and your entire body tenses up. Swallowing, you turn your head to Gojo and glare at him, “Don’t touch me.”

Blue eyes meet yours and he smirks, peeling his hands off your body but keeping his face close, “He wants me to.”

“Well, I don’t. I haven’t agreed to any of this yet-“

“Yet?” Both of the men point out in sync.

You swallow, “I-I mean, I… I wish you two would’ve given me some time to… t-to y’know, wrap my head around this,” You stammer out.

Having your stupidly attractive boyfriend and the annoyingly handsome Gojo Satoru in the same room, both taunting and teasing you was unbearably nerve-wracking.

Slowly, you look over to your boyfriend, “You really want me to-“

“Yes baby,” Choso cuts off.

“What’s even in this for you… aside from,” Your eyes narrow down at his boner, “A-Aside from getting off to this twisted fantasy of yours?”

He snickers, “Uh, I’ll be off of sex-ban after this.”

Your brows pinch together and you fold your arms, “Says who?”

“Baby, the point of the sex-ban was to teach me a lesson about bein’ jealous,” Choso explains, stepping closer to you. Your body was steadily heating up since Gojo was right behind you and Choso was nearing you, “Consider this my lesson learned.”

You scoff, “…Even if I did agree to this…” Slowly, you turn back to Gojo and his face is far closer than you anticipated it to be, his lips nearly on yours as your head turned, “A-Are you seriously okay with this, Cho?”

Gojo’s hands are placed onto your waist yet again but this time, you don’t push him off or tell him to move. You stare into those pretty blue eyes of his and watch as he smiles.

“He’s more okay with this than you think,” Gojo murmurs to you, tilting his head in a way that makes it seem like he was readying himself to kiss you.

You stare at Gojo for a second longer than you mean to before turning to look at your boyfriend once more and god damn his pupils are dilated and you swear his cock has doubled in size beneath his clothes.

Oh he was extremely serious about this.

Choso chuckles, “I can’t exactly fake my dick bein’ hard, can I? What more proof about this do you need to see I’m serious?”

“S-So… if I sleep with Gojo… you want the sex-ban to be over?” You ask for clarification as you glance back and forth between Choso’s left and right eyes.

“Mhm,” He nods at you, “And my point will be proved.”

“Right…” You look at Gojo again and his lips are a hair’s length away from yours at this point, “A-And you… you’re okay with this?”

“What kinda’ question is that?” The white-haired man laughs, “In what universe would I pass up the opportunity to fuck you again?”

You frown a little but, you’re no longer shying away from this, “Satoru… T-This is so wrong-“

“Is it any more wrong than the things I’ve had you do before?” He whispers lowly to you, low enough for Choso to miss what he uttered.

You swallow thickly at his words, “W-Well… yes, yes it is. I’m cheating on-“

“Is it really cheating if he wants you to do it?” Gojo argues.

You pout, “Yes-“

“No, no it’s not,” He interrupts while flashing a comforting smile at you.

“Satoru-“

“Can you two stop arguing and just make out already,” Choso groans, “I’m gonna blow my load before we even get to the good part…”

Gojo chuckles and lifts a careful hand to the side of your face, cupping your cheek in his palm as he pulls you close, “Well, sweetheart? Your boyfriend’s gettin’ needy.”

You shake your head slowly and your gaze falls to Gojo’s lips, “…This is so wrong.”

“Yeah,” Gojo murmurs back before pecking your lips, you sigh immediately and Gojo whispers against you, “But he likes it.”

There’s one last lingering look shared between you and Gojo before he gently presses his lips to yours again, feeling as you sigh against him and just barely ease into this. After all, it was different and weird to kiss someone who wasn’t your boyfriend after a wonderful ten months of dating him.

There are a lot of things you could’ve predicted in your future with Choso but this damn sure wasn’t a part of it. No, making out with Gojo Satoru as Choso just watches the two of you was not something you could’ve ever planned for.

Gojo’s taking things slow, melting into your mouth and steadily parting your lips to push his tongue inside as you hum against him. Choso was losing his mind. Yeah, from the second he saw the way Gojo looked at you, his cock sprung up.

Did he understand why? Not exactly, no. Hell, only about forty-five minutes ago did Choso learn of the word cuck and what it means to be one. He’s watching you and Gojo make out for a little bit before his feet move toward the two of you.

Choso nor Gojo miss the way you moan against Gojo’s lips as Choso presses his own into your neck. Oh. You were about to experience both of these men at the same time? Gojo and Choso. Gojo Satoru and Choso Kamo. To what being must you thank for such a heavenly experience? Your possessive boyfriend and your obsessive ex-lover (if you can even call him that).

Your boyfriend begins to suck on the side of your neck as you hum and squirm in between the two men. Gojo’s got his large hands firmly placed on your waist and you whine into his mouth as Choso moves to kiss under your jaw. With Gojo behind you and Choso now in front of you, you couldn’t possibly wrap your head around the fact that you were being sandwiched between these two men.

Handling either of them one at a time was already too much for you and yet here you were having to deal with both. You feel Gojo’s clothed cock press into your ass and he groans into your mouth before pulling away, both of you making low-lidded eye contact.

“Satoru,” You whisper.

He hums, “Shit-, this is hotter than I thought it’d be.”

Choso’s busy sucking at your neck before he pulls away with a loud pop, his breathing heavy against your skin as you grow hazy in lust. Then, he wipes his mouth off and takes a step back, “Baby…”

You turn your head to him with wide eyes, your lips prettily messy with saliva from Gojo’s tongue and fuck if Choso didn’t find you sexier than ever. Your brows raise innocently and he smirks at you.

“Can you do somethin’ f’me?” Choso hums out. You try moving toward him but Gojo tugs you back and Choso chuckles, “Don’t worry, I don’t want you to touch me yet,” Your boyfriend explains, “I want you to take care of our guest first, can you do that?”

Your eyes widen and you glance behind you and up at Gojo who flashes you a smile, “Yeah, can you take care of me, sweetheart?”

Gulping, you fein cluelessness, “T-Take care of you how…”

“Oh don’t act dumb,” Choso scoffs.

Gojo snickers, “Right, don’t act dumb…” He coos at you.

You pout and glance back over to your boyfriend, “I’m not actin’ dumb… I just want you guys to tell me what you want me to do…”

“Oh?” Choso raises a brow, “So you’re done actin’ like a brat now, huh?”

“I-I wasn’t acting like a brat earlier, you were just being an asshole,” You huff out before rolling your eyes and looking off to the side.

Gojo quirks a brow, “That’s no way to talk to your boyfriend, now is it?” He murmurs to you, causing a chill to slip down your spine.

“But…” Your lashes flutter, “He was being a fucking asshole-”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on ya’...” Gojo interrupts.

Choso suddenly nods, “Yeahh… She does, doesn’t she?” You swallow hard as your boyfriend voices his thoughts, “Why don’t you shut it up?” He suggests.

A hand is placed on your jaw and your face is tugged so that you’re looking at Gojo again, his fingers digging into your cheeks, “I should, shouldn’t I?” He teases, shifting to run his thumb over your lower lip, “She talks way too much anyway.”

“E-Excuse me-“

“She can’t talk when she’s got a mouth full of cock though,” Choso comments.

You swallow down whatever argument you were going to spit out to these two men.

Gojo smirks, “Good point…” He hums before slipping his thumb past your lips, “But, that’s probably what she wants anyway.”

“Think so?” Choso hums, smiling a little.

Gojo nods, “Know so.”

“Okay well, who are we to deny her of such a thing?” Your boyfriend shrugs casually.

“Exactly,” Gojo agrees before placing his attention back on you, “Is that what you want, love? Hm? S’that why you’ve been such a fuckin’ brat? Y’need someone to put you back in your place?”

Yet another pout pulls at your lips, “I wasn’t-“

“Aht, aht, none of that,” Gojo interjects, scoffing at you and finding your expression cute, “It’s yes or no, sweetheart.”

“Y-Yes,” You stammer in response.

He bites down on his lower lip, “Yeah?”

Before you can even nod, your boyfriend’s making your fluster state ten times worse, “Yes what, princess?”

“Yes please…” You whine.

“Be specific,” Choso demands, voice low, “C’mon, tell Satoru what you want.”

“I…” You gulp, “I want you to…”

“Aww don’t be shy, s’just me, sweets,” Gojo coos, his voice gentle.

You were losing your mind right now. Gojo being so careful with you while Choso forces you to voice your needs? Oh you’re not making it through the rest of this interaction, or at least, not in one piece and not mentally okay by the end of it.

“I want you to put me in my place ‘Toru,” You finally manage out.

Gojo hums deeply, “In front of your boyfriend? Seriously?” He teases as he moves the hands on your waist to spin you around. Then he tugs your body up against his, “You really are a lil’ slut, aren’t you?”

Your face twists up a little before you glance back to Choso who gives you a reassuring look— telling you through his eyes that this was okay.

After which, you look at Gojo again and nod, “Yeah.”

He chuckles before bending down a little and then lifting you into the air, your legs wrapped around him as he does so, “Well, if you insist. I guess I’ll have to start by punishing this mouth of yours for bein’ so mean to your boyfriend.”

You frown as you disagree with the claim of you being mean to Choso, “I-“

“Don’t act like that’s not what you’ve been wanting anyway,” Choso adds as he watches Gojo carry you past him. He trails behind the two of you, “I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at me lately, baby. You’ve been itchin’ to suck me off… Buuut since you put me on sex-ban, I guess that’ll have to do, right?”

You send the man a look and he smiles at you, completely obsessed with teasing you through this whole thing.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Choso hums as you, him, and Gojo enter the living room, “You said you’d take care of our guest first, remember?”

“Yeah, sweets,” Gojo chimes in— God the way they keep doing that is getting on your nerves-, “I can’t wait to put my cock down your throat.”

Okay, by this point, you were beyond pooling in your underwear and it doesn’t get any better as Gojo takes a seat on the couch with you sliding into his lap, his erection poking up against your cunt as you sit comfortably. Then there’s Choso who takes a seat not too far away from the two of you, his cock aching for some kind of attention.

One last time, you glance at your boyfriend, and then at Gojo, and then you sigh.

This was really about to happen-

There’s a soft tap to your ass by Gojo, “Don’t start zonin’ out now,” He hums.

Then Choso’s talking again, “Yeah baby, hurry up ‘nd get on your knees— I wanna see how well you suck another guy off.”

Yeah, this was about to be a long night…

part two

tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

[h3catee]

Introductions Are in Order

Paring: Robert Reynoldsx Fem!Witch Reader! Past Avenger!  

Summary: Bucky asks a favor of you and ends up getting you entangled with one of Valentinas ploys. 

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS*,  talks of mental health, depression, anxiety. Some violence (bc its marvel), some language. Trauma. Angst. Decent amount of Hurt/ With some comfort! 

Word count: 2.7k

AN: Hi! Welcome to my fic! this is probably multi part idk my plans yet. I'm leaning more towards multi-part bc I'm usually a chapter by chapter writer so there isn’t a lot of Bob in this one but I hope its a good intro to maybe a 2-3 parts. I literally fell in love with Bob's character during Thunderbolts and this man gave me motivation to write again. I didn't have a Beta reader for this one so pls forgive any grammer or silly mistakes. Forewarning (y/n)’s powers based off of the Marvel character Morgan le Fay just to throw that out there, she’s definitely not Wanda but definitely not Morgan. Think morally gray/ hates everyone except like 3 people/ witch trained by the past avengers. Next part will have more Bob I promise, just wanted to introduce the story here >:3

Song for the chapter: https://open.spotify.com/track/09fDemXgXzRReTfb7UWxjD?si=7e0b5d606b824813 

xoxox

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“I need your help with something.” 

You sighed heavily before responding, “Hello to you too Senator Barnes!” You heard the man grumble from the other phone line. 

“You know I hate when you call me that,” Bucky said. 

“Well…what do you want, Buck?” You said, rolling your eyes. You look around your empty apartment for something to fidget with while Bucky chews your ear off about calling him another stupid nickname. 

“Y/N, Valentina’s got this guy apparently named Bob-” 

“Bob?” You ask, cutting him off. Who names their kid Bob in this day and age? 

“Yes, Bob! I’m with Nat’s sister and she said we have to go get him because he’s part of some Sentry project,” He explained, voices yelling at him in the background of the phone call. “Can you just meet us at the tower?” 

A wave of nausea rolled over you, “The tower? Bucky, I don't go around there anymore.” 

“I know, but I wouldn’t be calling you if I had anyone else to call.” 

“How nice,” you taunt. You were never any of the Avengers first calls. To be fair you weren’t sure if it is because they were scared of you or your lack of social skills. “Also Nat’s sister?” 

“Later,” Which means he says he’ll tell you later but in reality he’s never going to bring it up again unless you find the answer yourself. 

You sigh, walking over to the bookshelf in your apartment that’s filled with books, both regular and magical, and pictures. Your hand brushes across a photo of yourself, Steven Strange, and Wanda, “I don’t fight anymore Bucky. You couldn’t just ask Sam?” 

“He’s uhmm..busy,” He answered, “I know how you’re feeling y/n.” 

“You don’t,” You interrupt. How could he possibly understand how you’re feeling when he barely reaches out to you unless he needs something. Him and the rest of the remaining team abandoned you, after Wanda, you had no one to turn to. You felt the all too familiar dull ache in your chest. You chewed on the skin around your nails waiting for Bucky to respond. 

“ I think we need you for this one.” Which means in Bucky terms that whoever they are fighting is a mutant and something he can’t fight. 

“Fuck,” You mutter to yourself. 

Ever since Wanda vanished you refused to step back out on the field.She was the only one that truly knew what you were capable of considering she was the one that found you all those years ago. Not even Thor, a god, could hold you back during training sessions and the only avenger to understand your pain was Wanda. And now she’s- 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to ground yourself. You haven’t been able to sense her magic anywhere. No matter what realm you went to, you couldn’t find her. 

Fuck you Bucky Barnes. 

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“She already knows we’re here,” You try to explain to the group in front of you. Bucky gave you and the rest of the team a run down of Sentry and what Mel, Valentinas assistant, told him about Bob. That doesn’t stop them from driving a truck through the lobby destroying the front of the building in the process, “Awesome,” You have no choice but to join the fight to defend the group. Defense only, you tell yourself 

While Walker has his back turned, a soldier on the ground fires a few stray bullets, you toss your hand up and redirect the shots to the wall behind him, “Watch yourself walker,” You growled. Before he could reply you went back to the fight. Using your magic to cast illusions into the minds of the soldiers fighting to give the group an advantage when attacking.

“I just had that drywall put in. You can just come up, you know that right.” Valentina’s voice rang out over the intercoms, “But I know you knew that already y/n. Come on up!” 

Yelena and Ava looked at you, knowing you had previously stated that and they had just refused to listen. You just rolled your eyes at them before motioning them to go in the elevator. 

“You are not coming,” Yelena asked as the group of 5 squeezed into the elevator. 

You shake your head before pointing up. You close your eyes and feel the familiar stomach reeling feeling of teleporting to where the penthouse once was. Where you shared few but long lasting memories. Your eyes wander across the empty walls and fairly empty room before you look at Val. 

“Ah! Y/N, so lovely to see you darling. You see I’ve always wanted to work with you,” The woman said. 

“Can’t say the same,” You said in a sarcastic tone. 

“Hmm, well maybe he’ll change your mind.” You just raise an eyebrow.

You don’t have the chase to question her because Bucky and the team come through the elevator doors ready to arrest her for crimes. You look between each person and back to Valentina, honestly not sure what is going on. 

That's when you feel it. A humming. Power. You look around only to notice no one else in the “Thunderbolts”, as Alexie is calling them, notices it. You try to pinpoint a mind to tap into to find where this power is from but you can’t, a black shadow blocking you out. Shit. 

“Meet Sentry.” 

You look up to where a man is clothed in a…ugly suit, with unnaturally yellow blonde hair. 

“Hey guys,” He greats. You study him for a second, the power dripping off of him but there's something else there, something all too familiar. You try to invade his mind but there's something keeping you out. You pull and claw at the black void keeping you out. 

“Y/n.” You vacate the attempt on his mind and meet his eyes. You cock your head to the side, he knows what you were doing, “That won’t work,” his voice coming out cautious. 

“Take care of them Robert,” Valentina orders. 

“I don’t want to hurt you guys,” Bob says, looking around at all of them in front of him, “Please just give yourselves in.” 

“Wait-” Yelena tries to interrupt. 

Alexie yells before running towards the man. Instead of following the rest of the team you stand back and observe. Everything they throw at him gets blocked or countered. Teleportation. Flight. Strength.

Bucky shoots at Bob only for the bullets to be sprayed back at him and Walker. You hold your hand up blocking the bullets and directing them towards the already broken window. Thats when Sentry notices you. 

“I knew I liked her,” Walker says to Bucky, getting ready to fight again. 

“Wanda’s not here to save you this time.” 

You barely move after hearing the voice in your head when the rest of the Thunderbolts move to attack Bob. You shake your head as if to clear your thoughts but you feel his eyes on you. Instead of the blue you saw earlier, Bob’s eyes have a golden hue. 

“She left you, just like you told her to.” 

“Stop,” You whisper to yourself, rage boiling beneath your skin. 

The fight breaks out and you watch as Bob grabs Bucky's Arm. 

“God damnit,” You whisper, before running towards the two to save Bucky. Bob tosses Bucky to the side, his arm now torn off. You shot a blast of energy towards him only for him to teleport out of the way. I don’t want to hurt you, You try to telepathically tell him. 

“You can’t hurt me,” He says aloud. 

“Says who,” You taunt. Your feet leave the floor before you can’t register your rage taking over. Blast after blast and nothing is hitting him. 

He teleports in front of you and grabs your neck. What he doesn’t expect is to look behind you and see a beach. A sunset. He furrows his brows as he looks around in confusion. 

That gives you enough time to grab his wrist and teleport out of his grasp. 

The illusion collapses around the two of you as you lose contact. With every fight you’ve been in, usually your opponent will be thrown off once coming out of the illusion but Bob…He raises a hand before you can counter and you slam into the concrete wall of Avengers Tower, the wall cracking behind you. 

 You feel an arm hook under your shoulders and begin to drag you to the elevator which you see is already occupied with the rest of the team besides you and Yelena. “Get off of me,” You grumble. You teleport out of her grasp and out of the tower completely. Your knees are wobbly beneath you and you assess your surroundings. Guard still up. 

“Are you hurt?” You turn and see Bucky running towards you, the rest of the Thunderbolts following in suit. 

“You know I’m not,” You used your magic to heal yourself immediately after the hit, “I tried to help Buck but I’m not strong enough anymore. I’m leaving.” 

“No, let us regroup and we can go back in,” Alexie tries to argue. 

“All of you just got your asses beat, you especially-” 

“Well I am just rusty but now I am ready to go,” The older super soldier bellows. 

You see Yelena put a hand over her eyes. You just laugh out of disbelief and begin to walk down the street. 

“Wait y/n,” Bucky follows after you, “Just wait-” 

You turn, he can feel the rage dripping off of you, “What!” You shout, “What do you want from me?” 

He just stares at you, “I was going to ask if you were okay.” 

You laugh, “Am I okay? God, you should've asked me that when Tony died. Or when I lost Vision and then lost Wanda. Or Nat. Or Steve.” 

“You acted like you didn’t even care about half of the team, what did you expect me to do?” He argues. 

“I didn’t want to hurt any of you!” You exclaim, letting your emotions run wild on the streets of New York, “If you think that up there I used all my power, you're wrong. I didn’t want to hurt any of you so I stayed away.” 

“But Wanda-” 

“But Wanda understood me, more than you or Tony or any of them. You don’t understand what I went through, what I’ve done. Bucky, you don’t know who I really am.” 

There was commotion behind you, taking your concentration away from the conversation. Citizens were pointing up towards the sky. You and Bucky exchange glances before running to where you could have a clear view of what they were looking at. 

A shadow of man floated above Avengers Tower. You watched as he raised a hand and all of a sudden a helicopter came crashing into a crane. Concrete and rubble began to fall from the buildings that were hit. People were screaming. 

Typical avenger in New York occurrence. 

You and Bucky split off to protect the people from being crushed. You used your magic to stop concrete from crushing a family and urged them to get into a building. 

“You’re alone,” You turned to see the man closer to you now. You recognized the voice from just minutes ago, Bob, “You’ve always been alone.” You just stare at him, “It eats you alive doesn’t it, y/n.” 

People are screaming, you turn to look behind you and see shadows of people spread across the floor in dark black smoke. You heart drops, what the fuck is this guy. 

“The pain goes away. Just come with me,” Bob captures your attention once again, “I can make it go away.” 

“How?” You whisper. He reaches a hand out to you. 

“Y/n! Stop!” Bucky shouts behind you but something in your mind is telling you to go. Telling you that everything will stop if you accept his hand. Everything will be quiet. Will the pain finally go away? 

“Y/n,” The distorted voice urges. 

That’s when you close your eyes and walk into the void. 

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You open your eyes and find yourself in an all too familiar room. One lined with archaic symbols preventing you from escaping. Your heart drops because you see yourself, younger, wounded, broken standing on the other side of the room. 

You know this day, you recognize it by the energy alone. This was the first time you killed someone. The first time you disintegrated someone's body and brain. 

“Y/N, Before you is a man who is being convicted of crimes against countless women, including your own mother,” You watched as your younger self balled her hands into fists, “Your task is to eliminate him.” 

Younger you nodded. 

“N-no,” You ran over to where you stood and wrapped your arms around your younger self, “you don’t have to do this,” 

“Get off of me,” Your body is thrown a few feet away from your younger self. That's when you feel it, the pain of a curse of 1000 sharp white-hot knives digging into you, you scream and writhe on the floor. That was your punishment when you were captured, if you ever disobeyed or failed, they cursed you over and over. 

“Stop,” You sob, the curse diminishing, “Stop,” You whisper, tears falling onto the floor beneath you. Your mind whirls and your limbs ache, like you’re gripped by a fever that burns through you like wildfire. 

“Y/n?” A male voice. 

You look towards a doorway where Bob stands, not Sentry, not Void but Bob. You squeeze your eyes shut to stop crying. 

“Oh god, I-I’m so sorry,” He runs over to you, “I-I can’t stop it,” He apologized. 

“I don’t understand,” Your voice comes out as a whisper, “What is this?” You finally sit up and watch the rest of the scene play out in front of you. 

You watch as younger you raises her hand towards the man and he begins to scream in agony. You watch as his skin flairs and melts. 

“Don’t look,” Bob urges, grabbing your arm and pulling your attention from the memory. There are tears in his blue eyes. He has brown hair now instead of the fake gold that Val gave him. He’s clothed in a sweater and tan pants. He honestly looks like he’s going to pass out. “I can’t do anything right, I’m so sorry,” He mumbles, “I-I don’t even know you and you’re stuck here with me. It’s this��void.” 

“How do we get out?” You ask, looking down to study your shaking hands. 

“I-I don’t know. There’s different rooms and each one just gets worse. I’m so sorry Y/n,” He begins to cry. Your heart shatters for a moment thinking about what he must go through if he deals with this constantly, now with the serum it must have fully taken over him. 

“Let’s just get out okay,” You place your hand on his thigh and he tenses beneath you. You squeeze his leg in reassurance before standing up, “P-please don’t tell anyone what you saw, I-I can’t. No one knows.” 

“I won’t, Why would I tell them?” He asks sincerely. All you can do is nod, “Y-you can trust me.” Once again, you just nod. 

“Do you think everyone else is in here?” You ask, trying to change the topic. 

“M-maybe,” He saying, shrinking in on himself. 

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m fine. We’ll all be fine,” You soothe, “Let’s just find them.” 

Thats how you ended up finding the team, fighting Bob in a chicken outfit, and getting out of the void. Only to have Valentina throw a new title on the group right after. 

The New Avengers. Including you. Awesome. 

And that’s how you ended up here, living in the tower after some much needed renovations. Bob didn’t remember anything after the Void incident but something told you to tell him. So you showed him through your magic. He apologized profusely to the team and kept his distance since then. Honestly, he reminds you a lot of yourself when you first joined the Avengers with Wanda. But you refuse to let him fall into that dark of a hole like you did. 

You want to save someone for yourself, for once. You want to save him. 

part two!

[lillypad910]

Pass Her Over

Pairing: Big Dick! Billy Hargrove x Whore! f! Reader

Warnings: Smut! Filth, literal filth, slut shamming, p n v, oral (m receiving), unprotected and protected sex (wrap it up pls), "pet" names (Doll face, Baby, slut, whore, bitch). Let me know if i missed something. This isn't pre-read, may have errors.

Summary: You are the school's slut. All the guys have at least fucked you once. You enjoy it, the attention, the play, all of it. Billy is the new "It" boy, the new King of Hawkins. Just makes sense he comes to proposition you eventually.

A/n: The purring is loud with this one...

You lay out over one of the benches in the boys locker room, your skirt hiked up as Jason thrusts into your cunt. You moan as you feel him twitch inside you.

“Fuck, you feel so good…” Jason groans into your ear, leaning over you.

“So good, Jason. Fuck- just like that,” you encourage him, humping your hips back into his.

You are the whore of Hawkins High, if one of the boys needs to let off steam, you were the one to go to. You were everyone’s dream fuck, and you weren’t hard to get either. You’ve fucked every guy on the basketball team, except one. The new guy.

You don’t know much about him, other than his name is Billy and apparently he’s a total douche. You were going to probably meet him tonight at Tommy’s party.

You both finish, Jason discarding the condom while you pull back up your underwear. You both leave separately out back into the school, being sure not to get seen together.

You meet up with Carol and Vicki, who stand out in the hall. “He’s got some tutor session…” you catch Carol say as rolls her eyes.

“Who?” You ask, moving closer to the group of seniors you associate with.

“Tommy. He said he has a tutor now, for Chemistry. And he’s having to meet up with them during lunch today so he can’t sit with us.” She explains, sounding agitated.

“That sucks.” “Yeah, and not to mention you can’t! You have your cheer thing, which means it’s just Vicki, Tina, Nicole, and I with the new guy.” Carol groans, “which I guess is fine because he’s hot, but damn.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that!” You try to change the topic, “He’s hot? Did you two already see him today?” Carol and Vicki make eye contact because turning to you.

“Smoking. That man is a meal. (Y/n), you have to tell us how he is when you fuck him.” You sigh.

“‘When?’” You question.

“Bitch, yes! When! I need to know the details, unless Nicole can dive in first.” Carol mentions which gets Nicole’s attention.

“Maybe, god would I give to ride that man…” “Nicki!” Carol smacks her shoulder, causing the group to giggle.

“Well, I have to go, my uh… practice start soon.” You explain before walking off.

You weren’t totally lying, the cheerleaders of the Junior class were getting together during this lunch period to practice some more, but that wasn’t what you were doing.

You step into the boy’s bathroom connected to the gym, only to get yanked by your next fuck into one of the stalls. “Tommy! Jesus Christ, you scared me!” You smack him on the arm.

“Sorry, god I just couldn’t wait any longer, Carol is great, and I love her. But you are just too good to pass up.” He locks the stall door before picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he shoves your back into the door.

It doesn’t take long before your underwear is dangling on your thigh as you holding the top of the door as his cock drills into your needy cunt. You enjoy it, your cunt still a bit raw from the fuck it got from Jason.

“You fucked Jason earlier, right? Jackass wouldn’t shut up about it.” Tommy groans.

“Oh yeah? Ah- Is he trying to use me a-as brownie points or-“ you moan as he thrusts harder.

“Guess so. Trying to act all big saying he’s not a loser virgin.” Tommy grabs your hips and yanks you down on his cock, making your toes curl. “Doesn’t know we all fuck you though.”

The rest of the day goes by quick, classes pass by in a blur between your other “appointments.” When the last bell rang you were under the bleachers, two guys fucking you. Your mouth wrapped around one cock while your pussy is fucked by the other. You are dropped quickly when people start talking, walking into the gym. You straighten out your clothes and head out, going home to get ready for the party later.

You get out of the car, straightening out your little dress, wiggling the tight fabric back down your legs. Carol presses the lock button on her keys after the others get out as well. You follow the girls into the house, where Tommy walks up and greets you all, kissing Carol and throwing his arm over her shoulders.

"You girls want anything to drink?" He asks, gesturing to the kitchen with his free hand.

After everyone gives their drink orders, Tommy makes a sophomore get them for you. Before the drinks even make it to your hands, Tommy suddenly gets really excited and runs outside to the backyard. Carol rolls her eyes and you all follow him, only to find him cheering on some guy on the keg. After the guy chugs doing a keg stand, he falls back down with the beer dripping down his chin and onto his exposed chest. Something about it is... hot.

"That's the new guy," Nicole whispers to you, "His name is Billy Hargrove, fucking sexy."

"Have you fucked him yet?" You ask looking over at him, which she just sighs.

"Unfortunately not, but maybe tonight." She gives you a wink before walking over to him. God the look he gives her says everything you need to know about how he is. Toxic men just do something for you.

"Oh! (y/n)!" A very cheerful voice calls out to you which you turn around to see your friend and fellow cheerleader, Chrissy, "have you seen Jason? He said he would be here tonight..." You loop arms with her so she doesn't get lost and look around for her.

"I think I see him over there," you point in the direction of the backdoor, where Andy is clinging onto some whore with Jason just awkwardly standing there.

"Oh, gosh, thank you!" Chrissy runs off to her lover boy.

A good hour into the party someone comes up behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist. "Having fun?" A voice, this time sounding much nicer than Chrissy's, comes from behind you. You don't look over your shoulder, instead you grind your ass into the guy's crotch.

"Better now," You finally look over your shoulder to the guy, shockingly having to look up a good bit to meet his eye. Billy Hargrove now stands with his fingers already tangling into the fabric of your dress on your hip. You don't even react at how the fabric lifts up to your hip, practically flashing your ass to the rest of the party if he wasn't right behind you.

"Oh?" Billy leans down a bit, giving you a little nudge to get walking, leading you away from your friends. "I heard from Tommy that you know how to show a guy a good time, is that true, Doll face?" He lifts his free hand up to your hair, brushing a strand out of your face.

"Maybe," you smirk at him, depends on your definition of 'fun' honestly... personally mine is sex." You are being forward sure, but how where you supposed to act when a new guy with an obvious big dick that you can feel rubbing against your ass propositions you?

"Forward, good. I like a slut who knows what she wants." He squeezes your hip, messaging the fat there. "How about we go upstairs? Tommy says he has a free room for us to use." You nod, letting him lead you, guiding you to the stairs and up them, a few soft moans leaving you when his bulge rubs against you.

You shoves you into the nearest bedroom, which happens to be the master bedroom, and shuts the door by slamming your back into the door, locking it. His hand instantly yanks your dress up over your hips before he shoves his hand down into your panties. His fingers run over your already soaked cunt.

"Fuck, already wet, Slut?" He sinks two fingers into you, earning a beautiful moan from your lips. "Oh yeah? You like when your cunt is used? Like being the girl who gets passed around?" He watching your face twist up as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot.

"Ah-!" You reach for his arm, grabbing it as your legs already buckle, the previous fucks of the day finally catching up.

"Oh, fuck no. Whore needs to be treated like one." Billy scoops you up before throwing you onto the bed. "Strip." His voice is demanding, powerful. You obey him, yanking your dress over your head and pulling down your underwear, kicking them off and onto the floor. "God, look at you. No bra too?" Billy grins, "Are you like this with every guy? Needy for a dick?" Billy unbuckles his belt, yanking it out of the belt loops without any issue.

"Do you talk to all your fucks like this?" you give him a grin. "Cause I really like it." Billy chuckles, pulling off his jacket.

"Be a good bitch and come here." He waves one finger at you, beckoning you to him. You obey, crawling over to him, getting on your knees on the foot of the bed. "Good. Now undo my pants for me." You do so, unbuttoning the jeans on his hips before pulling them down. The tent of his boxers looks even bigger without the heavy denim holding it down.

Fuck, he's got to be huge.

"Go ahead." He stares down at you, not even tilting his head, just watching you with his eyes. You take his words as an ok, reaching up and tugging his boxers down. You don't even flinch when his huge cock springs up at you, smacking your cheek. "Suck it."

You feel your cheeks heat up. You've sucked lots of dicks before, but you've never had one this big. God and he's supposed to go inside you?

"Suck. it." His voice is more firm, catching your attention. You swallow hard before taking the base of his cock in your hands, one hand around it just barely covering the circumference. You take his swollen tip into your mouth, licking the bit of precum that leaks out before slowly moving your head to take in more. Billy groans, the noises he makes not helping your situation as your bare cunt barely rubs against the comforter.

"That's it, Baby. Take it nice and deep." Billy watches you take more of his cock into your mouth, the drool dribbling out from the corner of your lips. He moans, bucking his hips forward which causes you to gag. You try to pull away, but his fingers lace into your hair, pushing his fat cock further down your throat. You feel your eyes water.

"Come on, Bitch. You call this a blowjob? You can take more of me." He shoves your head further onto his cock, your instinct being to grab his muscular leg, trying to brace yourself in some way. You moan, the feeling of your throat being just so full.

"Mmm-!" You gag on him again, but then he starts moving your head for you, thrusting his hips as he fucks your throat so brutally. It feels like you're properly being used. For once you don't have to ask for the guy to be rough.

"That's it, such a good slut, take my cock deep into that used throat." You can hardly breath as he goes faster, your eyes rolling back as you feel your cunt clench around nothing.

Fuck... fuck... Are you actually about to cum from this?

He continues to fuck your throat, his cock twitching as your tongue works skillfully around it.

"Fuck yeah, just like that." His hands yank at your hair, causing you to moan, the small breaths you can get only pushing you closer to coming undone. He thrusts one last time deep into your throat, and you feel your cunt spasm as you cum onto the comforter under you, creating a wet spot. He rips his cock out of your mouth, causing you to gasp for air and collapse onto the bed.

"Shit. Did you cum? Just from sucking my dick?" He grabs your ankles and shamelessly lifts your legs, spreading them wide so he can see the embarrassment of your cunt twitching and dripping. "Shit, look at that." He climbs onto the bed, sitting on his knees as his huge cock slaps down onto your stomach. You moan, his large balls smacked up against your cunt.

"Beg, bitch. Beg for my cock like a good fucking slut." He orders, bucking his hips against you.

"W-Wait, no condom?" You're still trying to catch your breath from sucking that monster. Now he wants to put it in you?

"Don't you wanna feel my cock fill you?" His question is rhetorical, "It feels even better without the condom, plus I always break them anyways. Now, be a good bitch and beg." He orders, moving your ankles to be over your head.

"O-Oh, fuck..." You look down at his fat cock as it rests against your stomach, the swollen tip angry for attention. "Please... God, please, Billy." you can't even believe you're doing it.

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me. Please, ruin me. Please, Billy- Ah!" You gasp as you feel his tip press against your slit.

"Better take it all, bitch." Billy growls at you before thrusting hard. His cock forces inside you, practically ripping you open. "That's it, Slut. Nice and deep." He grips your hips and yanks you down, pressing his body against yours so your legs stay over your head. You feel him. Not like every other guy you've fucked, you fucking feel his cock inside you. Every bump, every vein, shit, every inch, you feel your cunt clenching around him.

You feel yourself going dumb, your eyes flashing with every twitch his cock makes inside you.

"Fuck, look at that." You feel his palm rub over your stomach, looking down to see the bulge his cock is making. "Ever had a guy this deep in you before?"

You don't have time to process the question as he begins thrusting into you, hard and fast. You can't help but just moan and gasp with every tiny movement, so a full thrust feels like fucking heaven.

"Such a good bitch, taking my cock so well." He pushes your legs further down, forcing your hips to push up, giving him better access to you. "Fuck," he pushes down on your stomach, right on top of the bulge his dick is making and that sends you over the edge.

Your cunt spasms, toes curl, tongue hangs out as your head falls back, back arching, god, all the things. You've never cum so hard in your life, but he doesn't stop. He thrusts you through your orgasm, bucking his cock somehow deeper. You can't think, can hardly breath, panting like a bitch in heat as his big, fat cock ruins your cunt.

"Fuck, fuck!" You moan, whimper as you come undone again. Shit, are those stars?

Your vision blurs as you go limp, your mind fucked out as you just try to focus on the feeling of his cock drilling into you.

"Fuck, that's it. Like getting this pussy ruined? Won't be able to take any other cock now, huh, bitch? You'll only be able to get off from mine." He goes harder, faster, causing you to gasp.

"Y-Yes! Hah- Yes!" You feel stupid, your mind not able to focus on words, just his cock. This thick cock drilling into you, ruining you. Filling you oh so well.

"God, look at you. You're going stupid." Billy grins, watching you go dumb on his cock. "Love when this happens. A whore loosing her mind over my dick." He laughs, "Fuck, your pathetic cunt is gonna make me cum." He thrusts faster.

"Do you want me to cum, Bitch? Want me to fill your filthy cunt up with my cum?" He thrusts harder, hitting so deep you can feel his cock pounding against your cervix. "Gonna fill you up, you whore. You fucking whore, gonna knock you up with my kid. You'd like that, though wouldn't you? Being my pregnant bitch living off my cock." You feel his cock twitching inside you, swelling at the friction. He's gonna cum. He gonna fill you up.

He gives one more good thrust, hitting his cock as deep as possible before stopping. You feel a warm rush inside you as he finishes. You both sit there for just a moment as he catches his breath, before he finally pulls out of you, his cum leaking from your cunt.

You feel suddenly empty, your poor cunt sore and legs feel like jelly. Oh you aren't gonna be able to stand....

"Shit, you're pathetic. Can't even take a good fucking... How disappointing." He slaps your ass, hard. "Get dressed, we have to go back downstairs and act like nothing happened."

Tag list!

@cagethemunson

@spikeybatt

@cherrycolas-things

@r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e

@ali-r3n

[itneverendshere]

little miss perfect - r.c (+18) - girl who cried wolf

pairing: siren!reader x rafe. warnings: none.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Rafe has been gone for four days.

Not gone gone…simply not home, where you are.

He stays out late, every other day he crashes at Kelce’s, then Topper’s, then someone’s friend’s brother’s place one night.

Rafe spends his time ripping through the island with a blunt always half-lit, always either rolling or sparking.

Anything to keep his mouth and brain busy, void of any remains of your voice or the look on your face when you lied the other day. That quiver in your tone, he knows it was fake; that’s the part that’s stuck in his chest, how easy it was for you.

You got him chewed out by Ward for an entire day, ignored by your dad, and laughed at behind the backs of the guys. All for what?

Fun? Because you were bored? Why the fuck are you still so mean when you want to?

Rafe can’t get the question out of his head. It follows him through every bar, every round of beer pong, and every line blown off some bathroom counter. He tried fucking someone else—some girl, something to get you off his skin—but she touched his neck, and he flinched. Didn’t call her after. 

Now, despite all of it, here he is.

It’s 3:12 in the morning; he’s barefoot in the Tannyhill kitchen, sweatpants slung low, hoodie halfway unzipped, hair a mess, high as fuck, eating leftover pasta straight from the container.

He’s still pissed, wired in all the wrong ways, which explains how he doesn’t hear you coming in at first. 

“Rafe.”

You’re greeting him like you hadn’t gone full fucking sociopath on him the last time you interacted with him.

He turns to see you're also barefoot, standing in the doorway with your hair unkempt and a sleeping t-shirt hanging off one shoulder, not bothering to cover the curve of your ass. Panties lie beneath.

And that smile—tilted...apologetic, if he squinted, but he knows better than to do so.

He chews slower.

You paddle closer.

“Didn’t know you were home.”

“Didn’t know you cared.”

“Don’t be like that.”

Rafe stabs another piece with the fork. “Be like what?”

“Mean.”

He laughs, unbelievably bitter, and it makes your brows twitch.

“You’re calling me mean?”

 You bite your lip, “I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

He drops the fork into the container, metal clanking hard.

“Bullshit.”

You continue. “It was a joke.”

“Yeah.” He steps around the island. “Isn’t it always?”

“Rafe…”

“No, seriously,” He scoffs, the high making his blood overheat. “Let’s talk about it. How everything’s a fucking joke to you. How do you lie to everyone’s face and throw me under the bus for fun? Now you show up in my kitchen at 3am in your underwear?”

He’s still coming down from the joints he smoked, and his throat is dry.

“We have nothing to talk about.”

You take a step forward, your teeth still attacking your lips. 

“Why not?”

“You know what you did.” He snaps, not bothering to look at you.

You exhale and give a hollow chuckle. “Relax. It’s not that serious.”

You have spent years making certain it is, setting fires and dancing around them, and you’re still acting as if he’s the insane one who choked on it.

Rafe is repulsed. 

“Go to bed.”

Of fucking course you don’t go.

“I said,” he repeats, slower this time, “go to bed.”

There’s no threat, it’s a command that doesn’t need to be shouted, because it’s the last one he’s giving.

“No.”

His gaze narrows. “No?”

You pop a grape from the fruit bowl into your mouth.

“Not tired.”

You’re doing the bored act you always pull when someone tells you no.

He makes a menacing step toward you.

“Oh, look at you,” You taunt. “You’re gonna make me?”

Rafe’s hands are balled into fists at his sides. He wants to—God, he wants to shove you back against the cabinets, and prove something.

You don’t run this; you don’t get to lie and play and still have the upper hand.

You’re talking now, something about Sarah, or her shoes, or how the pasta in the fridge tastes weird—voice airy, like you’re not standing in the middle of a war zone.

Rafe gawks at you from across the kitchen, features clenched so hard his teeth hurt, while you keep going. Babbling. Carefree.

His head tips back, letting out a sharp breath, eyes fluttering closed for a second. Perhaps if he doesn't see you, he won't lose it.

You’re behaving as if you didn’t throw him to the wolves and then smile when they bit.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

You finally stop, a dead silence that never comes from you unless it's real.

“I’m not your fucking friend,” he hisses, with fury. “We were never friends. Don’t do that. Don’t stand here talking about shoes and dinner like you didn’t spend the whole fucking week trying to ruin me for fun.”

Your mouth opens, and nothing comes out.

Rafe keeps going.

“You’re mean. And spoiled, and fake, and you never say sorry. You like hurting people; it’s some fucking party trick to you.”

Your jaw tenses, then loosens, but still—nothing.

"I understand now," he continues, chest heaving. “This is who you are. This is what you do: you lie and act like it’s not that deep, and everyone lets you. Even me. I let you. Over and over.”

His fists are clenched, nails digging into his palms. He can’t look at you without wanting to tear down the entire house. Still, you don’t fight back; you’re no longer laughing or rolling your eyes.

It’s the first time in years he’s ever seen you unsure. That shit makes his throat tighten, it means you’re finally listening to him; something's finally landing in that brain of yours.

“I should’ve done this sooner,” Rafe breathes, stepping so close he can see the tremble in your chin. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You want attention—whatever makes you feel like you matter for a second.”

He wants it to hurt.

“You don’t get to cry now,” he spits.

He can see it—whatever half-assed apology or excuse is forming behind your teeth.

“Say something,” he snaps.

You don’t. You’re still browsing his face, he’s not making any sense to you, you’re waiting for it to blow over like it always does. 

“You think I’m gonna fuck you after this?” Rafe continues to taunt.

Your eyes widen.

“That’s what this is, right?” Rafe laughs as his hands fly out. “You show up in your panties, and I’m supposed to forget you humiliated me.”

Your lip is quivering. “Would it be so bad?”

“Yeah,” he mutters bitterly, shaking his head. “That’s what I thought.”

Your tongue drags along the inside of your cheek. 

“That wasn’t a no.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response, choosing to walk out and slamming the door so hard the cabinets rattle—before you can answer.

After that, you disappear without a dramatic exit, eye roll, or slammed bedroom door for days.

Rafe is relieved—even grateful. 

The house is quiet; his head void. He can come downstairs without hearing your voice or seeing your legs propped up on his couch.

He can eat, shower, and exist peacefully. But the peace is short-lived as he realizes you’re avoiding everyone, not just him.

You don't follow Ward around like a puppy, or gossip to your dad, you hardly pretend to care about the drinks Kelce brought over, or ask Topper to help you with your serve out back. You aren't laughing in his face or whining or bothering to make noise when Rafe leaves a room.

You stay in your room for hours on end, lights off most of the day, curtains drawn. Not sad enough for anyone to say something, but not loud enough to be you.

That pisses him off more than anything else. What—are you sulking now? Because he yelled? Because he said something you didn’t like? You could dish it out fine, but the moment someone threw a mirror in your face, you disappeared?

What the fuck were you doing there? Plotting? Crying? Sleeping? 

You’re not sorry; you’re never sorry.

Rafe would take another lie for this silence, one of your sarcastic "awww baby"s. Anything.

Instead, all he gets is the eerie quiet.

He isn’t expecting to see you when he turns the corner.

Damp hair, steam curling out of the bathroom, and there you are in the middle of it—fresh out of the shower, towel tucked around your chest, skin flushed warm. 

A scene that makes his mouth go dry. He braces for impact, for some fake yawn or thigh stretch, “Oops, forgot you were home.” A well-rehearsed coy glance as the towel happens to slip too far down your hip.

But it doesn’t come. You look at him—not through him, not at his mouth or his jaw or the hem of his sweatpants like you usually do—but right at him. 

“Sorry.”

Rafe’s brain stalls. “Huh?”

You take a timid glance down before returning your gaze. 

“I said I’m sorry. About Ward. It was shitty.”

No. You’re giving him nothing to work with.

There’s a catch here; there’s always a catch with you. You’re going to laugh and say, “You should’ve seen your face”. And drop the towel anyway.

To his utter dismay, you pull the towel higher, pressing it tight across your chest, knuckles white. You’re nervous. You, who has been wrapping men around your finger since eighth grade, making pain a game and calling it fun.

“Okay…” he nods slowly, testing the waters. “What is this?”

 “What do you mean?”

He tries to force the truth out with just his eyes.

“This,” Rafe gestures vaguely between you.

He doesn’t feel like you are ten moves ahead of him for the first time since you were children. You don’t make excuses. You are always the excuse. That’s how it’s always worked between you.

“I was really mean,” you continue, throat tight. “You didn’t deserve what I did.”

“Are you high?

You let out a breathy laugh, almost a scoff, "You know I don't smoke."

“Trying to manipulate me?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“…Sure am,” you echo, brows pinching.

“I don’t know.” Rafe shrugs, “You don’t usually mean shit. Forgive me if I’m skeptical.”

“I’m serious.”

He hates that part of him softens seeing your mouth tremble. He hates how familiar you are in your worst moments.

“…Okay. Thanks.”

You give a bashful nod, human for once. No siren in sight.

“You’re not fucking with me?” He inquires one more time for good mesure, there’s a boyish rasp in it.

The idea that you might be sincere is too fragile to touch.

“No.”

You walk past him, towel snug and unslipping, no extra glance, no game, leaving him stunned in a puddle of steam and the first apology you’ve ever given to him. That fucks with him more than anything else you've ever done over the last decade.

Rafe stands there for a full two minutes after you walk off. He hears the door to your bedroom click shut, soft as anything. No flounce, no slam. 

You didn’t bother to try to get the last word. What the fuck.

If the apology had twisted something weird in his ribs, the way you said it, not demanding forgiveness or even expecting it, made it worse. What was that? 

He runs a hand through his hair, then drags it down his face, letting out a looong breath.

No. No, this shit can’t be right.

As much as you piss him off—and you do, so thoroughly it feels like a second job—this haunted version of you is much worse. This hollow, too-soft thing isn’t you. This isn’t some pathetic moral reckoning that makes sense in his brain. 

It doesn't fucking sit right.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The next day is muggy.

Rafe wakes late, suffocated in sweat, sprawled in his sheets in a pair of shorts and nothing else. Tannyhill’s central AC is doing jack shit against the heatwave pressing into the island, but that’s not what drags him out of bed—it’s the voices downstairs.

He thinks he hears your name.

He throws on a clean shirt, still damp from the laundry pile, and stalks out of his room. The closer he gets to the bottom of the stairs, the clearer it becomes: Ward is in the kitchen, pacing slowly in his boat shoes. Your voice answers calmly from somewhere near the counter.

Rafe doesn’t make his entrance. He lingers beyond the last step, leaning into the wall as he listens.

“I thought maybe you knew,” Ward says. “He hasn’t been home. I’ve heard from just about everyone but him.”

You hum. “I saw him. Yesterday.”

Rafe frowns.

Ward pauses. “Where?”

Here we go.

He can hear a casual squeak of the stool, the clink of your spoon in the yogurt you’re probably eating.

“He was with the boys. They’re building something for Brandi’s mom. You know Brandi, right? Her mom’s birthday is coming up, and they’re surprising her with a dock extension.”

Rafe’s brows shoot up, his mouth parting in pure disbelief.

A what? And who the fuck is Brandi?

Ward scoffs under his breath. “It’d be nice if he told me that instead of disappearing like a damn vagrant.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they wanted to spoil the surprise,” you say sweetly, spoon still scraping. “It was last-minute. You know how boys are.”

The silence that follows is long and awkward.

Then Ward mutters something about heading to the office and needing his keys, and Rafe slips back up the stairs before anyone catches him eavesdropping.

He’s still stunned. Not only did you cover for him, you made something up. You never cover for him. You’ve sold him out for less—once over a broken lamp, another time because he called your playlist boring.

You’ve lied to him, about him, and at him. 

By the time you return to your room, he’s already sitting on your bed.

You halt in the doorway, raising a brow. “Huh… Rafe?”

“What the fuck was that?”

“Hi to you, too.”

“You told my dad I was building a dock.”

“For Brandi’s mom,” you add.

"Who?" Rafe glares. “You made that up.”

“No shit.” You close the door behind you and toss your phone on the bed. “Are you mad I made you sound useful?”

He doesn’t laugh. “Why’d you do that?”

You shrug. “I figured you’d prefer that over him knowing you were doing lines off someone’s cousin’s boat railing.”

Rafe watches you for a long second. He knows what you’re doing—he knows you. You never say sorry until it’s too late, you downplay your feelings so no one sees the full bruise of them.

But you did cover for him when you could’ve let Ward eat him alive.

You didn’t.

And fuck, that meant something. He's so easy.

Rafe tries—tries—not to look at the slope of your thighs, the shine on your collarbones, and the hem of your shirt riding way too high up your legs.

“Okay. Drop the innocent act.”

“What—”

“I’m serious. This whole sad, sweet girl routine? Not buying it.”

You stare, mouth parted in confusion.

He points at you. “Cut it out.”

“Cut what out?” You ask curiously.

“This,” he growls. “You’re not sorry. You’re never sorry. I know what the fuck I’m dealing with.”

Your lips press together, the lotion bottle slipping from your hands and thudding on the mattress.

“I am sorry.”

He shakes his head, praying you’re messing with him.

“No, you’re not. You’re bored, or you’re punishing me or playing the long game—I don’t know. But this sad-eyed version of you?” He gestures again. “Fuck no.”

You look down, hair falling in your face, and Rafe stares, fists still lost at his sides, heart hammering. He can't stand it. Not because you were acting out, but because you weren’t.

He lets out a slow breath, crossing the room, sitting beside you on the bed, heavy enough to dip the mattress. Your thighs brush, and he doesn’t hesitate, reaching for you, his arm slipping behind your back, his hand resting on your hip.

You don’t fight it when he pulls or seem surprised when he tugs you into his lap. You curl instinctively, knees drawn, arms loose around his neck, like muscle memory takes over where pride usually lives.  

All of it is wrong.

Not because of the way you feel; that part, unfortunately, makes complete sense. His hands know exactly where to land on your waist, your back, or your thigh. He can map you blindfolded just from the years he spent admiring you. 

What doesn’t make sense is you letting him hold you without seducing him or manipulating him like usual, that sly twist in your mouth nowhere in sight.

He squints at you.

“Let's get this shit over with,” he starts slowly, solving a math problem with a loaded gun to his head. “What’s it going to take?”

“For what?”

“To get you back to normal.”

You speak against his neck. “I am being normal.”

He exhales sharply through his nose. 

“No, you’re being—” His hand motions vaguely, trying to swat away fog. “This.”

Your eyes drop to his hoodie drawstrings, twisting one between your fingers.

Rafe groans, leans back further, dragging a hand through his hair. 

“You know what I mean.”

Your lashes flick up. “I said I was sorry.”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“I thought it was what you wanted,” you confess, voice mellow. “I’m mean and fake and spoiled, remember?”

Yeah, he said all that and meant it, even. But this shit isn't you, and it doesn't satisfy that awful, burning part of him that only ever calms when you’re spitting venom back at him.

“I don’t want you different.”

“Excuse me?"

“I want you real,” he says. “Even if that version drives me insane.”

You give a breathy laugh then. The first real sound you’ve made in days. Rafe swears—swears to God—his chest fucking hurts. 

Your eyes are still pliant and half-lidded from whatever tenderness blooms between the two of you, but your voice, that voice, comes back sharper.

“Would you look at that.”

Rafe’s head snaps back. “What?”

You lean in, eyes flicking down to his mouth before dragging back up. 

“You like it when I ruin your day; makes it real east for you to pretend you don’t care.”

His breath hitches.

“You don’t want me quiet, because if I’m quiet, you have to listen to yourself.”

The silence snaps taut.

His eyes burn into yours, and, finally, your lip curves.

“There she is.” His eyes drop to your mouth like it owes him answers. “The demon.”

You flutter your lashes and smile wider.

“Missed me?”

“You’re really something.”

“Is that the polite way of saying I’m a bitch?”

“You’re worse.”

Your hand ghosts down to his chest, fingers splayed flat against his sternum, tapping your nails.

“Does the sad girl act not do it for you anymore? You used to kiss my boo-boos when I did it.”

His mind travels back vividly to that afternoon when you were twelve, just a kid with fire in your eyes and a mouth that never quite shut off.

Rafe lets out a low sound, between a laugh and a growl, grabbing your chin in the process, bruising enough to say, don’t fuck with me. 

Your eyes sparkle because you want him to.

He shakes his head, scoffing under his breath. “You’re sick.”

You hum in agreement. “Takes one to know one.”

You move in his lap, and Rafe’s hands fly to your hips, gripping hard enough to make a point.

“Cut that shit out.”

“You like it.”

You’re gleaming now, soaking in the fire under his skin, leaning in again, near enough to be dangerous.

“I missed you too, Rafey.”

He groans gutturally, pushing you off him.

“Get off me.”

You don’t fight it, sprawling onto the mattress with a dramatic sigh, limbs stretched and hair a mess on the pillow.

"Fucking brat," he mutters, standing, fists digging into his eyes like you’ve left a stain behind.

“And you’re still not over me,” you sing-song, turning to your side, propping your head up on your hand, eyes glinting.

“I was never under you.”

You click your tongue. “Soon.”

He shoots you a glare, then snatches his keys off the desk where he dropped them earlier.

“Where are you going?” You call after him, stretching like a cat in your bed. “You’re the one who told me to go to sleep!”

“Anywhere you’re not. Stay away.”

Easier said than done.

[cash-111]

Am I so bad?

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Reader

CW: just some minor hurt-comfort. Friends to lovers. Reader is purely gender neutral except for the fact they have longish hair.

Synopsis: Theo is insecure after you snort at the idea of you being together.

Words: idrk but it’s very short.

A/N: sorry this isn’t very professional or aesthetic, or beta read. It’s my first fic on here, I’ll get the gist eventually.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Would it be so bad?”

Having had your interest peeked, you looked up from the book you were so enthralled by. Theodore laid on your bed, his uniform messy and crumpled from the day’s commotion, looking up at your ceiling.

“Hm? What, Theo?”

Your eyes dropped down on the page again, turning it slowly, almost to savor the feeling of the paper on your fingertips.

“Would it be so bad” He repeated “if we… you know, were to date?” His hands rested on his chest, one of his thumbs smoothing the top of the other in a soothing way.

“What’s this about now?” You said, a playful tone in your voice. “You getting desperate, Teddy?”

His face scrunched up in one of his usual sarcasm-filled smiles, before it straightened into a normal one.

“Be serious for a moment, would you?”

“Okay…” you closed your book on your lap and sat up “So what’s this about?”

He rolled around too so he could face you, consequently scooching up with a few huffs. “Well,” he started “you made a really disgusted, wacky sound when those Hufflepuffs mistook us for a couple”

He gestured, a hint of a shrug. “And, you know, I wanted to know what was up”

You set your book on the table, your eyebrows raised.

“Oh my god. The Theodore Nott feels insecure? Check the date, I need to put this on my calendar!” You gasped jokingly, getting up in a hurry. You laughed as Theo caught your thighs and threw you onto the bed with him.

“I’m not insecure.” he reasoned, quite loudly.

“Mhm” you pursed your lips, trying not to let any more laughter slip, but he caught on and started tickling you as ‘his revenge’.

Once you were begging for him to stop, he finally relented, mumbling a satisfied ‘that’s what you get’.

As you caught your breath, a big grin still on your face, Theo turned away from you, his shoulders slacked.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” You came to rest a hand on his shoulder, your voice softer and worried. In turn, his hand shot up to rest on yours.

“Do you truly, actually, find me sickening?” He smiled, but his eyes were sad and his voice carried that hint of melancholy that let you know he was asking sincerely.

“What? Of course not, Theo.” You squeezed his shoulder in reassurance, and your other hand came to smooth over his back. “You’re the most handsome guy I know. I thought you knew that, that’s why I was making irony earlier” you explained.

He turned his head to look into your eyes. “I’m the most handsome guy you know?” His usual grin finally reclaiming his features.

“Psh, don’t flatter yourself.” you pushed him lightly. “But yes” you returned his grin with one of your own.

“So I do have a chance” he propped himself up more to face your body.

“In your dreams, Ted” you gave him a quick peck on the cheek, before patting his head and going to put up your hair.

He tsked and mumbled to himself. “Nei miei sogni facciamo già molto di più, tesoro” In my dreams we do a lot more already, darling (treasure)

“What was that?” You spoke up, busy looking at your image in the mirror.

“Nothing, nothing…”

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 17

Summary: You're finally back in Westview.

It’s your last shift at Romanoff Medical Center and everyone’s trying to act normal.

But then Yelena is rushing past you into a conference room, and Lorne is nowhere to be found even though he always insists on greeting you with a song.

“Hey, Y/N, could you help me review some post ops over here?” Yelena asks at one point and you play dumb.

If they’re going to ignore your no party request, the least you can do is have fun with it.

“I haven’t had lunch. Let’s do it at the cafeteria”

“No, it will only take a minute” the blonde insists and you smile, pretending to think about it.

“Alright, then”

When everyone screams “Surprise!” you pretend to be, knowing Wanda would want you to be polite.

“Cut the cake, come on” Yelena insists and after the first bite your mood changes instantly.

“Holy crap, this is delicious. Thanks, guys”

“So predictable. I knew the way to you was through your stomach. Speaking of which”

She hands over a card that has an intestine drawn and the words “We’ll miss you, don’t forGUT about us”

“Get it? Gut, as in your insides…” Lorne explains and you nod, hoping he shuts up.

“Yeah, seemed obvious to me, thanks”

Everyone’s asking about your plans and you try to dodge the questions. Your plan is to get on a plane back to Westview and hope for the best. Carol’s wedding seems like a safe enough topic, as everyone loves a party.

“Hey, I thought it was someone’s birthday” Val greets you.

“You made it! You are here for my party, right?”

“Yelena mentioned it. But, could I talk to you for a minute?” she gestures towards the hall and you follow her, a plate full of cake in your hands. “So, I have good news. The program wants you”

“Really?”

“They’d like it more if you agreed to move right away, but two months this summer is a compromise they’re willing to take. Not a lot of people request to go to Sokovia specifically”

“Ok, that’s awesome. Can you send me the details? I need to organize everything” you begin to think about flights, accommodation…

“And tell your girlfriend” Val reminds you.

“Oh, yeah. That”

Hey, babe. Wanna move back to your home country for the summer?

“Take it one step at a time, Y/N. And it was lovely meeting you” Val says, surprising you with a hug. She didn’t seem like the type to hug at all.

“You don’t want any cake?”

“Eat a slice for me”

“I can definitely do that” you mutter as she walks away. By God, it’s delicious.

More people go in and out of the conference room to say goodbye and you appreciate all their kind words. It’s a little overwhelming, as you honestly didn’t think anyone even noticed you around.

“Natasha’s not coming?” you ask Yelena, and the blonde shrugs her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I told her but you know how she is”

“No, I get it” you nod, trying to be casual about it.

The Romanoff that does stop by is Melina, who is on her way to a conference in Milan.

“Just wanted to wish you the best in your next adventure, whatever that is”

“I was considering stand up comedian” you joke, offering her cake. She turns it down with a polite gesture. “I’ve been told I have a funny bone…”

“Stick to medicine, darling” she cuts you off, making you laugh. “Before I leave, I need you to review your separation agreement and severance, just to make sure it’s all ok”

You nod, taking the piece of paper she’s offering.

“Uh, there’s definitely an extra zero there” you say, eyes open wide.

“I must insist. Save it for your time in Sokovia”

“You know about that, huh?” you chuckle.

“Of course. I’m part of the NGO’s board” Melina says, smiling. “Don’t be a stranger. You’ll always have a place here if you want to come back”

“Thank you” you say, and Melina nods. “I just… want to say I admire you, not just the research you do, but for giving back to the community. I see it and a lot of people in this hospital see it too, I hope you know that, Doctor Romanoff”

“Mama, it looks like you want to cry” Yelena chimes in and you roll your eyes. Melina laughs, asking her daughter to walk with her to the exit.

You’re left alone with Lorne, who is removing the decorations. You help him for a bit, working in silence until he sobs loudly.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, Doctor Y/L/N”

“Ah, jeez” you say, hoping he doesn’t hug you. “It’s alright. Sharon is great. You’ll love working with her. Go check on my post ops, that will cheer you up”

It’s a quiet shift, which you appreciate. Yelena spends the rest of the day glued to your side, until it’s time to go back and pack the last of your things.

“Don’t be a stranger” the blonde says, looking everywhere but you.

“Yel, we’re seeing each other for Carol’s wedding. You don’t think Kate already told Darcy you’re her plus one?”

“She’s so bad at keeping secrets”

“Come here” you pull her for a hug. You’re gonna miss her, truly. And you hope there was something you could do to stay here, but you made a choice and your family comes first. “Don’t wanna be corny, but I care a lot about you, kiddo”

“I know” she says against your shoulder, hugging you before letting go. Yelena wipes her eyes and smiles. “See ya soon”

The penthouse feels a little empty, and the view from the terrace is gloomy, the clouds making it seem sad. It’s not like you have a lot of stuff to pack, only the clothes you bought when you got here, some shoes and scrubs. Everything else is either at Wanda’s or it was already here.

With a final look at the place, you close the door and go down the elevator one last time. As you’re about to step out the building and ask for a cab, someone pulls over.

“Need a ride?” Natasha says, opening the door of her car for you.

“Hey, stranger”

“You didn’t think I’d let you go without saying goodbye, did you?”

“Well, honestly? I did. You missed my farewell party”

“That’s because I knew someone would cry and it makes me uncomfortable” she explains, driving straight to the airport. “Got everything you need?”

“I think so, yeah” you nod. “I’m excited and terrified. I feel like everything will be the same and at the same point, nothing will, ya know?”

“Yeah I get it. You’ll be fine, though” she assures you, smiling.

The conversation flows easily, and you briefly mention your summer plans. She smirks, and you slap her arm.

“What are you laughing at?”

“See? I was never the problem. You’re more than capable of finding ways to piss off Wanda by yourself”

“Is it so bad to travel across the world to help others?”

“I’m just teasing” she laughs, though you know there’s some truth behind it.

Honestly, you’re 50/50 regarding Wanda’s reaction. Maybe she’ll be excited, and maybe she’ll throw something at you, lecturing you about making big decisions together.

“Alright, we’re here” Natasha says, pulling over. She helps with your suitcase, lingering for a bit as you get everything ready. You confirm you have everything with a nod, and your eyes meet hers.

“Nat…”

“I know” she says, pulling you in for a hug.

“Don’t be a stranger, please? At least text me once every month” you say.

“I’ll try my best. Take care, Y/N”

“You too” you wave one last time before walking to the airport.

When you’re finally on the plane, and you look out the window, the buildings of the city turn into nothing more than memories.

Time to go back home.

—

The air is cleaner, and so are the skies. That’s the first thing you notice as you step outside. The airport is so small compared to the one in Boston, and you don’t have to walk a lot to find Carol waiting for you.

“If it isn’t my runaway bridesmaid” she jokes and you smile, running to hug her.

“I’m back! I’m sorry. Do I still get to plan the bridal shower?”

“Maybe, we’re still wondering if it’s a good idea to get half the hospital drunk” she jokes. “Is that all you got?”

“Yeah” you hand over your suitcase, and you drive back to the hospital.

“So, how’s Wanda?” she gets right to it.

“Good. We’re working things out but taking it slow. I thought it might be a bit rushed to move right back in so I’ll stay with Darcy until I can find a place”

“Very mature and sensible” Carol nods. “I’m happy the time apart was good for you two. Like me and Maria”

“How’s the future Mrs. Danvers?”

“Stressed, but managing. Plus we’re thinking about trying for a kid so…” Carol mentions and you all but scream.

“A little troublemaker! They’re gonna be so cute”

You keep updating each other on things here and there, and when you finally get to the hospital, you stand outside for a minute to take it in.

It doesn’t feel wrong to be back. You’ve been through these doors more times than you can count. You know the people who work here; they’ve had your back and you have theirs.

Apart from the time you quit on the spot, of course.

With a sigh, you decide it’s time to face Fury. Carol wishes you luck and you agree to meet later for the final dress fitting.

His secretary does a doble take when you request to see him, and she hurries to his door.

“It’s Doctor Y/L/N”

“Well, it’s a miracle” Fury exclaims. You rub the back of your neck and walk in his office, smiling like an idiot.

“Hey… how’s it going?”

“Understaffed. Can I help you? Or did Romanoff send you to steal another head of department?”

“Uh, no… I came to request a job interview. Since you’re understaffed”

Fury leans back on his seat, crossing his arms.

“Well, the position of Head of Trauma is…”

You hear a commotion outside, and Darcy screaming for people to move out of the way.

“Hi, good morning” she straightens her glasses. “I quit” she turns around but comes back a second later. “Just to clarify. I’m still the Head of General Surgery. I quit as Head of Trauma. Thanks. See you in the cafeteria, Cujo”

“Nah, come here…” you pull her in for a hug, and are surprised to feel Darcy returning the gesture. “I missed you”

“Excuse me” she says, hiding her tears and walking away. You want to follow her but Fury clears his throat and you turn back to look at him.

“As I was saying… the position is currently open. But I’m looking for someone who will stay. And not quit on a whim, and leave her people high and dry. Can you be that person?”

“Yes, sir. Oh, except I’m going to Sokovia in the summer for a couple of months”

“If I wasn’t bald already… I’d definitely be thanks to you” he sighs, massaging his temples.

“Hey, I’ll find someone who can cover for me, that’s a promise” you raise your hand. “Scout’s honor”

“Fine. Go to HR and get the paperwork started. Welcome back, Doctor Y/L/N”

“Thanks, sir. It’s good to be home”

People greet you in the hallway and you smile, excited to catch up with everyone. Ana, the woman from HR is not so thrilled about you.

“Coming or going?” she asks, and you laugh awkwardly.

“Oh, coming back to my old position. Fury told me to get an updated ID”

“Uh-hu” the woman eyes you up and down.

After the paperwork hassle, you walk around the hospital. There’s a couple of signs in the board and you read them, taking an interest in one that’s looking for a roomate.

For more information, call James Barnes.

You take the ad and run to the ER, finding Bucky working on setting up an IV.

“Welcome back” he says with a smile you’ve only seen twice.

“Thanks. Now, about that room you’re renting”

—

“You’re gonna be roommates with my nemesis?” Darcy says as you drive to Wanda’s house.

Wanda was busy during the day but organized an early dinner with her family and some of your friends to welcome you back.

“Barnes is not your nemesis. You are coworkers, Darcy. Plus, you hate it when you have to share space with other people. I remember what it was like in college”

“Well, that’s true. I just don’t believe Wanda will let you sleep anywhere else”

“It’s for the best. I can’t go from living alone for the past three months to a full house again”

She’s about to say something when you cut off another driver, going faster while he honks at you.

“Damn, is she waiting for you naked? Why are you driving like a lunatic?” Darcy says, holding on to the dashboard.

“Oh, sorry” you immediately slow down. “Got used to driving in a bigger city”

Pietro is the one that opens the door when you knock (it feels weird to just walk in like you own the place). He stares at you and you think he’s getting ready for another shovel talk when he smiles, hugging you.

“Wow, careful” you say when he lifts you in the air.

“I’m a lot better now, sestra. Welcome back”

“It’s good to be back”

The minute you walk in, the kids run up to you and you lift them over your shoulders, Sparky running around and jumping up and down to make you notice him.

“My little velociraptors! Hey, Sparky!”

The party is bigger than you expected. The Bartons are there, as well as Agatha, Rio and Mrs. Davies. You walk into the backyard where there’s a large table and people begin to walk over to welcome you.

“Hey, hot stuff, you got buff. Rio, come over here, feel those muscles” Agatha says, squeezing your arm. Rio smirks, biting her lip as she joins her girlfriend. They share a look and you feel like this is a kink of theirs.

Clint comes over to save you.

“Looked like you could use some help”

“Uh, yeah. I feel dirty. Thanks, man”

“Good to have you back”

Laura joins you, asking about Lily, who happens to be a friend of hers from college and you also talk about Wendy.

When the kids call for her, you smile and walk in the direction of a woman who has interacted with everyone, but stays in the back.

“Hi, Mrs. Maximoff. It’s nice to finally meet you”

“How did you know?”

“Well, you have the same eyes as Wanda. And you scrunch up your nose the same way when you smile. That’s top of my head, I could mention like ten other things I noticed”

“Very observant”

“When it comes to Wanda, yes”

“I’ve heard a lot about you” the woman smiles.

“I’m afraid not all of it has been good. I wish I hadn’t cause so much trouble when I left” you sigh, knowing there’s no point in pretending you didn’t screw up.

“Relationships are complicated. What matters is how much work you want to put into it” she looks at you sternly and you nod. Her eyes divert to a spot over your shoulder and she smiles. “I believe my daughter’s waiting for you”

“What?” you turn to look behind you, forgetting everything as soon as your eyes meet Wanda’s.

She’s in a beautiful green dress that brings out her eyes, smiling at you as you walk up to her.

“Welcome ho…” she begins to say but your lips interrupt her. Your hands cup her face gently as you kiss her, and she covers them with hers, giving you a light squeeze. “As I was saying, welcome home”

“I missed you” you whisper against her lips. “I’m never leaving again, ever”

“Good to know” she smiles at you, taking you back to chat with everyone.

Pretty soon you all grab plates and help yourselves to the food. There’s chicken pie, meatloaf, and some cake.

“Mrs. Maximoff, the chkmeruli is amazing. Did you use adjika?” you say, enjoying the taste. It’s so damn good.

“Yes. How did you…?” she says, impressed.

“Well, I know Wanda had trouble finding a store that sold it here. But I found some of it in Boston and tried to cook with it. It makes all the difference”

“Ok, Barefoot Contessa” Darcy mutters and you elbow her side, chuckling.

“Well, this isn’t store bought. I made it from scratch” Wanda’s mother announces proudly.

“No way, would you teach me?” you ask. “I was thinking about using it with fried potatoes or some other stuff too”

“I’d be happy to” the woman nods, and then looks at her daughter. She speaks in Sokovian, and Wanda blushes.

“Mama!”

“What? What did she say?” Darcy asks, and you look between Wanda and her mother.

“She said that Wanda better marry that girl”

Clint whistles, while Laura laughs and you blush.

“No, she didn’t, that’s a lie” Wanda throws a piece of bread to Pietro, but he catches it and puts it in his mouth, smiling proudly.

“Well, babe. I’d listen to your mother” you smile.

Wanda rolls her eyes, but everytime you lock eyes for the rest of the night, you can tell she’s happy that her mother liked you.

Well, maybe when you ask her blessing to propose to Wanda she’ll say yes.

—

Everyone’s gone, the twins are in bed and Ekaterina has also left for the day.

It’s just you and Wanda in the kitchen, saving stuff in the fridge and loading the dishwasher.

“Thanks for throwing a party. You didn’t have to, baby”

“Everyone was looking forward to seeing you. Now we got that out of the way and I can have you all to myself” she smiles, her hands going around your waist.

“Oh, and why would you want me for yourself only, Miss Maximoff? Anything comes to mind?”

“A couple of things” she smiles, kissing you.

You moan against her mouth when her teeth play with your bottom lip.

“Well, I’m down as long as there’s more of that”

“Then come to bed”

“I should go”

“Stay” she asks. “All your stuff is here, and I know you found that apartment already. I’ll help you take your stuff tomorrow”

“You sure?”

“If it were up to me, you would have moved back here already, detka”

“Well, if it were up to your mother we’d be married” you joke as you go up the stairs. Wanda laughs, pulling you inside her bedroom. You take off your clothes, deciding to sleep in your underwear.

Wanda comes out of the master bathroom wearing one of your t-shirts.

“What a view” you say, pulling her down to your lap. “Better than any penthouse in the world”

“Mhm. I missed you in our bed. I got so lonely, and I… well, someone else slept here for a while” she sighs, looking away. You frown, searching for her eyes. Wanda keeps talking, refusing to look at you. “He was fine, it was just weird with all his hair and a different smell. But nothing happened, we just cuddled, you have to believe me”

“You’re talking about that damn dog, aren’t ya?” you say, because if she isn’t, you’re going to find the bastard that slept with Wanda and kill him.

“Well, I…” Wanda turns to look at you, and her lip quivers. A second later, she’s laughing so loud she has to cover her mouth. “Yes. I’m sorry, you should have seen your face”

“You’ll pay for this” you say, flipping her on her back and tickling her sides. Wanda shrieks, laughing as she apologizes over and over again.

—

“Strip club”

“For a bridal shower? Groundbreaking” Darcy mocks you, without looking up from the charts she’s reading.

“Fine, you propose something!”

It’s not like there are a lot of things you can do. You know Maria and Carol love sports but you really can’t imagine going to a game and then calling it a great party.

It’s supposed to be fun and memorable and something that you wouldn’t normally do.

“I’m proposing we get drunk, that’s it”

“How about a drag show? That’s fun and very queer of us”

“Maybe. That would be fun” Darcy thinks about it for a moment. “I’ll run it by Carol and let you know”

“Hey, I’m the maid of honor, I should be the one asking her”

“You were demoted when you left” Darcy blows you a kiss, and slams the door behind her. That’s probably a lie, but she’ll make sure Carol hears her out before you can even mention the strip club idea.

Kate comes over to ask for some help, and by the time your shift ends, Wanda’s waiting at the front desk.

“Hey, baby” Wanda greets when you meet her. You kiss her and as you pull back, Darcy walks by, looking annoyed.

“Carol wants to go to the strip club, so your idea wins. Hope you’re happy”

“Strip club?” Wanda turns to look at you, tilting her head.

“You’re an ass, Lewis. It wasn’t my idea. I mean, it was, but I just mentioned it could be something to do” you stutter when your friend leaves and you’re left alone with Wanda.

“Mhm. Might have to go with you to make sure no one touches what’s mine”

“Considering what happened last time we were at a club, I’m not opposed to the idea” you say, remembering how hot it was to have Wanda all over you.

“We’ll see” she promises, kissing the spot in your jaw that always makes you agree to anything. “Now let’s go, the kids are waiting for us”

As soon as you had a free afternoon, you wanted to join soccer practice, mainly to make sure Bitchard knew you were back and he’d think it twice before messing with Wanda.

“There he is” you mutter when you get out of the car, walking to open the passenger door for your girlfriend. Wanda follows your eyes and then scoffs.

“So that’s why you wanted to come along. Honestly, I didn’t even pay attention when he asked me out”

“He did what?”

“I told you”

“You did not”

“Well, I… what are you doing?” she says when you corner her against the car, your hands on her waist. “We’re in public”

“Did he try anything else?” you say against her lips. “Answer me, Wanda”

“N-no”

“Well, good. Let’s hope after today he gets the message loud and clear”

“Trust me, I made sure of that” Wanda tries to push past you, but your hands keep her in place, your grip so strong it makes her knees weak.

“Who do you belong to, baby? Come on, be a good girl, I wanna hear you say it”

“You, I’m yours. You know it”

“I just like to remind you, that’s all. Now, let’s go” you finally set her free, and Wanda misses the feeling of your body pressed against her. She’s going to have trouble focusing on the game now.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you” Sharon winks at you the minute you join the rest of the parents.

“Oh, yeah. I’m back for good, though. Missed me?” you joke, knowing it will upset your girlfriend.

“Yes, and those extra muscles suit you very well” she looks ready to squeeze your bicep, but Wanda clears her throat, standing by your side. You wave at Tommy and Billy, who finally agreed to go back to practice on the condition that you train together whenever you’re free.

“Hey, how about a friendly competition between parents? Losing team pays for ice cream” Coach Hill says when an ice cream truck approaches, making all the kids distracted. They’re definitely not playing when they could be having a sweet treat.

“Yeah, I’m in” you say, stepping into the field. Of course, Bitchard is next and you turn to Maria. “Not playing on his team, though”

“That’s fine. You’re both captains of your teams”

A couple of parents join you and Dickhead picks some other people for his team. You’re surprised when Sharon’s the last joining you.

“Let’s get their asses”

To your delight, Richard decides to be the goalie for his team, so you choose the forward position. With some luck you’ll manage to get the ball right in his fucking face.

Coach Hill starts the game with her whistle and the ball is quickly on your teammates side. To your surprise, Sharon is a master dribbler and she runs past most of the men, kicking the ball towards you.

You make it seem like you’ll aim for the left corner and when Dick falls into the trap, you easily kick the ball in the opposite direction.

“1-0. First to score three goals wins” Maria announces.

The game gets so good that even the truck driver parks to watch it. You have to work a bit harder to get to the second goal but by the time you do, you’re out of breath. You lift your t-shirt to wipe the sweat off your face, missing the way Wanda’s eyes darken at the sight before her.

“Sharon, the ball” you scream at her. Apparently, she got distracted too and now you have to run a bit faster to catch up and intercept it.

Still, you score, making it 2-0.

The last goal is super easy, except Bitchard slips and then looks at Hill, whining like a baby.

“That was definitely offside”

“No, it wasn’t” you challenge. “Might wanna have your eyesight checked”

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell your girlfriend to come over and check it for me?”

“I’m going to kill you” you announce, walking towards him.

“Hey, hey. Set an example for the kids” Hill says, standing between the two of you. “It was an offside, not that anyone cares because this is soccer practice for ten year olds… but if it makes you so upset”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Don’t want tiny dick’s to fall off for a technicality” you smile, turning back. “I’m getting that goal either way”

And you do, faster than expected. With a slide, you take control of the ball and then kick it so hard it lands on Richard’s stomach, pushing him against the net. He falls on his back, out of breath.

“Congrats, now how about a friendly handshake to finish this?” Hill proposes, hoping you don’t try to punch the man while he’s already down.

Instead you extend your hand to help him up and when he takes it, you pretend to hug him in a friendly manner, but squeezing his hand so hard he whines.

“If you ever mess with my family again, I will cut your tiny dick with a scalpel and make you choke on it, got it?” you whisper, changing your expression to a smile when you pull apart. You slap him playfully, smiling with a shit eating grin. “Good game, Dick. Now pay up”

The twins are talking non stop when you join them, giving them a thumbs up.

“Can you teach me to slide like that?” Tommy asks when you’re walking back to the car.

“Sure, kiddo. Some other time”

As they get in the car, Wanda stops you, smiling.

“So, all good? The murderous impulse is out of your system now?”

“Yeah, one last thing” you say, seeing as Richard’s arguing with the ice cream man. You approach them, handing over a 100 dollar bill.

“And you had the nerve to ask my girl out when you’re a cheap ass? Keep the change, man”

Wanda laughs as you walk back, pulling her in for a kiss.

“Now I’m done”

—

You’re in the kitchen, trying to write down everything Wanda’s mother tells you.

“It’s very salty” you comment when she offers you a taste of the adjika sauce.

“It should be, that’s what preserves it”

You nod, and keep following her instructions. Wanda walks around, trying to check what you’re doing, but her mother insists that you need your space to work.

“I wasn’t big on cooking before, guess she’s just curious if I’m making a mess in her kitchen” you explain, smiling.

“So, what do you provide to a household, if not cooking?” the woman says and you want to laugh at the formality of the question.

“Oh, I fix things. My dad taught me how to do a lot of stuff, since I was little. My stepdad too; whenever my mother was too tired to pretend she wanted me around she’d send me to work with him. But he was ok, he liked teaching me things”

“No child should feel like a burden to their parents” is all the woman says and you shrug your shoulders. “You have a sister, yes?”

“And a brother” you nod, smiling. “I was hoping to invite them over, Zach hasn’t met Wanda and the kids. Maybe before…”

You’re about to say before I go to Sokovia but you haven’t had the conversation with Wanda.

“Before…?” Ekaterina looks up, not missing a beat. Darcy was right, she’s very observant.

“Before Jenny goes to college” you half lie.

The two of you work in silence for a bit, but your mind keeps going back to their home country.

“So, can I ask about Sokovia? Wanda tells me some stuff about the food and the language but I’m wondering what is it like there now that the war is over”

“Well, the war is over. But there’s a lot of ruins and a lot to rebuild. No money to do it, and people who love their land. Most of them never left and the ones that did don’t really want to come back”

“Why did you? If I can ask”

“That’s where I met my husband, and where my kids were born, it’s the land that gave me everything I have ever loved. And no offense to you Americans but I could never understand some of your traditions”

“None taken. I don’t like some of them either. Especially from a doctor’s perspective, people get in the weirdest accidents when they’re lighting fireworks or carving pumpkins”

“Can I ask you something?” she says after a beat of silence. You nod, feeling nervous. “I know how you met my daughter and everything that happened between you two. Why do you think it’s different now?”

“Well. Let me start by saying I love your daughter very much. I love how kind and thoughtful she is, how much she loves the boys. I love how she knows exactly how to make someone feel welcomed and appreciated without even trying. I could go on and on for hours, Mrs. Maximoff”

“That’s very nice of you, but it’s not what I asked. I just want to make sure you won’t hurt her again”

You stop chopping vegetables and look at Ekaterina, sighing.

“I… I thought I wasn’t going to survive. She told me she was better off without me, and I took it to heart, leaving to try to move on. Boston was nice. I made friends, the work was very interesting. I could have built my life there. I realised I could survive, live a life without Wanda. But I just don’t want to. So that’s why I’m not leaving ever again. I choose to be here no matter what”

The woman stays silent for a moment, and then eyes you up and down.

“Very well” is all she says. You smile, knowing that’s the highest form of compliment you can get out of her.

Dinner is nice and the kids are eager to tell Pietro about the match between the parents.

“Maybe I’ll join next time” he says. “Now that my doctor has finally given his approval”

“That’s wonderful news” Ekaterina says.

“Good, it’s your turn to do my laundry for the next few months” Wanda says.

“I actually already found a place to stay. So I can give you two privacy. Yeah, you know the guy, Y/N. Barnes”

“Wait, I’m moving in with him”

“Ok, let’s cut the taking it slow bullshit” Pietro says, looking between you and Wanda.

“Language!” Wanda and her mother scold at the same time. You almost want to laugh at the identical frowns on their faces.

“Sorry, but Y/N, you’ve been back for a week and when you’re not working you sleep here” Pietro calls out, and he does have a point. “So, while I find a house of my own, you two can have some privacy”

“You’re staying in Westview?” Wanda asks.

“Yeah, I figured it’s time to settle” he shrugs his shoulders.

“That’s so cool! We can have sleepovers all the time” Tommy cheers and you smile as well.

“Yeah, sleepovers sound like a great idea” you mutter in Wanda’s direction. She elbows your side, knowing you’re thinking about all the alone time you could have if the boys stay with their uncle.

“Congratulations. A toast for new beginings” Ekaterina says.

You keep talking about Pietro’s plans and you agree to help him move his stuff. There’s also the subject of what to do now that his provisional room will be available again.

“Well, mom, you could move in there” Wanda proposes.

“I couldn't possibly leave Mrs. Davies. But now that you have a spare room, you could definitely consider turning it into a nursery” Ekaterina says casually, making you choke on your wine.

“Mom’s only teasing, detka” Wanda says, easing your nerves with a hand on your leg. “I already gave you two grandchildren, hassle Pietro about it”

“Well, unless he does it by mitosis, it might not happen anytime soon” you say, but no one laughs. “That joke would have killed in the hospital, just so ya’ll know”

“Here it only killed the mood” Pietro says.

“Ok, I take it back, I don’t want any more grandchildren, with the three of you I have enough kids to scold” Ekaterina says, making you laugh.

“Sorry” Pietro and you say at the same time.

“Three? What did I do? I’m just eating my dinner” Wanda protests, looking offended.

“Don’t get me started on all the things you did, malyshka”

“Oh, this is going to be good” you say, eager to learn more about teenage Wanda.

“Blasting her music, saying she wanted to be in an all girls band and tour the world instead of going to college”

“Stealing Papa’s car” Pietro chimes in and you gasp.

“Hey, you were there too!”

“Yeah, but it was your idea, remember? You wanted to go to that concert. Sneaked us in with fake IDs”

“You had fake IDs?” Ekaterina says, shocked.

“Children, how about you go get us ice cream?” Wanda interrupts her brother, looking ready to murder him.

“Even if we already had some today?”

“Yes, go crazy!” Wanda encourages them, breathing a sigh of relief when they’re gone. “Not fair, you guys. In front of Y/N too”

“No, I find you fascinating, my love” you laugh, taking her hand and kissing it.

“Blegh, I’m getting ice cream too” Pietro complains.

Ekaterina begins to pick up the dishes and Wanda helps her, insisting that you stay with the boys watching tv.

By the time it’s all done, Wanda calls the kids for bed.

“Detka, can you help mom set the dishwasher?”

“Yeah, sure thing”

You join Ekaterina in the kitchen, and she huffs and scoffs as you load it.

“Why can’t we just rinse them in the sink like normal people?”

“There. All done, Mrs. Maximoff” you smile at her, wiping your hands.

“You should call me Mom” she says, taking you by surprise.

“Uh, you sure? I mean, not even my own mother wanted me to call her that” you joke.

“Her loss. I insist”

“Alright. I’ll… try” you promise.

Ekaterina nods, looking at her watch.

“Oh, my. It’s time for The Price is Right. Mrs. Davies is waiting for me. Tell Wanda I’ll see her tomorrow”

“Yes, Mrs. Ma… Mom” you correct when the woman gives you a stern look. Another thing she shares with Wanda.

“Night”

“Goodnight” you say, smiling as she kisses Pietro’s cheeks.

Looks like you just got adopted by the Maximoff matriarch.

“Where’s mom?” Wanda says as she goes down the stairs.

“Oh, she was late for The Price is Right with Mrs. Davies” you say, smiling at her.

“Well, come to bed. I have to give you your prize for winning that match” she says, biting her lip.

“I knew I was going to score more than goals today” you smile, picking her up. Pietro overhears, groaning.

“I can’t wait to move out”

“Wear headphones, Maximoff. We’re getting loud” you say, making Wanda laugh as you go upstairs.

“I hate you both!”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Cindereddie

Written for the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Slipper on the main card | Argyle on the Get Lucky bonus card

Rated: T

Tags: Post-Vecna; Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson; Recreational drug use; Jealous Steve; Idiots in love

“I lost my shoe,” Eddie declares, overjoyed and giddy. 

Sure enough, a look at his feet reveals one worn combat boot with the laces undone and one muddied sock with a toe poking out from a hole at the tip. There’s cartoon figures printed all over it. The sock, not the toe. Garfield, probaby, though it’s hard to tell with all the mud. 

“Huh?” says Steve. It’s pitch dark and raining, and he had just fallen asleep when the doorbell rang, and now Eddie is here - sopping wet, dragging a trail of muddy footsteps all over the front porch and aiming that wide, toothy grin at him that always makes Steve’s heart skip a beat. 

He feels like he missed something. 

Eddie’s smile, impossibly, goes wider. “I lost my-” 

“Yeah,” Steve interrupts him. “I see that, just- …What are you even doing here? I thought you were gonna hang with Argyle tonight?” 

He tries his best to keep the sneer out of his voice, to ignore the ugly twist that his stomach gives at the thought. Argyle is a decent guy, and there’s absolutely no need to feel jealous of this newly formed friendship between Eddie and him. Because that’s all they are. Just friends. Exactly like Eddie and Steve are just friends, so Steve has absolutely no right to get all moody and possessive like that. 

“Oh, I did,” Eddie nods, wet curls bobbing. “We sampled his new strain. Fairy Godmother. The Cali stuff has the wackiest names, but the way it hits? Metal as fuck, man.” 

Which … okay, that actually explains a lot. Like the way Eddie quite evidently can’t stop grinning. Or the way his eyes are even darker than usual, pupils almost entirely swallowing the browns and caramels of his irises. Or the southern drawl that has crept into his voice - barely there but just noticeable enough around some of the vowels. 

“Okay?” Steve says, valiantly attempting to keep his mouth from twitching, but what can he say? Eddie’s smile is contagious. “So you're high as balls. That still doesn't explain why you're here.” 

Eddie shrugs. “Wanted to see you. Don't you wanna see me?” 

His bottom lip juts out and his eyes go huge. Steve rolls his eyes. 

“I'm always happy to see you, idiot. Just… you couldn't have waited until tomorrow? You absolutely had to walk all the way here in the rain and the mud?” 

“Would've taken the van,” Eddie mutters around a fistful of hair. “Except I thought that was too risky.” 

Steve crosses his arms at him. “Well, I'm glad we agree on one thing at-”

“It might turn back any second.” 

Steve stares. “Pardon?” 

“Into a pumpkin,” Eddie says, like it makes sense. “It's almost midnight, right?” 

A look at his watch tells Steve that this is true. What it doesn't tell him is what the hell Eddie is on about. Steve pinches his nose. 

“What the fuck? Why would your van turn into a-” 

And then it clicks. 

“Oh God,” he groans. “Don't tell me you mean the fucking Fairy Godmother?” 

“I'm Cinderella!” Eddie beams. Then, his brow creases. “Cindereddie? Look, I even lost my-” 

“Your shoe,” Steve snorts, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to usher him inside. “I know. Pretty sure Cinderella wore glass slippers though, not combat boots.” 

Eddie scoffs and waves him off, but he does allow himself to be pulled into the entrance hall and maneuvered onto the little bench there. 

“Shit, you're freezing,” Steve mutters. “Hold on, I'll get you something to dry off.”

By the time he returns with a stack of clean towels and dry clothes, Eddie has already peeled out of his flannel and jacket and is sitting there in all his wet, bare-chested glory, humming to himself and idly kicking his muddy feet. 

“Jesus,” Steve mutters, throwing a clean sweater at his face. “I don’t believe you. What are you trying to do, get pneumonia?”

He doesn’t wait for Eddie’s reply, just drops to his knees on the marble tiles and pulls off the muddy sock. It makes a wet squelching sound as he tosses it aside. He has just finished towelling off the naked foot and moved on to removing the boot from the other when Eddie speaks again.

“Will you help me find it?” 

He is speaking from inside the sweater, so his voice comes out a bit muffled. Steve frowns up at him. 

“Find wha- … your boot?”, he asks. Eddie pops his head out of the sweater, all disheveled hair and adorable puppy dog eyes. “What? Argyle can’t help you with that?”

“I’m sure he would,” Eddie shrugs, wiggling his naked toes happily. “But he isn’t my Prince Charming, so …” 

Steve feels himself flush. Suddenly, he’s acutely aware of the picture they’re making - himself kneeling by Eddie’s feet and taking off his boot, like some weird reenactment of the prince putting the lost glass slipper on Cinderella. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” he blurts, yanking the boot off a little too roughly and shooting to his feet to pull Eddie up and towards the staircase. “We can find your stupid shoe tomorrow when it’s light. Right now, you need to sleep that high off.”

Eddie leans into him as they wobble up the stairs, hair tickling Steve’s neck. 

“Will my prince give me a kiss goodnight?”

“Shut up,” Steve grouses. 

And if he does bend down to sweep the damp curls from Eddie’s sleeping face, once he has tucked him into bed in one of the guest rooms? And if he does press his lips to his forehead?

Nobody but him needs to know. 

If he’s lucky, maybe Eddie’s lost boot won’t be the only thing he finds tomorrow. Maybe he’ll actually muster up the courage to tell him how he feels. 

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