#I have no update schedule and just came to terms with that

[bishovapls]

Our Little One - Brats Don’t Get Soft, Brats Get Used.

Relationships: Natasha Romanoff & Wanda Maximoff & Reader

Summary: You’ve never been a brat before, but after weeks with Wanda and Natasha and Natasha still holding back, a nudge from your roommate Kate sets something in motion. What starts as a simple need soon turns into a dangerous game, and you’re about to learn what happens when the consequences catch up.

Warnings: 18+, Mommy kink, Daddy kink, age difference, older WandaNat/younger reader, BDSM, Dom/sub dynamics, spanking/lashing with a belt, punishment, smut, overstimulation, fingering, safe word check-ins, aftercare, minor angst.

A/N: Reader and Natasha’s first-time scene kept popping up in requests, so here we are! If I’ve replied to your other asks, those fics will be coming ASAP. If you’ve sent an ask and I haven’t responded yet, I promise I’m working through everything! Thanks so much for all your patience and love. Honestly, your asks, replies, and support for this series make me all warm and fuzzy inside 🩵

P.S. In terms of the timeline, this takes place after 'It Was Fate' and before 'You Make Such Pretty Sounds When You’re Sorry', both can be found in my masterlist.

Word Count: 14,578

NSFW below the cut, you can also read on AO3.

It had been a month since you’d stepped into the world Wanda and Natasha had so carefully, deliberately built around you, and though the shift had been gentle, almost imperceptible at first, you felt it now in everything. The change had crept in like water, soft and steady, reshaping the edges of your life without ever needing to crash through them. You hadn’t thought you needed structure. You certainly hadn’t expected to crave it. But once it was there, once their presence became a constant grounding force, you realised just how badly you’d needed to be held in place.

The rules didn’t arrive all at once. They were introduced slowly, one by one, always with a quiet firmness, never exactly forceful, but never optional either. And what surprised you most was how easily they slipped past the bedroom and settled into the rest of your life. They took root in the mundane, the overlooked, the messiest parts of your routine: your study habits, your sleep, your social outings, your tendency to forget yourself.

At first, you questioned the point of it all. Why they cared whether you skipped a meal or pulled another all-nighter. But it didn’t take long to understand. They were wholly, unflinchingly invested in you. In your well-being. In your peace. And in the simple, sacred truth that you were theirs.

It began with the essentials. Drink more water. Eat proper meals. Step outside and breathe. No more skipping breakfast or living on scraps between lectures. No more letting your body crumble under the weight of your own neglect. 

They didn’t leave it to chance, either. Wanda had set you up with a nutrition tracker, and Natasha synced it to a fitness app. Between the two of them, they monitored everything.

Then came the check-ins. If you weren’t with them, you were to check in twice a day: a brief morning text including how you slept, how you felt, and what was ahead for the day, and a call at night, no exceptions. You were to talk them through your day, tell them what had gone well, what hadn’t, and whether you needed anything, emotionally, physically, or otherwise. 

And college brought its own rules. You were to attend every class unless you were truly ill. And even then, they were to be informed immediately. Natasha had your entire academic schedule memorised, down to your deadlines and office hours, and if anything shifted, she expected an update. 

Your social life, limited though it was since you were far from a social being, had boundaries. You could go out, in fact, you were encouraged to do so, to have fun, to be young, to live, but never at the cost of safety. Drinking to excess was forbidden. Drugs and smoking, entirely off-limits. 

And you were not to be out alone after dark. If you did go out, it had to be with trusted friends. Your fitness tracker was to remain on, fully charged, and GPS active. That rule had been delivered with unflinching clarity. Natasha had stated it plainly, her tone leaving no room for argument. They needed to know where you were. That you weren’t walking alone, vulnerable and unseen. That if something happened, they’d know exactly where to find you.

To an outsider, it might’ve seemed overbearing and excessive. But to you, it was the opposite. It was everything. These rules weren’t restrictions, they were evidence, proof that someone saw you clearly enough to draw lines around your chaos and call it worth saving. 

And you wanted to be good for them. You lived for the quiet praise threaded through your evening calls, the warmth in Wanda’s voice when she told you she was proud, the low, satisfied hum Natasha would let slip when every rule had been followed to the letter. You craved their approval. Their attention. Their pride. Being obedient came naturally in most ways, and you basked in it. 

Except… food and water. That was the rule you just couldn’t seem to get right.

It wasn’t rebellion; not truly. Sometimes you simply didn’t want to cook, or the idea of eating twisted something unpleasant in your stomach. Sometimes coffee was just easier; it kept you upright, kept you moving. Other times, it wasn’t deliberate at all, just a blur of hours and tasks and noise. You got swept up in work, or you ate but forgot to log it, or maybe you downed nearly a litre of coffee before it even occurred to you that you hadn’t touched water. 

Whatever the reason, Wanda always noticed, calling with her voice full of concern. “When was the last time you ate?” she’d ask, and it wasn’t anger, it was disappointment, that would curl tight in your gut as you searched for a defence that never felt good enough.

The punishments for this were never too much, because they knew you were trying. But they were just enough to make you pause the next time your hand hovered over another cup of coffee and nothing else.

And part of you, ashamed as it was, needed that. Needed the accountability. The structure. The safety of knowing someone would catch you before you disappeared too far into yourself.

Still, even with all of it, the structure, the gentleness, the care stitched into every rule and ritual, something felt wrong. Not glaringly, not enough to shatter the sense of safety they’d built around you, but enough to unsettle, to gnaw at the edges of your thoughts when you were alone. It wasn’t the boundaries or the expectations, not the check-ins or the rules that governed your days. It was Natasha.

She was present and reliable in that steady, composed way of hers. She enforced the routine with silent efficiency, asked the questions that mattered, and made sure you kept your promises, to them and to yourself. But when it came to punishment, to intimacy, to that deeper level of connection you craved, she held back. And it wasn’t just that she didn’t discipline you, she hadn’t touched you. Not once.

You’d given yourself to them, inch by inch, until it didn’t feel like surrender anymore, but something closer to breathing. You’d let yourself fall, and Wanda had caught you. It was always Wanda.

It was Wanda who guided you, who punished you when you slipped, who praised you so sweetly your stomach turned to honey when you hadn’t. It was Wanda who took you apart in the dark, who knew how to coax you into obedience with nothing but a look, a sound, or a breath. Natasha either watched from the sidelines or, worse, left the room entirely. 

Last weekend was a perfect example. You knelt before Wanda, her voice calm and steady as she guided you through the mantras she’d been drilling into you. “I deserve to take care of myself… my body deserves fuel… my mind deserves rest…” You’d forgotten to eat again, too caught up in school, and so when you came to them, punishment was needed. But it wasn’t a punishment of pain; it was one of words and care that slowly cracked open your walls, breaking down the bad beliefs you’d carried all your life. 

At first, Natasha was there, quietly watching, even encouraging with small hums and soft smiles, but when your tears began to flow and your body shook, she left without a word. You didn’t know why; she never explained. Wanda shushed your whimpers, but it wasn’t enough, not when Natasha didn’t want you…again.

After the scene, when you dared to ask about it, Wanda’s answer only deepened the ache: “You’re just not ready for Daddy, malyshka (Little One).”

Those words echoed in your mind, not ready. As if Natasha was a threshold you hadn’t yet earned the right to cross. It made the ache of being good, of meeting every expectation, sting sharper. 

—

That’s why this week has been hard, with constant thoughts of Natasha swirling through your mind; each check-in only deepened your frustration. By the time Thursday arrived, your mood had darkened. The usual nightly check-in with the women went ahead, but beneath it all, you felt that familiar tightening in your chest, the heavy weight of the unspoken barrier still lingering between you and Natasha.

As always, you took the call just outside your dorm building, settling on the cold edge of the concrete steps beneath the weak glow of the overhead security light. The buzzing hum of it filled the silence between your own clipped replies and Wanda’s soothing voice, Natasha’s steadier one threading in near the end as she asked the usual questions about your meals, your steps, your classes. You answered them all. Obedient. Polite. But your tone was flatter than usual, each sentence a little shorter, and by the time you hung up, the tight coil of something unspoken was still sitting behind your ribs, refusing to unspool.

You pushed through the heavy dorm door and climbed the stairs two at a time, jaw tight, nails digging half-moons into your palms. When you opened the door to your shared room, Kate glanced up from her bed, where she sat cross-legged in an oversized hoodie, scrolling on her laptop. Her eyes caught your face instantly, her brows drew together, subtle but unmistakable, and the screen was forgotten within a heartbeat.

“Uhh… what’s up?” she asked, her voice cautious but laced with warmth, like she could sense your mood before you'd said a word.

“Nothing,” you muttered, too quickly, flinging your bag to the floor and flopping onto your bed with the kind of exaggerated indifference that only made your frustration more obvious.

Kate didn’t buy it for a second. She shifted to sit upright, her back resting against the wall. “Seriously?” she said with a small, incredulous laugh, but her eyes didn’t leave your face. 

You exhaled hard through your nose and rolled your eyes, reaching for your phone just to have something to fidget with. “You’re too nosy,” you said lightly, trying to deflect.

But Kate didn’t laugh this time. Her expression softened instead, concern overtaking the playfulness. “Maybe,” she said gently, “but I care, you know?”

The words landed heavier than you expected. You nodded once, a little jerk of your chin, your voice quieter when you finally said, “I know.”

“Then just talk to me?” she offered. Her hands were clasped loosely in her lap, but there was tension in her shoulders too, like she was trying not to push too hard, not to say the wrong thing, and watch you shut down.

You stayed silent for a moment, then sat up, legs pulled to your chest. You picked at a loose thread on your sleeve, not quite able to meet her eyes. “It’s… to do with the girlfriends,” you said finally.

Kate’s eyes flickered with interest, not curiosity in a nosy way, but a gentle attentiveness that said she’d been waiting for you to talk about them again. “Are you ever going to tell me who they are?” she asked, smiling just a little, trying to keep it light.

You smiled too, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Of course, you wanted to tell her. You trusted her. But Natasha’s voice echoed in your mind, cool and resolute, no one at college can know. Not even your roommate. She was right, of course. College gossip moved fast, and all it would take was one whisper in the wrong ear for everything to unravel.

“You know the rules,” you said, sharper than you meant to, and your jaw clenched as the anger returned, at the rule, at Natasha, at how far away she still felt even after a month.

Kate let out a quiet chuckle, raising a hand to trace a little X over her heart. “I do. But it could be our little secret. Cross my heart.”

You looked at her grin, and something in you softened, just a little.“Maybe soon,” you said, voice tight. “I don’t think it’ll be going on much longer anyway, so there will be no secret to keep.”

That hit her like a slap. Her eyes widened, her posture straightening instantly. “What? Wait, what do you mean?” she asked, voice sharp with shock, all traces of teasing gone.

You had told Kate about your situation with Wanda and Natasha pretty early on, after all, she’d pestered you half to death after your first night with them, all wide-eyed curiosity and relentless questions. You’d given her the basics: that they were your dommes, that it wasn’t just sex, not to them, not to you either. That they’d made it clear from the start that they wanted something more, something serious, something committed.

Over time, details had trickled out, mostly because they had to. The rules you lived by, the punishments you’d earned, the very explicit reasons you sometimes came home with marks so unmistakable they made Kate drop her fork. 

Kate never judged, never squirmed, or got awkward. It was embarrassing sometimes, yes, but it was also a relief to have someone who understood, who didn’t flinch at the language, at the power dynamics, at the weight of it all.

But you’d been careful, too. You’d kept their names to yourself, never once letting them slip. You hadn’t said where they lived, what they did, not even how old they were. You hadn’t even referred to them by title. It wasn’t mistrust, it was the rule. And more than that, it was something you instinctively honoured. Something Natasha had asked of you, and you hadn’t questioned it. You hadn’t wanted to.

Until now. Now, when everything felt like it was fraying. Now, when you couldn’t tell if you were still wanted, or just tolerated. 

And Kate was still watching you, her expression tight with worry, waiting for you to explain why you’d just said it might all be over.

“Hello? Earth to the emotionally tormented?” she teased softly when your silence stretched.

You blinked, snapping back to the moment, and let out a tired little laugh. “I’m here,” you muttered with a half-hearted shrug.

Kate raised one brow in that subtle, persistent way that said, Don’t even think about dodging this, her body leaning forward just slightly.

You sighed, pressing your fingers into your temples for a moment before finally exhaling the frustration that had been crawling under your skin. “It’s just… Domme Two, she’s got all these expectations,” you started, voice tight, like every word had to be pried out. “I try so hard. And still… she won’t touch me. She won’t see me. I’m so tired of it. I’m so tired of being good and getting nothing back.”

Kate’s expression shifted immediately. You’d mentioned Natasha’s distance once or twice before in passing, but it had never sounded quite like this. Back then, it was a curiosity, an oddity. Now, it was pain. Frustration.

“Still?” she echoed, disbelief softening into sympathy. “It’s been, what, over a month now?”

You nodded mutely, jaw tight. “Yup,” you said, popping the ‘p’ with bitter emphasis. “And I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, Kate. I try so fucking hard. I follow their rules, well, mostly,” you added with a dry, self-deprecating smile. “I give them everything they ask for. But when I ask…it’s always the same line: you’re not ready.” The words came out quieter, more vulnerable now, like they physically hurt to repeat.

Kate’s face twisted with something halfway between a wince and a thoughtful frown. “You know it might not be about you, right?” she said gently. “That maybe you are ready… but she isn’t?”

You scoffed, not unkindly, but with that weary kind of disbelief that comes from hoping for too long. “No, Domme One said, that I am not ready because Domme Two can be intense. That she is holding back so I don't get hurt.” You shook your head with a dry, humourless laugh. “But this hurts, too, Kate. Being held at arm’s length like I’m not worthy yet. And it’s not like I haven’t made it crystal clear that rough doesn’t scare me. Domme One and I have had scenes that I couldn’t even put into words if I tried.”

Kate stayed quiet for a moment, taking it all in. You could see the gears turning, the way she bit the inside of her cheek like she always did when she was trying to offer advice without sounding preachy.

“Well… if it’s eating at you this much, then I think you have to talk to them again,” she said eventually, voice calm but firm, the kind of tone she only used when she really meant it. “Like, properly. Not mid-scene. Not just after punishment. Really talk.”

“I have,” you snapped, your voice pitching higher than you meant it to. “I have talked. I’ve tried. I bring it up, and it’s just brushed aside like I’m being impatient.”

Kate sighed, but it wasn’t a condescending sigh; it was heavy, empathetic. You could see the careful way she was treading. She was always mature when it came to this, always level-headed when you weren’t, always calm when you were spiralling. 

“I get it,” she said softly. “I really do. But if something isn’t working for you, you have to keep pushing for a change. Communication’s everything, you know that.”

You slumped back against the bed, staring at the ceiling like maybe it would answer for you. “I’m just… tired of talking. Tired of giving my all and still being told I haven’t earned hers. I just wish there was something I could do.”

Kate was quiet again, but something in her posture shifted. Her lips twitched, just the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at one corner before she caught herself and quickly looked down, trying to hide it.

You sat up slightly, suspicious. “What? Kate. What is that look?”

She tried and failed to suppress a laugh. “Nothing. I just… shouldn’t say this. I definitely shouldn’t encourage this.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s never stopped you before. Come on. Spit it out.”

Kate hesitated, her smile turning fond now, as if whatever memory she was about to share brought her warmth despite the topic. “It’s just… I know what Yelena would do in your shoes.”

Your stomach flipped, your curiosity piqued. “Yeah? And what would Yelena do?”

Kate let out a slow breath. “Well, okay, so our dynamic isn’t like yours. It’s not built on rules and structure 24/7. But in scene, there are rules. And sometimes, when I’ve been… off, or distracted, or distant, because life, you know? Yelena will break a rule deliberately. Just enough to make me react. It’s her way of saying notice me, see me, feel something.”

Kate looked almost sheepish after saying it, like she wasn’t entirely sure whether she’d just offered you advice… or handed you a loaded weapon. But you heard it clearly.

A quiet rebellion. A strategic crack in obedience.

And the suggestion glittered in your mind like something dangerous and gleaming, like the glint of a match just before it hits the strike pad. It didn’t matter that it was reckless. All that mattered was that something inside you shifted, something coiled and bratty and starved for attention stirred, stretching awake for the first time.

You turned to Kate, an exaggerated gasp of mock offence on your lips. “Kate Bishop, are you suggesting I should be a brat?”

She laughed, the sound light and helpless. “I’m suggesting,” she said with careful precision, “that breaking a rule might actually get you the kind of reaction you’re craving. Especially if it’s one of Domme Two’s.”

Your brain had already taken off at a sprint, running through possibilities, rules, boundaries, hers, not Wanda’s. You grinned slowly, wickedly, a spark of something deliciously mischievous taking root. “You know,” you drawled, already shifting your weight like you were about to get up, “I’ve been thinking… a late-night stroll sounds like just the thing to clear my head.”

Kate blinked at you, her mouth opening slightly in disbelief before flattening into a line. “It’s midnight,” she said, deadpan. Her eyes narrowed a little as she sat straighter, arms folded, like she was already preparing to intervene. “Can you not pick a safer rule to break?”

You tilted your head and gave a lazy shrug, letting faux innocence smooth over your features. “It’s this, or smoking. Or, I don’t know… drugs.” You raised your eyebrows for dramatic effect.

Kate’s eyes widened in horror, her whole body recoiling like you’d just threatened to juggle knives in traffic. “Not. Funny,” she snapped, though the sharpness in her tone couldn’t quite hide the way her lips twitched at the edges.

Your grin only widened. “A little bit funny,” you said, voice dipping with smug satisfaction, because provoking her felt almost as fun as what you were planning.

Kate groaned and flopped back against the headboard, dragging a hand down her face. “Okay, but what about… I don’t know, don’t go to class tomorrow. Don’t message, don’t give an excuse. It’s safe. Passive-aggressive. You get to make a point.”

You wrinkled your nose, unconvinced, and gave a dismissive wave of your hand. “Too slow. I’m supposed to be with them tomorrow night anyway, and I want it sorted before then.”

Kate sat forward again, staring at you like you’d grown a second head. Her brows lifted with genuine disbelief, and she stared hard, like she was still holding out hope this was all a bit. “You are insane.”

You gave her a sly wink as you stood up, grabbing your coat and slipping it on. “No,” you replied, with a gleam in your eye and a dangerous lilt in your voice, “I’m just impatient. And possibly very, very stupid.”

Kate stood too, suddenly tense, hovering like she wasn’t sure if she should block the door or help you open it. “Okay, but please text me. Keep me updated. And when you inevitably get dragged back to wherever they live for the punishment of your entire life, I expect details.”

You paused with your hand on the doorknob, turning back with a wicked little smirk that curled slowly across your face. “I will. And hey, thanks for the advice,” you said, voice syrupy-sweet with mischief. 

Kate shook her head, muttering under her breath before sighing out loud. “God help you.”

And with that, the door clicked softly behind you, the hallway swallowing you up as you let the brat take the wheel, heart racing, nerves buzzing, a storm already forming on the horizon.

—

It took fifteen minutes of walking before your phone buzzed in your pocket. You didn’t even need to check the screen to know it was Natasha. The GPS tracker in your watch had no doubt lit up the moment you stepped beyond the perimeter she’d quietly defined.

You pulled the phone out, thumb hovering for a moment, then smiled, slow, sharp, and wicked, and let it ring out. One call. Then another. Then a third, her name flashing again and again like a warning light.

The next buzz wasn’t a call, it was your shared group chat, the one only used for schedules, check-ins, and rare moments of praise or correction outside sessions. 

D2: I thought you were staying home with Kate tonight?

You didn’t answer. Just opened it and continued walking, heading deeper into the park, where the glow of streetlamps filtered softly through leafless trees. The cold bit at your cheeks, but you welcomed it, anything that grounded you in the daring, dizzy satisfaction of rebellion.

D2: Why are you ignoring me? D1: Little one, are you okay?

That one gave you pause. You felt a flicker of guilt crack through the high of disobedience. This wasn’t about her. None of this was really her fault, yet you were treating her the same way, but you kept walking.

D2: You better be with Kate.

Her tone, even through text, was clipped, and you could practically feel her jaw clenched from miles away. Then another text came from Wanda, softer again.

D1: Please, let us know you are safe, Sweetheart. We’re worried.

That one stung. You hated that you’d made her worry, hated even more that it was necessary to make your point. You sighed and finally typed back, your fingers momentarily trembling from more than just the cold.

Me: I am safe. Going for a walk.

There were only a few seconds of silence before Natasha responded.

D2: Are you with Kate?

You stopped walking and stared at the message. This was it. The line you could still choose not to cross. The point of no return. You could lie. You could say yes and diffuse it all. But you didn’t want to.

You wanted to be seen. You wanted to matter. You wanted Natasha to stop treating you like a thing she could discipline from a distance but never touch.

Me: No.

You hit send before you could change your mind, before reason or fear could pull you back. Your heart was pounding, thudding against your ribs like it was trying to break free. This was what you wanted. This was the moment you’d imagined: the rule-breaking, the reckless defiance, the thrill of finally crossing a line that might force Natasha to stop keeping you at arm’s length.

But now that you were here, standing in it, the storm you’d so desperately wished for felt a lot less like a cleansing force and a lot more like a cliff edge you’d sprinted off without thinking.

Your phone buzzed.

D2: If I don’t see you turn around and walk back toward your dorm in the next five minutes, I will make sure you regret it.

You scoffed aloud, trying to laugh it off, even as a chill crawled up your spine. Just a threat, you told yourself. She wouldn’t actually do anything. 

Still, your fingers trembled as you shoved your phone back into your coat pocket. You found the nearest bench and sat down, hoping she’d see it as a clear fuck you. A message through the GPS tracker. I’m not moving.

You checked the chat again. Nothing.

Five minutes passed. Then six. Then ten.

You swallowed hard. The cold had begun to seep through your coat, and your heart had gone from hammering to something slower, deeper, more sickening. It wasn’t defiance anymore. It was dread.

You kept checking your phone, over and over, willing another message to come through, anything. 

But there was only that single, unanswered warning. Hanging in the chat like a blade. You shifted on the bench, suddenly too aware of the dark, too aware of the silence, and how very, very small you felt.

—

The cold had settled into your bones, your phone still lifeless in your hand as you debated if you should give up and go back. Every shadow looked like someone. Every sound made you flinch.

Then, suddenly, there was movement, footsteps crunching against the gravel path just behind you. You turned your head slightly, just enough to see the figure approaching, cloaked in shadows and the low light of the path. Hood up, head bowed, face largely obscured, their entire frame radiating purpose and rage.

A bolt of instinctive fear shot through your chest, and you shot to your feet, suddenly overcome with the sense that you were very much in danger. You began to move, your eyes flicking around for the clearest path out, but you didn't get far before the figure spoke. 

“Don’t walk away from me.”

You froze. Her voice was unmistakable, that distinct, deep coolness edged with steel, though this time it came layered with something that struck you harder than the anger. It was fear. 

You turned around slowly, your body betraying you with the smallest flinch. She walked straight up to you, steps tight and restrained, and you could see the way she was holding herself back, like she wanted to shake you, to shout, to do something, but instead she just looked. 

Her eyes swept over you with that terrifying, clinical intensity, checking for injuries, for damage, for blood. It was so fast and automatic that for a second you forgot how to breathe, caught somewhere between guilt and the bitter thrill of being seen.

When she was satisfied you were physically fine, she spoke again, her tone a mixture of disbelief and fury. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

The tone of her voice struck something inside you. You were still afraid, very much so, but the sight of her like this, eyes stormy and jaw tight, hit a nerve, and that tiny voice inside you, the brat, the desperate girl who wanted to be noticed, punished, wanted, made itself heard again.

You swallowed, lifted your chin slightly, and gave her a tiny, deliberate shrug.

Her nostrils flared, and she stared at you like she couldn’t believe the gall of you. You could feel the shift in her posture, that subtle straightening of her spine, the way her arms folded over her chest as if to stop herself from reaching for you. 

Then, slowly, her voice came again, firmer now. “I said, what…are you doing out here?”

You felt your heart hammering harder. She wasn’t yelling, but the low cadence of her voice, restrained and disappointed, pierced through your bravado like nothing else could. You knew she was giving you a chance. An opportunity to back down before this turned into something bigger. But some small, desperate part of you didn’t want to take it.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, chest tightening under the weight of her stare. And then, as if to keep yourself from unravelling completely, you shrugged again, a deliberately casual movement, bordering on insolent.

You didn’t look at her when you answered. “I told you, just going for a walk.” The words left your lips softer than you intended, but they carried that unmistakable edge, that deliberately sweetened defiance, like a dare dressed up in innocence. 

Her gaze dropped briefly to the ground, like she was swallowing a surge of something, rage, maybe, and when she lifted it again, her eyes were dark, unreadable, and burning. Then came her voice, thick with warning, the words precise enough to cut. “You know that’s against the rules, Little Girl.”

The title landed like a stone dropped in still water. Little Girl. Not Little One, not the soft name they called you during gentle praise, check-ins, or affectionate aftercare. This one was different, used only in the lead-up to punishment. 

Wanda was usually the one to wield it when you were truly in trouble. Hearing it from Natasha now made your stomach twist. Not with fear, not exactly, but with heat, with something volatile and reckless and stupidly brave.

And still, rather than shrinking under it, something inside you bloomed. The very thing you’d come out here chasing was now rising in front of you, and it made your pulse thunder. 

You lifted your chin, eyes blazing with defiance, and let the words fall, slow and deliberate, each one laced with venom. “You don’t own me.”

Her hand shot out and closed around your upper arm, not harshly, but with enough weight to send your heart racing. She was close now, close enough that you could feel her body heat, the cold in her breath, the rage simmering beneath her skin.

“Move.” The word wasn’t a request. Not a suggestion. It was a command, weighted with disappointment.

She didn’t shove, instead, she stepped closer, hand still curled around your arm before it slid, slowly, deliberately to the back of your neck. Her palm was warm against your skin, firm and unyielding, fingers splaying just enough to ground you, to remind you that you now had nowhere to go.

She turned you around with that grip, directing you out of the park and towards the car like it was the most natural thing in the world, like you were hers to move. 

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. It barely came out. “Where are we going?” you asked, though the answer had already begun to form in your mind.

Her reply was flat. “Home. I think we need to talk. Don’t you?”

You didn’t answer. The silence pressed thick against your tongue, your mouth dry with the realisation of how far you’d taken it. 

The walk was silent, but inside your head, it was anything but. Regret bloomed, not just for breaking the rule, but for how deliberately you’d done it, for how you’d baited her. But it was too late now. You could feel her eyes on you in short bursts, reading your silence, calculating what to do with you.

But underneath the guilt, the fear, the cold anticipation curling in your gut… was something else. Something reckless and alive. Something that felt horrifyingly like satisfaction. Because for the first time in weeks, Natasha was fully focused on you

She was here. She was angry. And she was going to do something about it.

—

At home, Wanda was waiting for both of you, wrapped tightly in her dressing gown, the fabric clutching her as if it could shield her from the worry etched deep across her face. Guilt hit you like a punch to the chest. She must have been asleep, or at least resting, before you’d disturbed her with your behaviour.

“Malyshka (Little One), are you okay?” Wanda’s voice was gentle, almost trembling with concern, enough to make your defiance falter for a moment. 

But before you could answer, Natasha cut in sharply, her tone rougher than usual. “Don’t be soft with her. She’s fine. She’s just got an attitude.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a sharp huff, the brat inside you rising up despite the knots of fear and guilt tightening in your stomach.

Wanda stared at you, wide-eyed and clearly shocked. In all the time you’d known her, she’d never seen this side of you. 

“See what I mean?” Natasha sneered, gesturing with her hand towards you. 

Wanda simply nodded, the warmth in her eyes dimming, her disappointment unspoken but suffocating.

“Take off your shoes and coat, then go sit down,” Natasha ordered, her voice firm and unyielding.

You obeyed, more out of habit than willingness. The house was warm, too warm for your heavy coat, and it felt like a small relief peeling it off.

You settled onto the couch, feeling the soft cushions give beneath you. Both of them followed. Natasha perched on the coffee table across from you, her eyes sharp and unreadable, while Wanda settled on the far side of the couch. 

The distance stung. Wanda never sat so far away, never kept so much space between you. She was usually the one who reached out, always touching, always close. Tonight, that familiar comfort was gone, replaced by an uncomfortable void.

“You have one chance to explain yourself, Little Girl,” Natasha sneered, her voice low and sharp, each word weighted with warning.

“Why should I?” you shot back, the defiance bubbling up before you could stop it. Wanda’s eyes went wide again, her breath catching at seeing you push back like this. Natasha’s face, however, was unreadable.

Then, unexpectedly, she let out a dark chuckle and leaned in closer, her fingers curling around your jaw with a firm grip. “You know, I don’t think I like this side of you,” she murmured, her voice almost a threat.

You pulled away, pressing yourself back into the cushions, refusing to give her the satisfaction of your discomfort. “Well, you clearly don’t like the other side either,” you shot back, a sharp edge to your words. “So, two for two.”

A flicker of shock crossed Natasha’s face. “What? What the hell do you mean?” she demanded, the cool mask slipping for just a moment.

You shrugged, but this time the gesture was less about defiance and more about uncertainty. You genuinely didn’t know how to explain it, how could you say that she did everything perfectly, except for the one thing that tore at you the most, without sounding like some needy, whiny brat?

Natasha waited, her eyes locked on you. But when you stayed silent, her gaze sharpened, cutting through the heavy stillness like a whip. “Speak to me. Stop acting like a little brat,” she demanded.

You snapped back, frustration bubbling over. “Or what? You’ll just send me off to Wanda for a punishment?” Your tone rose, raw and challenging.

A guttural growl rumbled from Natasha, dark, fierce, edged with raw anger. “Is that what this is? You want punishment? You’re craving it? Is that why you’re acting like this?” Her voice sliced through the silence, thick with heat and frustration, scorching the air between you.

And that’s when it broke, because once again she was missing the point entirely. You shook your head, voice trembling under the weight of it all. “No, that’s not it!” Your breath hitched, tears beginning to spill down your cheeks as your voice cracked open. “I want you to believe I’m enough. I want you to need me the way I need you. I want you to be in this, like I am.” The words came out ragged, raw, breaking free with all the desperation you’d been holding in.

Wanda shifted beside you, her worry carved deep into her face, but your world had shrunk to Natasha’s gaze, searching, pleading, trying to find any flicker of softness beneath the armour she wore like a shield.

And then, something shifted. Natasha’s hard edges softened ever so slightly. Her hand reached out, landing on your knee. You jerked back, instinct screaming to retreat, but she held you firmly, grounding you in place. “You are enough,” she said, voice lower now, rougher with unshed emotion. 

She swallowed hard, steadying herself like she was forcing the words past a barricade. “Have I not shown you? When I drive you to school, and we sing like fools? When we curl up on the couch, just holding each other? When we sit and play your video game together? How is that not enough proof I’m in this?”

Her voice trembled, frustrated, wounded, desperate for you to see it.

“You don’t understand, Natasha,” you sobbed, your voice breaking under the weight of a thousand tangled feelings. “You don’t see what I mean.”

“Then tell me,” she whispered, voice cracked and almost desperate. “Please. Tell me what you want.”

You bit your lip, trying desperately to hold back the flood, but the dam finally broke. “I want more.” Your voice cracked. “I know it sounds selfish, needy, maybe even greedy. I love the tenderness, the quiet moments we share... but I want Daddy.” 

Your hands clenched into fists as the words poured out, raw and urgent, laced with a pleading edge. “I want you to touch me, to punish me, to let me please you. I want you with me in the scenes, not just watching, or walking away like you have been lately.” The confession hung thick and heavy between you. Your voice dropped to a whisper, barely steady. “When you leave... it hurts.”

Natasha’s shoulders sagged, the weight of your words sinking into her with visible force, dragging something raw and unguarded to the surface. Her gaze dropped to her hands, jaw clenched tight. “I just…” she began, the words barely above a whisper, “I’m scared, Little One. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Her fingers twisted in her lap, restless, unsure. “I’m not used to being careful. You’re… you’re so soft. So good. And I look at you and all I can think is… what if I break her?” She paused, breath shaky, as if the confession itself wounded her. 

“And sometimes… sometimes it all gets too heavy, because I want it so badly, but I can’t push past the fear, so I pull away. That’s when I walk. It’s not about you. It’s me... I’m scared.”

You watched her closely, your own heart aching now, but not with shame or anger. Just understanding. “You told me you were done being scared,” you reminded her gently. “And I’m not scared, Nat.”

Her eyes finally met yours, glassy with hesitation.

“I know I’ve struggled to use ‘red’ before,” you admitted softly, your voice thick, “but I’m getting better. Wanda and I have had scenes way more intense than anything I could’ve handled before, and I’ve called red when I needed to. I’ve used yellow, too. I’ve communicated. I’ve grown.” You reached out, fingers brushing the back of her hand. “I need you to trust that. To trust me. The way I trust you.”

Natasha stared at your hand, at the quiet, open gesture you were offering her. For a long moment, the silence stretched between you again, thick, trembling. And then, slowly, she turned her palm up, lacing her fingers through yours with a quiet breath that sounded like surrender.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her thumb tracing a circle over your knuckles. “You’re right. You’ve been growing into exactly what we asked of you. And I’ve been too scared to meet you there.”

You nodded, breath hitching as the last of your tears clung stubbornly to your lashes. “Then meet me now,” you whispered, voice small but steady.

Natasha stilled for a heartbeat. Her eyes found yours, and in them, something shifted, slow but undeniable. The fear didn’t vanish, not entirely, but it softened around the edges, tempered by something far stronger. Resolve. Acceptance. Want.

“Alright,” she said at last, voice low and certain. “No more running.”

She leaned in, her hand rising to your face, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your chest ache. Her touch was warm, grounding, but her eyes were lit with something far darker, deeper, a glint of control that made your pulse stutter.

“If we do this,” she murmured, her voice low and edged with warning, “we do it my way. You say you want the real me? Then that’s what you’ll get. Do you understand?”

You swallowed, nodded, lips parting as the weight of her words settled into your bones. “Yes, Daddy,” you breathed, the title wrapping around you like silk and steel all at once.

A flicker of a smirk ghosted across her lips then, subtle but deadly, the kind of look that promised things you’d only dared to imagine. 

“Good girl,” she said, and the praise sent a shiver through your entire body.

She leaned in just slightly closer, her voice dipping into that tone that curled heat low in your belly. “Go upstairs,” she instructed. “Take off your clothes. Wait on your knees.” She paused, her smile sharpening as her eyes drank in the way your breath caught. “And then we’ll see, won’t we, just how much you want your Daddy.”

—

You nodded with a single, frantic jerk of your head, too overwhelmed to speak, and then your body was moving on instinct, quick, almost clumsy in your desperation to obey. All you could focus on was the wild drum of your heartbeat and the racing thoughts that flooded your head like a storm surge. 

Upstairs, you fired off a quick text to Kate, fingers barely steady, then moved as if pulled by some invisible thread. Each piece of clothing came off with shaking hands, your breath catching as cool air kissed your skin. You folded everything neatly, placing the stack on the chair in the corner like a silent offering; a small, desperate proof that even if you’d slipped today, even if you'd been bad, you still wanted, needed to be good for them.

And then you dropped to your knees. The position was second nature by now, knees pressed into the carpet, thighs spread just enough, spine long and straight, shoulders relaxed but not slouched. Hands rested lightly on your thighs, palms down, fingers splayed slightly. Your head bowed low in submission. 

You didn’t dare fidget, didn’t shift or speak. You simply waited, every nerve on fire, every breath shallow, until finally the door creaked open behind you.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t lift your head.

“She’s very well trained, my love,” Natasha said eventually, her tone cool and measured, discussing you rather than addressing you. “But she still made the choice to disobey.”

Silence followed, thick and weighted until Wanda finally spoke. Her voice was softer, edged with sorrow rather than anger, but the pain in it was unmistakable. “She scared me.”

The words sliced through the room like a knife, lodging somewhere deep in your chest. Yet you didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare interrupt.

“I know,” Natasha murmured, taking a slow step forward. The sound of her boots was almost echoing in the quiet. “She scared me, too.”

Then her hand was in your hair, threading through it from crown to nape in a way that was far from comforting. She gripped you just tightly enough to tilt your head upward, to force your eyes to meet hers. “Look at me.”

You did. You had no choice. Her eyes were fire and stone, and though the fury had dimmed, the disappointment was still there, etched into every line of her face. You felt like you might fall apart just from looking at her.

“We gave you rules,” she said, slowly, carefully, as if daring you to pretend otherwise. “And you broke them.”

Your voice caught in your throat, and all you could do was nod, shame coursing through you like poison.

“And now,” she said, as her presence shifted into something sharper, more commanding, “you’re going to show us exactly how sorry you are.”

Then came the sound, it was unmistakable, the low slide of leather slipping free from its loops. Natasha’s belt.

Your heart stuttered, catching mid-beat. The room was still, that single sound landing like thunder between the three of you. Her footsteps moved again, coming to a stop in front of you. 

“I’m not like Wanda,” Natasha said evenly, her gaze steady. “I don’t often give out spankings or lashings... but after today, I think you need that, don’t you?”

You nodded, throat too tight to speak.

“I’ll be using my belt,” she went on, tone clipped, precise. “You will count each strike. And you will thank me for it.”

Your mouth felt dry as dust; your hands trembled faintly where they rested, but when your voice came, it was steady, quiet, and certain.“Yes, Daddy.”

Natasha stood before you, quiet for a moment, the belt coiled in her hand like a promise. Her eyes searched your face. You could feel her gaze digging through the layers of your submission, past the trembling anticipation and the guilt still curling tight in your chest, looking for anything that might signal hesitation or fear you hadn’t voiced.

Then she knelt, and that alone made your breath hitch. You never expected her to kneel, not when she was in control. But tonight, she needed you to see her. Not as the distant, unreadable force you'd grown so used to. Not as someone just watching from the sidelines. She needed you to understand that she was here, fully and completely.

One hand lifted to cup your jaw, thumb brushing just under your eye where the dried tracks of earlier tears lingered. You leaned into it instinctively.

“Colour,” she asked quietly, voice low and deliberate. Her gaze was sharp but not unkind. “Right now. Speak it.”

You swallowed hard, your voice small but certain. “Green.”

“Good girl,” she said softly, but the weight of it sent a shiver down your spine. “You tell me if that changes. Understood?”

You nodded, then corrected yourself immediately. “Yes, Daddy.”

She rose in one smooth movement, the belt now unfurling in her hand as she stepped back around behind you. “You’ll take ten,” Natasha said, voice firmer again now. “Five for the disobedience. Five for the attitude.”

Your fingers curled slightly against your thighs, nails biting into your skin just enough to focus you.“Yes, Daddy.”

“Up,” Natasha said, and your body obeyed before your mind caught up. As you rose, Natasha glanced over at Wanda, giving the smallest nod. It was permission, an invitation to let her join in.

Wanda stepped forward, her touch gentle as she guided you to the edge of the bed. “Hands on the mattress, knees apart, back straight,” she whispered, her tone soothing yet firm.

You positioned yourself carefully, muscles taut beneath your bare skin, vulnerable and exposed as you bent forward at the hips. Your bottom lifted just enough for Natasha to take aim. The air between you thickened, every breath heavy with a charged expectation that made your pulse race.

Natasha gave a few slow, deliberate practice swings through the air, the belt hissing softly as it cut through the quiet.

Then she stepped closer, her hand gliding over your bare skin with a touch so gentle it nearly undid you, a final stroke of calm before the storm. “You ready?” she murmured, her voice low and controlled.

You nodded, already breathless. “Yes, Daddy.”

She hummed, almost in approval, and then the belt struck.

A sharp, clean crack shattered the stillness, the leather snapping against the curve of your right cheek with devastating accuracy. The pain bloomed instantly: white-hot, searing, a jolt that stole the air from your lungs and replaced it with fire. It rippled through you, lighting your nerves with something that felt just a hair’s breadth from too much.

You gasped, muscles tightening reflexively, heart pounding wildly. “One,” you whispered, breath trembling, cheeks flushed with a warmth deeper than the sting alone. “Thank you, Daddy.”

The belt snapped down again, landing clean against your left cheek with a cruel crack that made your whole body jump. This time, a soft whimper caught in your throat, the sensation sharper, deeper. But an involuntary shiver rippled through your body as pain began to mingle with an unexpected, tantalising pleasure.

“Two. Thank you, Daddy,” you breathed, voice breathy, almost lost beneath the rush of sensations flooding through you.

Three. Four. The belt traced searing lines of fire across your skin, each lash both agony and ecstasy, sending sparks through your muscles and igniting a blaze deep inside you. The heat spread, radiating outward, consuming and thrilling, your senses alive with every crack.

By the fifth strike, tears welled unbidden in your eyes. The pain was intensifying with every lash over the already tender skin; the pleasure was threatened, pushed to the edge. You were just about to call yellow when Natasha paused, pulling back slightly.

“You’re halfway there, Kotenok (kitten),” she said, her voice thick with pride and heat. “You’re doing so well.”

The brief reprieve and her gentle praise dulled the sting, and suddenly the ache softened. You felt steady again, caught between resistance and surrender, pain and delight, a heady cocktail that left you dizzy, breathless, desperate for more.

After a moment, the final lashes came faster, harder, each one a burning punctuation searing deeper into your flesh and soul. Your breath hitched in ragged gasps, low moans slipping free on the ninth and tenth strikes, before you finally whispered, “Ten, thank you, Daddy,” voice cracking as a shudder rippled through your body. Tears streamed freely now, pain fierce and unrelenting, skin flushed hot and humming with fire.

Behind you, Wanda’s hands were gentle and steady, soothing your trembling back with tender caresses that gradually melted the blaze to warmth. “Good girl, you did so well, baby,” she murmured, voice thick with affection.

You remained bent forward, breath shallow and ragged, every nerve alive and buzzing with a fierce, aching bliss. The pain had broken you open, cracked you wide, and beneath it all burned an exhilarating, desperate hunger.

Natasha lifted you carefully, mindful not to touch your sensitive skin, and eased you face down onto the bed, a soft pillow cushioning your head. Her fingers stroked the side of your face, warm and steady, before she pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You look exquisite, Kotenok (kitten). Your ass is such a beautiful shade of purple and red,” she praised softly.

“That was the first time you’ve taken a belt, wasn’t it, sweetheart?” Wanda’s voice was filled with pride, gentle and amazed.

You hummed softly in response.

Natasha’s chuckle was low and indulgent, her eyes glinting with something between adoration and pride. “You knew you wouldn’t get off with just a normal spanking from me,” she murmured, tracing the outline of the belt’s work. “But you took it beautifully, Printessa (princess). You were perfect.”

You let out a breathy, dreamy little giggle, face half-buried in the pillow. Your body felt loose, heavy, but warm all over, floating somewhere between bliss and exhaustion. “Didn’t break,” you whispered, the words lilting with smugness even as your voice slurred just a little. “Told you, Daddy.”

Natasha smiled, slow and fond, brushing her knuckles along your cheek. “No, you didn’t. Tough little thing, aren’t you?” Before her hand drifted back down to gently stroke the heated swell of your ass. The touch still made you flinch, the burn raw and aching, but it was grounding, anchoring, laced with something that made your stomach flutter again.

Wanda returned with some lotion, her steps soft and measured. “Nat, you take the edge off, I’ve got this,” she said, nodding toward the bed. Natasha climbed up beside you, cradling your head in her lap, one hand carding through your hair while the other cupped your jaw.

“Lotion’s coming, baby,” Wanda murmured as she settled behind you, warming it in her hands. “Ready?”

“Mhm, yeah…” You breathed. Your hips twitched when the first touch landed, cool and tender, Wanda’s fingers expertly massaging the sting away. Your thighs parted instinctively, knees shifting wider for no reason at all, just a gesture of pure submission. Wanda said nothing, just smiled behind you, pleased by the automatic surrender.

Meanwhile, Natasha was stroking her fingers through your hair, whispering soft reassurances about how good you were. It made you smile, you felt held, so safe. “You can be soft,” you murmured, nuzzling into Natasha’s thigh with a sleepy grin. “You try to be scary, but you’re soft, Daddy. So soft.”

Natasha chuckled darkly. “You’ve got quite the mouth for someone still trembling and glowing red, Printessa (princess),” she murmured, her voice silky but edged with warning, clearly not thrilled that you were seeing her as soft after she’d just whipped your ass with a belt. “Maybe you need more, huh?”

You let out a soft, drowsy little laugh. “Nooo,” you groaned dramatically, drawing out the syllable with petulant flair. “I’ll be good now. Promise. My butt’s on fire…”

“Oh, you definitely earned that fire, Little One,” Wanda said, though you could hear the smile in her voice. “I’ve never seen you act out like that,” she added, continuing to smooth the lotion over your skin with slow, practiced care. Each gentle stroke sent a fresh, cooling wave over your burning flesh, only to leave behind a new warmth, softer, deeper, impossible to ignore, and your body gave a faint, involuntary shiver.

You turned your head slightly, cheek pressing against Natasha’s thigh, blinking at her through heavy lashes. “I’m sorry, Mommy,” you murmured, your voice syrupy and slow, thick with the weight of submission. “Didn’t mean to…” You trailed off with a pout, though your tone made it clear the apology wasn’t entirely sincere.

Natasha snorted quietly, amused, and her fingers slid through your hair, combing gently. “Don’t give us that act,” she said with that wicked little twist to her voice. “You absolutely meant to. You were poking the bear on purpose.”

You giggled again, dreamy and far too pleased with yourself, nuzzling into her hand like a kitten drunk on affection. “Okay… yeah, I did,” you admitted, cheek pressed to the sheets. “But I got what I wanted, sooo… clearly I should be a brat more often.”

Wanda let out a soft gasp of mock outrage and landed a light, open-palmed swat to your thigh, her skin still slick with lotion. The sensation made you jump, but not from pain. Your breath caught on a whine, your hips giving the smallest, shameless wiggle.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Wanda teased, palm pausing to stroke along the back of your thigh in lazy arcs. “You be our good girl, or you’ll be wearing welts like these every day of the week.”

“Mmm…” You squirmed again, an indulgent little sound escaping you, high and heady. “Maybe I liked it,” you whispered with a hazy smile, too dazed and floaty to even try masking the way your voice trembled at her touch. “Felt…good.”

Natasha leaned down slowly, her body brushing yours just enough to feel the weight of her attention, and you stilled completely, lips parting as her breath ghosted against your ear. “You’re lucky you’re adorable when you’re like this,” she murmured, voice a velvet growl. “Otherwise, I’d start again.”

The words slid down your spine like warm honey, thick and sinful, and before you could stop it, your toes curled tight and a soft, breathless moan escaped your lips, small and accidental, but full of exposed, aching need.

Wanda chuckled behind you, one hand still resting low across your backside, her thumb now stroking gently just under the curve. “Thought you said you didn’t want more, Little One,” she teased lightly, though her voice was already laced with something warmer, deeper.

“I don’t…” You mumbled, your face flushed, trying not to squirm beneath both their eyes. “No more hits anyway…”

Natasha tilted her head, her fingers slipping down to trace over your jaw with a feather-light touch. “Is there something you do want?”

You nodded, once, shy and breathless.

“Words,” Natasha said, her tone still wrapped in that low, velvety timbre, but sharpened with command. “Tell us what’s happening in that pretty little head of yours.”

You swallowed hard, struggling to gather your scattered thoughts as Natasha’s voice curled around you, turning everything inside into a slow, smouldering fire, and Wanda’s fingers traced their deliberate, torturous path across your skin, the soft pads gliding slowly over the raised, welted ridges. 

“Mommy’s hands…” You breathed, barely able to get the words out, your voice catching and cracking as your thighs trembled, your hips shifting restlessly beneath the weight of their attention, “they’re making me… everything’s so sensitive, feels good, Daddy… I wanna be touched…wanna cum…”

The last word left you on a broken whimper, fragile and pleading, not even a full breath of sound, but it was enough. 

“Who do you want, Little One?” Natasha asked, her voice was still on the gentle side, and you could feel her thumb brushing deliberately against your temple, grounding you, holding you, even as the rest of her loomed like a storm waiting to strike. “Me? Wanda? Or both of us?” she asked, and you could hear the smirk in her voice, the way she already knew the answer.

Your lashes fluttered, and your face burned, and you couldn’t stop the grin that pulled at your lips even through the haze, cheeky and unrepentant. “Both,” you mumbled, your voice thick with need, your whole body thrumming with it. “Wanna feel both of you…”

Behind you, Wanda chuckled, the sound low and indulgent as she let her nail trail with sudden, shocking pressure along one of the rawer welts across your ass. “Greedy little thing,” she purred. “Didn’t we just finish punishing you?”

“Mhmm,” Natasha murmured, her voice dark with amusement, and her grin only widened as she let your head slip from her lap and lowered it gently onto the pillow. “And now she’s begging for her reward like the little brat she clearly is.” She rose smoothly, her body uncoiling behind you with slow, predatory grace.

Wanda climbed fully onto the bed, her body close, her thigh pressing warmly against yours as she knelt beside you, a steady presence at your side. 

Natasha moved behind you, lowering herself until she could pry your legs open further. Her breath hitched as her gaze fell between them, and any lingering restraint she had vanished in an instant. 

You were drenched, unmistakably aroused despite the punishment, and the sight of it lit something deep and primal in her. “Look at you,” she said, her voice cold and amused, “So wet from being hurt.”

Her fingers finally made contact, just the barest drag of her fingers between your slick folds, slow and cruelly restrained. Your breath hitched hard, your body pushing backwards into her before her hand slammed down against your thigh with a sharp, stinging crack that echoed through the room and left your skin burning.

“Beg,” she ordered, and you whimpered, already on the edge of falling apart.

“Please…” you whispered, barely more than a breath.

Another slap came down, sharper this time. “Louder,” she demanded, her voice firm and unwavering.

“Please, Daddy,” you gasped, your voice hoarse and broken, tears stinging your eyes already. I want your fingers, need you so bad, please—”

“Better,” Natasha growled, and then she gave you exactly what you’d asked for, two fingers plunging into you with no warning, a raw yelp tearing from your throat as she pushed into you. Wanda’s nails raked down your spine again in long, devastating lines that made your whole body twist and writhe, pleasure and pain tangling so tightly you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

“Brats don’t get soft,” Natasha snarled, her breath hot against your skin. There was no gentleness, just her fingers working you over, every thrust designed to split you open. “Brats get used.”

“And you love it, don’t you?” Wanda whispered against your ear, her lips brushing the shell of it as she slipped a hand beneath you, and to your chest, cupping your breast and teasing your nipple with her thumb.

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Natasha’s fingers were hitting deep inside of you and the mattress below you was just slightly stimulating your clit with each thrust, every nerve in your body was screaming, burning, begging for release already.

Clearly, Natasha could tell, too. “Hold still,” she barked, voice sharp and unforgiving. “Don’t move a fucking inch until I say. And don’t even think about cumming.”

Wanda’s hand was soft against your chest, a twisted counterpoint to the violence behind you, her touch gentle and slow, grounding you as your whole body trembled violently beneath them both.

You tried to obey her, to stay still, to keep your hips steady even as your body screamed with the effort, but you were falling apart, unravelling beneath their hands, beneath her voice, beneath the hot, wet drag of your own tears against your cheek where your face pressed into the sheets. 

The moans slipped out, soft and broken, catching in your throat like sobs, and your fingers clawed uselessly at the bedding, trying to anchor yourself to something while Natasha kept fucking you with those unrelenting, merciless strokes that hit so perfectly deep you could hardly remember what breathing felt like.

“Daddy,” you gasped, voice hoarse and shaking, “Please, Daddy. Fuck! Please—” You weren't exactly sure what you wanted, you think it was for her to never stop, to live inside you, but you couldn't be sure, considering your body was begging for release at the same time. 

Her grip on your hip only tightened, holding you exactly where she wanted you, making sure you couldn’t squirm away, couldn’t fuck yourself down harder to chase what she was refusing to give, and her other hand kept moving, curling inside you just right.

Wanda’s hand moved to your jaw, cradling it gently, her thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped free, her voice achingly soft by contrast, a warm thread through the storm. “You’re doing so well,” she whispered, her lips brushing your temple, “Let her hear it. Show her how much you need her.”

Your mouth opened again, but the words caught on a sob this time, raw and full of surrender, your chest heaving beneath the weight of everything you felt, need, shame, longing, adoration, so thick and tangled inside you it made your throat ache to speak.

Wanda watched carefully, ensuring you were both safe in this intense moment. Her fingers tightened around your jaw, holding your head still as she kissed your temple, again and again, whispering encouragement against your skin in a voice like balm, gentle, grounding, loving, everything Natasha was not in that moment, and it made the contrast all the more unbearable.

“That’s it,” Wanda murmured, her lips brushing your ear as Natasha’s rhythm grew more punishing. She knew you physically couldn't last much longer, after all, she had more experience with your body than Natasha did. So she gave you the permission you needed. “Come on, baby. Let go.”

And you did. You released around Natasha’s fingers with a raw, keening cry that spilled from your throat, your body convulsing with the force of it, the orgasm tearing through you like a wave too big to fight. 

Your whole body trembled under the weight of it, hips jerking, legs shaking, tears spilling freely now as Natasha held you steady and fucked you through it, relentless until your sobs turned into whimpers, until your cries dissolved into breathless, broken moans.

Even then, she didn’t stop.

You cried out, high and sharp, your thighs trying to close instinctively, but she forced them open with her legs, her breath hissing between her teeth as she leaned into you like a predator cornering its prey.

“Oh no,” she murmured, almost laughing, her voice husky and low, thick with dark delight. “You don’t get to run from it now. You begged for this, remember?”

And then Natasha leaned forward, her body pressing flush against your back, and the pace of her fingers changed again, faster, harder, brutal in their precision as they fucked into you with relentless, single-minded force, every thrust driving the air from your lungs and making your eyes roll back. “So now you’re gonna take it, shlyukha (slut). You’re gonna take everything I give you until I say you’ve had enough.”

You sobbed, unable to help it, your voice catching in your throat as your whole body jerked with the sensitivity. It burned, every nerve raw and open, as her fingers were working that throbbing spot deep inside you, dragging more pleasure out of you than your body could handle, pushing you toward a second high before the first had even finished crashing over you.

“I c…can’t,” you gasped, words broken by ragged breath, your hands scrabbling uselessly against the sheets as the pressure built again with terrifying speed. “It’s too much, Daddy! Please…please I can’t—”

“You can,” she snarled, cutting you off with a vicious curl of her fingers that made you scream into the mattress, your legs kicking uselessly as she pinned you down. “You will. If I want more, you will take more. Don’t care if you’re crying. Don’t care if you’re shaking. You either safe word, or you take it like the whore you begged to be.”

Her voice was steel, but Wanda’s hands remained soft where they cupped your face, her fingers stroking your cheeks, catching your tears as they kept falling, her thumbs brushing them away with unbearable gentleness. She kissed your brow, your temple, the tip of your nose, her voice a slow, steady rhythm of quiet reassurance in your ear.

“You’re okay,” Wanda murmured, again and again, her lips barely moving against your skin. “You’re safe. You can do this, darling.”

You were trembling violently now, sobbing openly, but you didn’t ask her to stop. You didn’t want her to stop. Not really. Somewhere deep beneath the overwhelm, beneath the overstimulation and the ache spreading through your thighs and belly and chest, was the desperate part of you that needed to be taken apart, to be used and ruined until there was nothing left.

Natasha added another finger, her fingers soaking wet as they filled you again and again, her palm slapping wetly against you with every thrust. 

“Pathetic,” she growled, mouth against your ear, teeth scraping your skin. “Fucking sobbing. Crying like you hate it, but you’re clenching around me like you’d die if I stopped.”

And she was right, you were so close again it hurt, so full of her, so overstimulated and desperate that every thrust felt like fire, like drowning, like you couldn’t tell where the pain ended and the pleasure began anymore. 

You screamed her title, a ragged, half-broken wail into the mattress, but Wanda’s voice answered yours like a balm. “That’s it, sweet girl,” she whispered. “Let it break you. Let her take you all the way down.”

Natasha’s fingers continued moving, curling and thrusting deep inside you, each movement sharper, harder, more demanding than the last, her grip on your hip like iron as she drove you closer to that edge where everything blurred and shattered at once. 

Your breath hitched, short and desperate, your body trembling so violently that your fists clenched the sheets until your nails bit into the fabric, white-knuckled and raw. “Please… please, Daddy…” you gasped, voice fading at the edges, “Please!”

Wanda kissed the crown of your head, her hands drifting over your back, tracing slow, tantalising paths along the scratches she’d left behind earlier.

“Hmm,” Natasha murmured, voice thick with amused cruelty. “You think you deserve a second, brat? After what you did today?”

You tried to steady yourself, to keep control, but your hips jerked involuntarily against her hand. Your voice was strained, trembling with a shameful desperation. “Please…”

Natasha’s voice was low, husky, with that unmistakable edge of command laced in every syllable. “Not good enough,” she said, her tone rough, dark with expectation. “Beg like you mean it. Like you’re begging for your life.”

You swallowed hard, cheeks burning with humiliation and want, eyes closing as the heat swirling through you turned into a frantic ache. Your voice broke, ragged and raw, spilling out all the trembling need you’d been holding inside. “Please, Daddy… Please let me come. I’ll be your good girl. I’ll do whatever you want. Please, I need you. Please…”

Natasha just chuckled, clearly not quite ready to relent just yet. Your body continued to tremble violently, every muscle pulled so tight it felt like you might shatter from the strain, every inch of you writhing under the pressure that had been building, aching, begging for release for what felt like hours. 

Your voice broke free again, hoarse and raw, a sob ripped straight from your chest, laced with helpless surrender. “I’m gonna…I can’t, Daddy, I can’t hold it, I’m sorry, I can’t, please—”

It had stopped being a plea altogether. It was more like a confession, you were going to cum whether you were given permission or not; you just desperately hoped that permission would arrive before you lost control.

The air went still, like the world itself was holding its breath. Then she leaned in again, breath hot and steady against your ear, her voice low and terrifyingly gentle. “Okay. Cum for me, good girl.”

The words struck like lightning. It was immediate, devastating; the second her permission registered in your mind, your body detonated. You shattered with a scream that tore straight through your throat, every muscle seizing in violent spasms as the orgasm ripped through you, too intense, too much, more than you’d ever felt or imagined. You couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. Your vision went white, then grey, then black around the edges as the release overwhelmed you completely.

Your eyes rolled back, your mouth open in a silent cry, and for a terrifying, beautiful moment, you felt yourself slipping under, deep and dark, the world narrowing to a pinprick of light before it vanished altogether.

Your limbs were limp and twitching in the aftermath, your face buried in the sheets as tremors rocked you. You were barely conscious, breath stuttering in shallow, uneven gasps. Your skin was flushed and fever-hot, soaked in sweat and tears, but your mind had gone blissfully quiet.

Natasha didn’t speak for a long moment; she just stayed with you, her fingers gentle now, drawing back from your trembling body with care, her presence still heavy and grounding. When her voice came, it was thick with pride, yet soft enough to make your chest ache.

“That’s it, krasivaya devushka (pretty girl),” she murmured, brushing damp hair from your face with slow, reverent fingers. “You did so fucking well.”

You couldn’t respond. You barely had the strength to breathe, let alone form words. Your body twitched again, the aftershocks still pulsing in deep, involuntary waves, and even those were almost too much. You whimpered softly, tears streaking anew from the corners of your eyes, not from pain, but from relief. From the sheer vulnerability of what had just passed between you.

Wanda’s hand found yours, her touch warm and steady, and you clung to it without even realising, your fingers weakly curling into hers as she whispered something soft in a language you didn’t understand, her lips brushing the crown of your head. 

The room around you was silent, save for your ragged breaths. The tension had faded. The storm had passed. Natasha moved first, slow and deliberate, every gesture measured as if the wrong angle might break you. She eased her hands beneath your slack body and gently coaxed you upright, murmuring soft nothings as she guided you with infinite patience into her lap. 

She avoided the welts with careful skill, her fingers splaying wide to support your back as she shifted you until you were curled against her, your thighs folded over hers, your cheek resting against the firm plane of her chest. 

Wanda was already there beside you, moving in tandem with Natasha, like this was something they’d done a hundred times before. Her hand brushed gently along your jaw, the backs of her fingers featherlight against your cheekbone, and her voice was barely more than a breath. “Little One… you’re so quiet,” she whispered. “Can you look at me, hm? Just a little?”

You didn’t. You couldn’t. Your eyes stayed half-lidded, unfocused, your mouth parted slightly as if words might try to come, but nothing did. You were weightless, full of warmth and pressure, and not a single coherent thought. You didn’t even know whose hands were where anymore, only that you were held, and the world outside their bodies didn’t matter.

Natasha shifted behind you, her arms curling around your middle, and she leaned in close, her voice low, coaxing. “You with me?” she murmured against your temple, her breath warm and even. “Need you to give me something, yeah? Nod. Blink. Anything.”

Silence. You blinked once, but it was slow, lazy, so drawn-out it almost didn’t count. Your body was limp in her arms, small twitches still ghosting down your thighs, but there was no tension, no fear. Just exhaustion. Deep, beautiful, bone-heavy exhaustion, the kind that only came when you’d given everything and there was nothing left but this.

Wanda’s hand paused, just briefly, her eyes flicking up to meet Natasha’s. Her tone stayed soft, but there was the barest note of surprise in it, and something warmer beneath that, something almost admiring. “I’ve never seen her this far gone before,” she said gently, brushing your damp hair back from your face with careful fingers. “Not like this.”

That made Natasha pause. You felt it in her breath, the faint hitch against your neck, the subtle stiffening of her muscles where they cradled your back. Her grip didn’t tighten, but her stillness said enough, that flicker of something sharp and anxious just beneath her skin.

“She’s too quiet,” Natasha murmured, and for the first time her voice held a sliver of unease, something she couldn’t quite mask. “She usually… I mean, even when she’s out of it with you, she—”

Wanda cut her off with a look, her voice calm and even, as grounding as the touch she kept smoothing along your jaw. “You know she’s okay,” she said, not a question, but a gentle reminder. “Look at her. She’s breathing slow, she’s not flinching, her body’s soft. She’s not gone. Just… deep.”

Still, Natasha looked down at you, searching for something, anything behind your eyes. “She didn’t even flinch when I moved her. Not even a wince.”

“She trusts you,” Wanda said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s not a problem. That’s a gift.”

Natasha let out a slow, quiet breath, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, holding you more tightly now, tucking your face into the crook of her neck as if the closeness might coax you back into the light a little faster. “She gave me everything,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I didn’t mean to take too much.”

“You didn’t,” Wanda said gently, but with absolute certainty, her voice calm and grounding. “She’s fine, Nat. I promise. You’ve seen me drop just as deep, you know this space, don’t start second-guessing yourself now. I was watching the whole time, making sure you both stayed tethered. No one went too far. It’s alright. Just breathe and be with her, yeah?”

Natasha exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders softening just a fraction, but not all the way. Her arms tightened around you instinctively, protective and quiet, holding you as if her steadiness alone could pull you back to shore. And then your fingers curled in the fabric of her shirt. A barely-there twitch, not even deliberate, but enough. Natasha’s breath caught, and something melted in her expression as she leaned down, pressing a kiss into your hair like a prayer.

“That’s our girl,” she murmured, voice low and rough, barely more than a breath, but full of fierce, aching relief.

You didn’t answer. But your cheek nudged against her collarbone, just a little, a lazy, dazed nuzzle, and Natasha exhaled fully, like she could finally breathe again. 

Wanda leaned forward, tucking herself in against your other side, her hand now holding one of yours, thumb brushing rhythmically along your knuckles. “Let’s let her drift a bit longer,” she whispered. “She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

And so they stayed like that, holding you between them. You didn’t know how much time had passed. It could’ve been minutes, could’ve been an hour, the soft thrum of Wanda’s thumb on your knuckles and the slow rise and fall of Natasha’s chest beneath your cheek made everything blur, timeless and quiet, like the world had narrowed to the exact point where their bodies cradled yours. 

Then, at last, something shifted. It started in your chest, a quiet ache of emotion that bloomed outward like warmth returning to numb skin. You blinked slowly, the world still soft and blurry at the edges. You made a small noise, mostly a whimper, and Natasha’s arms instinctively tightened around you, the motion firm but soothing.

“Hey,” she whispered, and the relief in her voice wasn’t masked. It wasn’t even tried. “There she is. That’s it, Detka (babe)”

You tried to speak, but your throat was too dry. You swallowed hard and tried again, your voice barely more than a rasp, a breath caught on the edge of tears. “I’m sorry…”

Natasha shushed you immediately, her hand smoothing down the back of your head, her other arm tightening at your waist, still careful not to touch the angry red welts across your backside. “You don’t need to talk yet,” she murmured. “You just rest. You’re safe, I promise.”

Wanda leaned in, brushing a kiss just above your brow, her hand never letting go of yours. Her voice was warm and low, like the first glow of a fire in a quiet room. “You came back really slowly, darling. Gave us both a scare, hm?” There was no edge to it, no reprimand. Only concern, soft and absolute. “I’ve never seen you drift that far before.”

A tiny breath escaped your lips, almost a laugh, though too fragile to shape itself. “Didn’t mean to,” you murmured, your voice brittle and fading.

“It’s okay if you’re a bit out of it,” Natasha said quietly, her lips brushing the crown of your head. “Daddy and Mommy have you, baby. You’re so good for us.”

You whimpered, barely a sound, your breath catching in your throat as the weight of it all pressed down. You’d been bad before, you remembered just how far you’d pushed. The guilt still pulsed inside you, raw and unsteady. You wanted to apologise, to fall to your knees and beg for forgiveness, but somehow… they were already offering it.

Being told you were still good, hit you like a balm, cool and sweet and stinging all at once. Your lip trembled, your voice breaking the silence in a small, uncertain whisper. “Still… Little One?” 

Even to your own ears, the question sounded fragile, wavering with that desperate need for reassurance that only they could offer. It wasn’t the first time you had asked that question, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

Natasha’s breath caught faintly, and then she kissed your temple with aching gentleness. “Our Little One. Forever.”

Wanda’s voice joined hers, soothing and rich as she stroked her fingers through your hair. “You’re stuck with us now, malyshka. No escaping.”

You nodded faintly, eyes sliding shut again. The fog still clung to you; you hadn’t fully come back yet, but it didn’t feel frightening now. You were floating just beneath the surface, not lost, just… surrendered. And their voices tethered you. Their hands held you. You didn’t have to move. Didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to earn this.

A small silence followed, warm and deep, filled only by the sound of your breathing and the weight of being kept. Then Wanda stirred with a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I’m just going to get something for her,” she murmured gently. “Some water, maybe a snack.”

Natasha gave a small nod, her cheek still pressed to your hair, as if she couldn’t bear to lift her head. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice raw with gratitude. “Thank you.”

Wanda rose slowly, her fingers brushing over yours one last time before she left, a silent promise not to be long. Then the room was quiet again, just you and Natasha in the hush, her touch steady, grounding as she pulled a blanket over you.

When Wanda returned, it was quiet and swift, a bottle of water in one hand, a small biscuit wrapped in a napkin in the other. She knelt beside the bed, watching your face like she was reading something in the way your lashes fluttered.

Natasha adjusted you gently, raising you just enough to coax. “Alright, Detka (babe),” she whispered into your temple. “Time to try. Just a little something, and then you can rest again.”

You blinked slowly, the world still foggy and distant. But you let her guide you, let her bring the straw to your lips. Your lips parted slowly around the straw, the cool water slipping in like a balm against your dry throat. 

You sipped tentatively, eyes fluttering as the water trickled down. Natasha’s fingers never left you, her thumb brushing along your cheekbone with a softness that made your heart ache and your eyelids flutter heavier.

“That’s it,” Natasha murmured, her voice thick with pride and relief. “Such a good girl, taking care of yourself. I’m so proud of you.” Her words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, steady and unshakable, grounding you further into this moment. “You’re doing so well. You don’t have to rush.”

From beside you, Wanda’s hand slipped to your face, fingers tracing gentle circles over your cheek, cradling your jaw like you were the most precious thing she’d ever held. “Look at you, malyshka (Little One),” she breathed softly, voice low and filled with awe. “Such a perfect girl.”

You blinked again, the fuzziness lingering but softening, your chest rising and falling a little more evenly with each soothing stroke of Wanda’s hand. The biscuit was pressed lightly into your palm, warm from her touch, and with gentle encouragement, your fingers curled weakly around it.

“Try a little bite,” Wanda coaxed, her smile tender and patient. “Just a small one.”

Your jaw worked slowly, the crumbly biscuit breaking apart in your mouth, sweetness blooming faintly against your tongue. Natasha’s voice was a steady hum in your ear, praise threading through every word. “That’s it, just like that.”

You swallowed, the taste grounding you more than you expected. Your eyes drifted closed again briefly, your body sinking deeper into Natasha’s embrace, Wanda’s hand never leaving your face, their presence a constant soft anchor in the swirling haze.

Wanda offered the water again, and you took it without hesitation, the coolness soothing the ache in your throat and the exhaustion in your limbs.

“You’re doing so well,” Natasha whispered, voice soft and full of wonder. 

It took a little while to come back down, the world around you slow to settle. But once your limbs stopped trembling and your head stopped spinning, you turned into Natasha’s arms and curled there without hesitation, your voice quiet but full of truth as you murmured, “Thank you.”

She smiled, her fingers trailing lazy patterns across your back. “For what? The belt, or the orgasms that nearly killed you?”

You gave a tired, breathy laugh, hiding your face in her neck. “For listening. For wanting me.” You paused, then added with a grin. “And… maybe a little bit for the orgasms.”

Wanda chuckled behind you, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. Natasha huffed a laugh of her own, sounding more relaxed than she had all night. “Not too much?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her tone, though the question beneath was genuine.

You shook your head, smiling. “It was a lot,” you admitted softly, “but not too much. Just… I think I might need soft, sometimes, though?”

Natasha tilted her head, pretending to think. “Hmm… soft. I’ll need a manual for that one.”

You grinned. “You’ve got Wanda. She’s an expert.”

Wanda kissed your cheek and hummed, “Lucky for her, I take apprentices.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too, warm and open in a way that made your chest flutter. “Well then,” she murmured, “I guess I’m all in.”

And that, more than anything, made you melt, safe and certain in the arms you’d craved for so long.

Eventually, Natasha and Wanda gently helped you up, guiding you carefully to the bathroom where they cleaned you with tender patience, every touch considerate of the welts on your skin. 

Once you were freshened, they dressed you in a soft, oversized T-shirt that hung loosely, deliberately leaving you without underwear or trousers to avoid anything rubbing or irritating your tender backside. They took extra time to apply more soothing lotion, their fingers slow and careful, lingering on every sensitive spot with quiet affection.

Afterwards, one by one, they each prepared for bed, never once leaving you alone, both silently ensuring you felt safe and held. Before long, the three of you were curled together, you nestled snugly in the middle, wrapped in a warm, protective cocoon of love and care. Your eyes drifted closed, sinking into a peaceful sleep, tired, a little sore, but deeply content and completely fulfilled.

—

Next part

Taglist: @angelicbrats @chansawrelier, @brooklyn-r-dawson (If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)

[earlysunshines]

jealousy looks great on you

hanni pham x fem!reader

synopsis: is she the asshole? hanni—female, 20 years old—pretends to act oblivious to her girlfriend being jealous because she thinks her gf looks soooo good when she’s bothered and protective

warnings: aespa member!reader ; i forgor the order of all of hannis shoots and stuff so pretend its in order ; nothing else??? ; haha kissing making out hahabhahahahjekekkeke ; not proofread, lillll rushed

a/n: am i the asshole for not knowing the order of each hanni gucci sponsor/campaign/event…

everyone and their mom knows that hanni is gorgeous. she's stunning both on the outside and inside, so it isn’t surprising that she’s the global ambassador of gucci.

unfortunately for you, her beloved girlfriend, that means a handful of others get to witness her beauty. you’ve come to terms that she’s not for your eyes only, but it still pains you regardless.

the first time it happened — hanni’s shoots coming out without you knowing beforehand — you were bothered, though not to such an extent.

as you were on the way to your girlfriend’s dorm, you had come across photos on twitter that showed you just what she had been up to. hanni posted phoning updates, and the first thought that echoed in your head was the fact that she would rather send pictures to her fans before you? hell, she never even texted you a selfie or anything.

when you had arrived at her dorm, opening the door with the spare key, you were met with minji making tea in the kitchen. you greeted her hastily, pursing your lips into a smile before crashing in your girlfriend’s room.

you were lounging on hanni’s bed, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly, when you heard the door to her dorm click open less than an hour later. your head snapped up as hanni walked in, fresh from her gucci shoot, her face lighting up when she saw you.

"hey, baby," she said softly, setting her bags down with a smile. "what are you doing here? i thought you had schedules tomorrow."

you grinned, leaning back against the pillows casually. "wanted to surprise you." you said with a playful lilt. "i snuck out of the sm dorms to see you."

hanni’s eyebrows raised, amused. "snuck out? just for me?"

you shrugged, trying to play it off coolly, but there was a certain edge to your tone when you spoke again. "yeah, well... i figured i should spend some time with my girlfriend. since she’s apparently too busy being a gucci ambassador to tell me about her shoot. you never told me you had one." the words came out more snarky than you intended, and hanni looked at you, confused.

"what?" she asked, a soft laugh escaping her. she didn’t seem to catch on to your subtle jealousy, but you kept your expression nonchalant. 

"nevermind." you waved it off, sitting up and pulling her closer by her waist as she stood next to the bed. "just thought it was funny how i found out about your shoot at the same time as everyone else."

"huh?" she blinked at you, clearly still confused but too tired to overthink it. she stepped between your legs, leaning into your touch. "oh, i didn’t even think about that... i’m sorry," she said genuinely, but you just shook your head, your fingers tightening around her waist.

"it’s whatever," it’s half of a lie. a smirk pulls at your lips as you tugged her down onto the bed beside you. "i’m here now, so i guess you’ll just have to make up for lost time."

before hanni could say anything else, you started peppering her neck and jawline with soft kisses, your lips brushing against her skin in a way that made her shiver. her breath hitched, and she tilted her head to give you more access, her confusion from earlier completely forgotten.

"you’re so clingy tonight," she whispered, her voice laced with amusement as she wrapped her arms around you. "...not that i’m complaining."

"clingy? me?" you teased, your hands sliding under the hem of her shirt as you continued kissing her, your lips lingering a little longer on her pulse. "i’m just giving you the attention you deserve. you know, more than your fans could ever give."

hanni let out a soft laugh, her eyes fluttering shut as she melted into your touch. "you’re cute when you’re like this."

"you think so?" you smirked, pulling back just enough to look at her, your fingers tracing slow circles on her waist. you leaned in close, your lips brushing against her ear as you whispered, "i’m just giving you what you want."

hanni’s cheeks flushed, her heart racing as your lips grazed her skin again. she didn’t question your behavior anymore, too caught up in the moment, and truthfully, she loved seeing you like this—playful, affectionate, and just a little bit possessive.

"you’re a tease," she mumbled, but her voice was breathless, and you could feel her hands tightening around you, holding you closer. you grinned, pressing one last kiss to her neck before pulling back with a satisfied smirk.

"maybe," you raise your brows before continuing, "but you like it, don’t you?"

hanni rolled her eyes playfully, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. "yeah, i do."

you held her close, the jealousy still simmering in the back of your mind, but it didn’t really matter anymore. being here with her, pampering her with affection, made it all fade away. and hanni—oblivious to the little hint of jealousy—just thought you were being extra sweet, and that was enough for you.

—

it happens again a month later.

you were sitting at the kitchen island, scrolling through twitter with a frown as you mindlessly picked at your breakfast. the usual conversation between your members filled the dorm, but you were too distracted by your phone to engage. you kept staring at the pictures of hanni from her gucci shoot, looking gorgeous without even trying in every shot. the problem wasn’t that she looked amazing—the problem was that you had found out about it the same way everyone else had. again.

aeri, who noticed your unusually grumpy expression, raised an eyebrow as she sat down across from you. "what’s up with you?" she asks, taking a sip of her juice. "you look like someone just took your switch. did you lose your animal crossing card again?”

you didn’t answer, scrolling with a deeper frown, your breakfast was barely dented. aeri wasn’t having it though, and before you could stop her, she reached across the counter and snatched your phone out of your hand.

"hey!" you protested, but she had already seen the screen.

"ohhhh," she grinned, holding the phone up. "so this is why you’re all moody. your girlfriend is eating." she swiped through the photos, admiring the outfits and the way hanni posed—effortlessly and elegantly.

minjeong and jimin, hearing the commotion, walked over. "what’s going on?" minjeong asks, leaning over aeri’s shoulder to peek at your phone. when she saw the pictures, her eyes widened. “woah. your girlfriends really pretty.”

“i know. stop staring so hard.” you scold, grabbing the phone back. you look at it again and put your cheek on top of your palm. “but i just found out about the shoot. i’m finding out about all these things the same time as her fucking fans.”

jimin chuckles, sitting down next to you. "so, why didn’t she send you these pictures first? shouldn’t the lover get the exclusive preview?"

"right!" you blurted out, your frustration finally spilling over. "i’m her girlfriend, and i had to find out with the rest of twitter. you’re telling me i’m the same priority as a fucking stan account? i love hanni, like so fucking much, but i just… i don’t know, i really wanted to be the first one to see her like this. i wanted the exclusive." you crossed your arms, feeling a bit ridiculous now that you said it out loud.

aeri, minjeong, and jimin exchanged amused glances before bursting into laughter.

"you’re such a loser," minjeong teases, nudging you with her elbow. "i can’t believe you’re pouting over this."

"i’m not pouting," you grumbled through a pout.

jimin patted your back sympathetically, though she was still grinning. "look, i get it — kinda. but you’ve gotta admit, she looks really good. like, really good."

you couldn’t argue with that. your eyes drifted back to your phone. hanni looked incredible, and despite your initial grumpiness, you couldn’t help but stare at the pictures again, 

"yeah…" you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips. "she looks amazing. so stop staring so hard at her.” you add, hiding your phone from your members dramatically.

aeri looked at you with a smirk. "it’s not so bad. you’re still her number one, even if twitter got the pictures first."

“fuck you,” you sigh, poking at your breakfast.

jimin laughs, shaking her head. "just text her later and ask for your own special ‘phoning’ update. i’m sure she’ll send you something.

you sigh, already feeling your mood lift a little as you turn on your phone, gazing at the photos again. "yeah, maybe i will."

your members tease you a little more before they let it go, but you couldn’t help but replay the thought of hanni looking so good, feeling just a little more eager to see her later. even if you didn’t get the first look, she was still yours, and that was enough — in a sense.

—

it was not enough in any sense. your schedule is too busy for you to really think about it though.

this time it was time for an important shoot on your schedule. you stand in front of the mirror, letting the stylist adjust your outfit for the prada shoot. the makeup artists had done an incredible job, and your stylist had put together a look that was nothing short of flawless. feeling confident, you snapped a few pictures of yourself in the mirror, making sure to capture every angle. after reviewing them, you immediately sent them to hanni, grinning as you opened facetime and waited for her to pick up.

when she did, hanni’s face lit up the second she saw you on the screen. "oh my god," she said, eyes wide with admiration as she took in your look. "you look so, holy— i hate you, you know?"

right,” you chuckled, feeling your heart skip a beat at the way she was looking at the screen with such amazement in her eyes. "i figured you’d like the outfit," you said, grinning as you showed her the full look by angling the phone at your attire. "they really went all out with this one."

"i love it," she says, biting her lip as she watched you through the screen. "you’re seriously killing me right now. i don’t know how i’m supposed to function after seeing this. are you insane?”

you felt your cheeks warm at her words, even though you were used to her compliments. "thanks, idiot," you murmur, unable to stop yourself from smiling like a loser. "but you know, you never sent me any pictures from your gucci shoots. i had to find out through twitter the last two times, you know?"

your tone was light, and you tried to keep it casual, but you couldn’t help the small pout that formed on your lips. hanni noticed immediately, and instead of addressing your playful complaint, she laughed softly.

"oh, we’re talking about that, huh?" she teases, her voice playful. "are you trying to guilt-trip me?"

you snickered, then shrugged, acting like it wasn’t a big deal, but you couldn’t hide the teasing smile tugging at your lips. "i’m just saying. i’d like my own special update, you know? i’m your girlfriend, after all."

hanni laughs again, but instead of responding to your comment, she flirted back without missing a beat. "well, you look too good for me to think straight right now, so maybe we’ll talk about it later," she said with a small smirk.

you roll your eyes playfully, but the warmth in your chest didn’t fade. "sure, just flirt your way out of it, as usual.”

"hmm, is it working?" she asks, tilting her head with a playful glint in her eyes.

you pout even more exaggeratedly. "maybe…"

hanni’s soft laugh made you melt, and even though she didn’t give you the exclusive photos you wanted, you couldn’t be mad when she was looking at you like that. she was still admiring you through the screen, biting her lip in a way that made your heart race.

"you’re kind of really hot." she admits absentmindedly.

"yeah?" you asked, feeling a flutter in your chest.

"yeah," she admitted. "like, seriously. the pictures you sent are soooooooo…”

you smirk, feeling a bit of pride swell up inside you. "good. you deserve to suffer after what you did to me with that gucci shoot."

hanni laughs again, shaking her head. "fine, fine. i’ll send you some pictures next time, but for now, just know that i’m maybe a little in love with you. i think i have a crush on you."

you couldn’t help but laugh at that, any lingering pout quickly disappearing. "really?” you joke.

“maybe.” she giggles. “i’ll let you go on and be all hot for the cameras, okay?”

“mhm, i love you.”

“i love you more.” hanni says, to which you respond with a roll of your eyes.

—

again. of course it happens again.

you were casually scrolling through your phone during a break at the dorm, not expecting much until you came across her.

hanni’s newest shoot, the one that had her trending all over social media, literally every platform. your jaw immediately dropped. she was in milan, draped in a top that left her entire back exposed, and the way she carried it—confident, stunning—it was like she owned the entire world in that moment. you froze, eyes glued to the screen, unable to tear your gaze away.

even worse, you really can’t tell at this point, was the photos of her in the car. her hair sat perfectly and made her features stand out, the way she looked at the camera made your lips part slightly, and you couldn’t be more amazed.

minjeong, sitting across from you, noticed your reaction instantly. "what’s going on with you?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. "you look like you’ve just seen a ghost."

you didn’t respond, too busy staring at the photos. your thumb mindlessly swiped through image after image, each one worse than the last because hanni just looked that good. she was a whole flight away from you, looking like that, and you were here, losing your mind over it.

jimin peers over your shoulder, curious. "is this about hanni again?"

you blink, realizing you haven’t said a word. "…maybe."

aeri snickered, leaning in to see what you were looking at. "let me guess—oh, wow." her eyes widened as she took in the photos. "okay, I get it. no wonder you’re freaking out. jesus christ.”

you felt a wave of heat creep up your neck as the rest of aespa started glancing at your phone, throwing teasing comments about how smitten you looked. but all you could focus on was hanni, her back out for the world to see, and you needed her back here — both her and her back, and her in that top, and her, just her —with you, immediately.

you genuinely couldn’t take it anymore. without a second thought, you screenshotted one of the tweets, zooming in on the picture that was making you lose your senses. you opened your messages with hanni, sent the image, and typed out, “we need to have a talk when you’re back.”

it was a simple message, but you knew hanni would understand the underlying meaning — to an extent. the second you hit send, your heart raced, imagining her reaction.

hanni was in milan, probably busy with her schedule, but you pictured her reading your text and furrowing her brows in confusion. an hour later, she replied with a simple, “what the hell??”followed by a flurry of mixes of punctuation, numbers, and signs.

you bit your lip, fighting back a grin. the rest of your members were still laughing at how flustered you were, but you didn’t care. all you knew was that the second hanni got back, you were going to have a very important conversation with her.

(maybe one that started with a kiss.)

—

hanni had gotten back to seoul a day after you sent the message. to be completely honest, she had been thinking about the message since you sent it.

she didn’t even have time to go to her room, immediately unwinding in the living room and grabbing an extra pack of pj’s in her backpack to bring to the bathroom.

she finished and changed into your t-shirt and her old plaid pants. she opened the door to her room, fresh from her shower with her damp hair falling onto her shoulders, she barely had time to react when you suddenly pulled her in, pinning her to the door with a soft but fixed grip.

she gasps, her eyes wide with surprise.

one: hanni didn’t expect to see you so soon. two: wow, you’re really close and she can’t even deny that this isn’t the slightest bit… hot.

“why didn’t you show me those pictures, huh?” your voice was low, but there was a teasing edge in it as you leaned in closer, your face just inches from hers. “why do i have to find out about your shoots at the same time as your fans? i’m your girlfriend, hanni. i should’ve seen it first.”

hanni tilted her head, smiling up at you as she tried to hold back a laugh. “so this is what it’s been all about?” she asks, her voice playful. “i knew you were just jealous.”

“i’m not jealous,” you deny immediately, but your grip on her waist tightens just a little, and you could feel the heat crawling up your neck. the way hanni was looking at you, with that smug, knowing smile, wasn’t helping your case at all.

“oh, come on,” she teases, her voice soft and alluring as she brought a hand up to brush a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “you’ve been acting all weird just because i didn’t send you pictures first?”

you huff, turning your head slightly. “i just think it’s fair that i get a sneak peek. is that so much to ask?” 

hanni grins, clearly entertained by how flustered you were. she leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “you know... you look really good when you’re jealous.”

your demeanor faltered. her words, her tone, the way she was looking at you with those teasing eyes, ones that stared more intensely than in the photos—it was all too much. your lips brushed against her jawline, soft and slow, and you heard her inhale sharply. your hands, now resting on her waist, pulled her even closer, and she practically melted against you.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you mumble between kisses, trailing from her jaw to her neck, your lips lingering longer as you felt her shift in your arms, her breath hitching slightly.

hanni’s laughter was lighter now, softer, as she squirmed just enough to maneuver herself out of your grip and guide you over to her bed. before you knew it, she was in your lap, straddling you, her arms wrapped around your shoulders, and that teasing smile was back on her lips.

“you’re really gonna deny being jealous?” she questions, running her fingers through your hair, her touch sending little shivers down your spine. “you look like, really good when you are.”

you pout, though the effect was probably lost with how warm and flustered you felt under her gaze. “shut up.” you groan.

hanni’s grin only widened.

“see? wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?” she pokes at your nerves, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple, then to the corner of your mouth.

you groan, pulling her closer, your hands firm on her waist as she shifted in your lap. “fine. but just so you know, i’ll be expecting all the teaser images.”

“your job is getting to you.”

“shh.”

hanni laughs, her fingers tracing lightly over your collarbone. “deal. though, i kind of like you like this,” she adds, her voice softening as she looked down at you. “all pouty and clingy. might make you more jealous on purpose again cutie.”

you roll your eyes, but can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “you’re impossible.”

“and yet, here we are,” she whispers, her lips ghosting over yours before pressing against them in a soft, lingering kiss that made your heart race all over again.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 51 (Human Alastor x Married Reader)

CW: Domestic violence, a missing doorknob, nudity, murder talk Prev__ Welcome Post__ AO3__ KoFi Midweek update brought to you via KoFi! Support goes to the costs associated with upcoming original works!

AN: As of today, we're opening KoFi updates, a method of speeding up the update schedule for any given series, once a week! See upcoming post for terms and conditions

“What took you so long?” Laurence’s voice came through the heavy door as Alastor shifted, moving slowly, carefully, trying to be as close to silent as possible. 

The crack between the frame and the door was just large enough that Alastor could see a sliver of the scene unfolding in the hall.

“I-” you hesitated as you looked down the stairs where Alastor knew Laurence was drawing closer, each heavy step seeming to reverberate through the house. 

“You’re flushed,” Laurence accused, closer but still outside of the limited field of view Alastor had to work with. His hand reached into Alastor’s line of sight, gripping your chin. Alastor could see the way each of Laurence’s fingers dug into the sensitive skin. “Why?” 

“I was getting sick,” you stammered out. “I’m sorry.” 

“What happened to the picture?” Laurence shoved you, sending on against the door Alastor hid behind with a thump that rattled it in the frame. Alastor had no choice but to hope that you remained on your feet, safe from the broken glass. 

“I bumped it running into the bathroom,” you answered, looking down at the mess that should have been a wonderful, scandalous memory. Alastor wanted nothing more than to reach through the door and wrap you in his arms, pull you to safety. “It fell. I just- I haven’t had a chance to clean it-” 

A sharp slap cut your words off. Alastor knew what he couldn’t see was Laurence striking you with his hand. By the sound, he figured it was the back of his hand he used on you. 

Slowly, Alastor tucked himself back into his pants as he looked around the small dark room for anything he could use to overpower Laurence and put an end to him. 

The first step was putting his manhood away, secured within the confines of his pants again. He may not have held much value for it or its use, but now that Alastor had you, he was growing rather fond of the desires and sensations it drove forward. With you, it was pleasant and because of that, he wanted to keep himself safe. 

One fraction of an inch at a time, he worked the zipper up the length of its track and buttoned his pants, doing everything he could to produce as little sound as possible. In the hall, Laurence was yelling at you. Alastor would have been just fine to have gone the rest of his life without witnessing firsthand and at such proximity how the man who was responsible for your care went off the handle over what amounted to nothing. Feeding his belt back through the buckle was a likewise slow task, though the sound of Laurence’s voice would likely cover any clicking of metal. 

Alastor didn’t know how good Laurence’s hearing was or if in such a state he would even recognize the sound of a belt fastening from the hall closet. It wasn’t worth risking being found before he had a plan when Laurence already suspected that you had a lover. 

Alastor’s nails dug into his palms as he listened to you plead with your husband for mercy. Blow after blow landed in what sounded to be your abdominal area. Laurence ranted, screaming about how if you were with another man’s child, you wouldn’t be when he was done with you. 

That was part of why Alastor had refused to lie with you in that way. He wouldn’t have his child beaten from your womb. He wouldn’t have Laurence watch his child quicken in your belly, swelling you with life. 

You were hidden from Alastor’s sight, pressed up against the door. Each blow to your body rattled the door in its frame, increasing the urgency running in his veins as he looked, or rather felt around, for anything he could use to remove Laurence from the living world. 

Much to Alastor’s frustration, the closet held little more than linins. There wasn’t anything of substance he would use to beat Laurence’s head in with. There was nothing that would be any good for stabbing or slicing him with. 

Alastor slowly pulled a quilt from the shelf, being mindful to keep his eyes locked on what little he could see in the gap between the door and its frame, unfolding it. It was better than nothing. A plan formed in his mind as he pulled the small pocketknife from his pocket, slowly unfolding it as he draped the blanket over his arm. 

He wished he had brought along with him the larger knife he had used for hunting, but this would have to do. Now he just needed you to not rest against the door. The moment you were clear, he would push open the door and throw the blanket over Laurence. That would make up for the lack of darkness for him to move within. 

It would be only the second time in his life that he killed in the daylight. 

His jaw clenched, aching from the pressure as he watched Laurence’s red face up close as he yelled at you. And then, as if a switch had flipped, and he stepped away from where you lie crumpled against the door. 

Alastor stood, knife clenched in his fist as he waited for you to move from the door. He couldn’t see where your husband was anymore, but he could hear him moving through the house. 

There was a click as Laurence unlocked his office door. The hinges squeaked as he opened it. Alastor waited, going to grab the handle of the closet door to find that there was no knob for the inside. 

Regardless of if he wanted to or not, unless he was going to break the door down, he was stuck. Slowly, he folded his knife back up and dropped it into his pocket. There wasn’t enough space to fold the blanket again. Instead, he shoved it onto the shelf in a heap. 

He felt small, trapped as he slowly lowered himself to the ground. There was no getting out of the closet and ending your suffering until you let him out again. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the sound of your breathing, telling him you were still alive on the other side of the door. He counted the seconds as each breath wheezed out of your lungs, telling himself you were alright as long as you kept breathing well. 

He tried not to think about how he had been in this position before, decades ago. There was a time when he had been little more than a young boy, locked away in the closet as his father rained blows down on his mother. She, like you, had done nothing to deserver the treatment delivered at the hands of the man she’d been married off to. 

Once again, Alastor was helpless in a closet as a woman he loved more than his own life was beaten down by a man who took her for granted, who thought it was right to own another human being. 

He wanted to scream, to cry or to bury his knife in Laurence’s neck, but none of those were options at the moment.

Instead, he sat in his pants, a drying mess of saliva and slick reminding him of how careless he had been. He had intended to take care of you today, to see to it you relaxed in the bath and do the cleaning for you. 

Instead, he let himself be pulled along by his love of indulging your passions into a moment of carelessness. Even as he devoured you earlier in the week, he had kept his wits about him. Rage boiled in his gut at being caught unaware and once again causing your pain. 

Alastor sat with his head resting against the wall, listening to Laurence’s footsteps as he walked down the stairs. Your husband stepped over you on his way out, seemingly not giving a second thought to the state he had left you in. He couldn’t see the burning glare of Alastor’s eyes through the crack in the door. 

Two lovers, separated by a solid wood door, waited, each listening as the front door opened and slammed shut. They waited, together and alone, as the car roared to life and faded into the distance. 

“Cher?” Alastor called softly through the door. He did not know if you were awake or if you’d fallen into unconsciousness. All he knew was that there was no change in your breathing. 

You sniffled, and he breathed a sigh of relief. You were awake and aware. There was scraping as you moved, the door rattling as your body moved off it. Glass shards crunched, and then the door opened slowly. 

“Alastor,” you whimpered, face that had been cold and stoney as you buried the pain under the mask of a good housewife crumbled. 

“Oh, my love.” Alastor reached out for you as he crawled on his hands and knees toward you. He needed to leave. He knew that, but that didn’t stop him from instead wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you into his lap. 

You went easily, curling into his embrace as fresh tears fell. Alastor cooed sweet words into your ears as he ran his hands down your arms. You were shaking, trembling as you clung to him. 

“I am so sorry,” he whispered in your ear. “Forgive me, if you can, for all the pain I’ve brought to you.” 

Leaning up, you kissed his lips, smearing your blood on him as you silenced him before he had a chance to speak more words that would twist in your heart like a knife. He tried to pull back, to speak more, but your lips chased him, not wanting to hear what he had to say. Only when he kissed you back, when he surrendered and gave you what you needed, did you pull back. 

“It would have been something else,” you whispered, clinging to him. “Laurence has always found an excuse to hurt me. It dosen’t matter that he’s right this time.”

“That doesn’t change-” 

Again, you silenced him with a kiss. “It is not your fault. I don’t want your apologies. I want you to hold me, to love me, to keep loving me.”

“You have that,” Alastor said, brushing hair back from your face with a soft thumb, smearing the wet trails of still falling tears across your cheeks. “But,”

“No,” you kissed him again, “No buts. Thank you for teaching me what it means to be loved, what it means to love.”

“You’re bleeding again,” Alastor said, hand running down your jaw so that his thumb could brush the blood from your lip. “And it’s because we’re waiting to start that he was healthy enough to do this to you. We need to start.” 

“I know,” you whispered, “But can we have a few more days? The rest of the week?” 

“It’s not safe,” Alastor whispered, holding you tighter to him. “It’s not safe for me to keep coming here while he’s alive.” 

“Please?” Tears ran down your cheeks faster than he could wipe them away. “I can’t- I can’t have this be the last time until-” Your breath caught, making your words tumble out of your mouth in short bursts. “Just a little more?”

Panic gripped your heart. It ran with it in circles through your mind, thrashing it against anything it found. It hurt. Your heart hurt. 

“Ma cherie?” Alastor ran his hands over you, as if he could caress away the panic in your heart and mind. 

“I just- I need a little more time.” You looked up at him, heart breaking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just-” 

Alastor leaned in, slanting his lips over yours, forcing you rambling into silence again. It pained him to know that you were hurting, but he could afford to give you what you needed. Laurence needed to die. 

As he pulled back, Alastor slowly opened his eyes, finding himself pulled into your watery eyes. Shoulders sagged as he let out a sigh, leaning in and kissing you one more time. 

“Alright, Alright, My Darling, please calm down. I’d do anything for you. If you need time, we’ll give you time. Just a few more days, though. That’s all we can afford.” Alastor promised, “We can give it a few more days together.” 

“Do you swear?” You clung to him, holding yourself as close to him as you could. 

“I swear,” Alastor ran his hands up your arms, letting his fingertips graze over the red that was going to quickly bloom into bruises on your arm. “We can’t put this off forever, though. You understand that, don’t you? The longer we put it off, the longer until we can be properly together.” 

“Thank you,” Tears kept spilling down your face. 

“I can’t stand what he does to you,” Alastor whispered, “How he hurts you. I would do anything to have you free of him as soon as possible.” 

“I know.” You leaned into his touch, curling into him. “I’m so sorry.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Alastor said, hooking his arm under your legs. “But please, my love, let me take care of you now?” 

“What do you-” you squeaked as he stood easily, carefully cradling your aching body in his arms, “mean?” 

Alastor hummed instead of answering as he carried you to the bathroom. After sparing the toilet a glance, he perched you on the counter instead. You deserved somewhere better to sit, but he would be happy to make do. 

You watched, pain and stiffness settling into your body as adrenaline faded. The pain was always worse after things calmed down. Leaning against the mirror, you knew you’d leave smudges that would have to be cleaned off, but you couldn’t keep yourself upright. 

After you had time to rest, you would fix it. You just needed to rest. 

You hadn’t realized you dozed off listening to the sound of water running. It hadn’t occurred to you he was filling the tub. The sound of Alastor rummaging through cabinets was lost to you, floating away on a sea of pain. You wanted to ask him to get you some of Laurence’s tincture, but at the same time you didn’t want to spend your time with Alastor in a fog. 

“Cher?” Alastor ran his knuckles down the side of your face, pulling you from your doze. “You there?” 

“I am,” you mumbled. 

“I’m going to get you out of these clothes, is that alright?” Alastor asked when you blinked your big tired eyes at him. 

“Okay,” you whispered, “I trust you.” 

He reached behind your back, unbuttoning each button that ran along your spine. The dress grew slacker around your torso as he went. Each breath you took was painful. Your eyes stung with tears, but you couldn’t stop watching him. 

The care he had given you, what felt like a lifetime ago when you had only just begun down this road to hell, had been so tender and sweet, soothing aches and pains that had been days old. Now he offered the same care to injuries that he had watched happen. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as Alastor’s breath washed over your shoulder. He was nearly embracing you as he worked. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Alastor whispered, placing a soft kiss on your now exposed shoulder. “It’s not your fault you were paired off to a vile man.” 

“I’m sorry you had to see.” 

Alastor chuckled darkly. Oh, if you only knew the things he had seen. The torture he had watched Laurence put upon you. The only difference is he was close enough this time to do something about it. If that door had a knob, if he could have left that little room, Laurence would be dead right now. 

You had protected him far more than you know, shoving him into that closet. You had protected him from making a mess that would be oh so difficult to clean up. Without knowing it, you had protected yourself too, from learning the horrific side of the man you loved. 

“Can you stand?” Alastor asked as he softly pushed the sleeves of your dress down your arms. 

Soft cotton ghosted over your skin, slowly gathering at your waist as Alastor lifted your arm out of each sleeve. You should have felt shamed, sitting on the counter in your bathroom, chest only covered by your bra. It felt like nothing would raise the shame in you. 

“Yes,” you whisper as Alastor reached behind you, skillful hand making easy work out of unclasping the band that hugged your ribs. 

He whisked the bra from you, tossing it easily to the ground. There was nothing sexual in the way he looked at you, eyes running over exposed skin, taking in the bruises and scrapes, blood oozing from where the force of Laurence’s shoe hitting your soft flesh ripped the skin open. 

There was nothing more Alastor wanted to do than place soft kisses on every bloom of red. Bruises would soon cover your skin in a map of terror. The sooner he got you into the bath and soaking, the more you would head off the pain and stiffness. 

“Here,” Alastor warped your arms around his shoulders as he pulled you from the counter. 

There was no where for him to grip you that wouldn’t cause you pain, but he did his best, planting his large palm on your upper back, between your shoulder blades. His other hand wrapped around your waist, gripping the bone of your hip as he used his body to support yours. 

Your breasts were pressed into him as you slipped from the counter, feet dangling. The dress slipped down your legs in a whoosh of fabric, leaving you pressed against Alastor in nothing but your stockings, shoes and panties. 

“Are you alright?” He asked again. 

You nodded as his hand slipped under the hem of your panties. working them down until they joined the dress on the ground. Once that was done, he set you back on the counter. 

“I wish I was doing this under different circumstances,” Alastor admitted, teasing as he went to a knee and pulled your shoes from your feet with a sly smirk on his face. He hoped the teasing would take your mind off the pain, even just a bit. 

It wasn’t your nakedness that made you blush, but the way he looked up at you. It was like he was doing whatever he could to take your mind away from the aches and pains, from your husband and put it back on him and the pleasure he could give you. 

It was working. Long strong fingers rolled your stockings down your legs, removing the last stitch of clothing from you, leaving you once again naked with the man you loved still very much clothed. 

“Alastor?” 

“Don’t worry,” he whispered as he stood again, taking you back into his arms. “You’re going to rest and I’ll do what cleaning you’ve still got to do.” 

“No,” you protested as he carried you toward the tub. “I-”

“You can and you will,” Alastor said firmly. “I found your bath salts while you dozed. The water is nice and hot for you.” You sighed as he lowered you into the water, not seeming to care that water soaked into his sleeves. “The salts will sting a bit, but it’ll help with the bruising.” 

“Okay,” you surrendered. You didn’t have the strength to fight with him. You didn’t have the strength to push back. All you could do was let him care for you, just as he asked, and hope that Laurence would be gone for a few hours. 

“As soon as I get things done, I’ll come back and read to you.” Alastor placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “I love you.”

The softness in his voice melted your heart as the warm water seemed to melt your muscles. It was like he was marveled at the fact that he loved you, like it was the world’s greatest secret. He spoke his love as if it was one of the great hidden truths of the universe, meant for only you and him to know.

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

Next?

[yezznn]

Spending his break together — a Soobin drabble<3

pairings: Soobin x gn!reader

genre: fluff, comfort.

warnings: none! But pls let txt rest (I’m talking to you, HYBE employee reading fanfics for fan service purposes)

check out my masterlist | remember this is fictional!

You could see it in his eyes during video calls—the toll of constant comebacks and rehearsals. His dedication was unwavering, but his health was starting to suffer. His fans were literally begging on every social media for the company to give his group a break, but Soobin still came on camera with his beautiful dimpled smile and tried to reassure everyone that they were just fine. It didn’t take long to become more evident, though, to the point it was starting to worry you, too. Being an idol’s partner wasn’t fun all the time, you’d spent more time without him than with him, and you feared that asking him to take it easy would come out as selfishness.

But when his company finally granted him a long-term break, it was like a breath of fresh air. You received his call while at work, and the relief in his voice was palpable. "Guess who's coming home for Christmas?" he said, and your heart leaped with joy.

The moment you saw him at the airport, a mix of emotions washed over you. He looked tired but happy, and the tight hug you share says more than words ever could. "I've missed you so much," he whispered into your hair, and even with his enormous height he looked like a vulnerable child, just glad to be back.

With Soobin home, your days are filled with cozy nights in. You’d cook his favorite meals, catching up on all the moments you missed. He helps you decorate the Christmas tree, laughing as he tries to untangle the fairy lights. You make it a point to take care of him, ensuring he gets plenty of rest. You have lazy mornings with breakfast in bed, and some late night walks to play in the snow— even when the cold becomes unbearable.

Knowing how much Soobin values quality time, you plan a day of relaxation. You both decide to stay in the day of his birthday, lounging in comfortable clothes and catching up on all the shows and movies he's missed during his busy schedule.

Throughout the day, you surprise him with little gifts. A cozy sweater, a book he's been wanting to read, and a new pair of headphones. Each gift is wrapped with love, and his eyes light up with every unwrapping. "You always know exactly what I need," he says, giving you a warm hug. In the afternoon, you suggest baking a cake together. Soobin's laughter fills the kitchen as you both fumble with the ingredients, making a mess but enjoying every moment.

As the day turned into night, you led Soobin to a surprise party you'd secretly arranged with his friends and family. The moment he steps into the backyard, he's greeted with a chorus of "Happy Birthday!" And you could swear you’ve never seen him happier before. Back at home, as you both got ready for bed, Soobin wrapped his arms around you and murmured, "This has been the best birthday ever. Thank you for everything."

As the year comes to an end, you spend New Year's Eve together, reflecting on the past year and all you've been through. At midnight, he pulls you close, kissing you softly and promising that the coming year will be even better.

This time together strengthens your bond like never before. Soobin appreciates your support, and you cherish every moment spent with him. As his break comes to an end, you both know that no matter how busy life gets, your love is the constant that keeps you both going.

a/n: in honor of Soobin’s update 💗 I miss him so so so much but I’m so happy to know he’s resting and sharing with his family. I’m just hoping they’ll get the rest they deserve and come back healthier and more energized! This was really rushed so I’m sorry if it’s kind of bad, just felt like writing a something for Soob.

[kryptznnn]

♡/♛- Patience III

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✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡

➸ INTERESTS; -pro-hero!katsuki bakugo (27) x f!quirk-less reader (23)

➸ BACKGROUND; -During pro-hero 'Dynamite's term within the top 3 heroes of the country, it was made aware by his agency that he needed assistant around. He hadn't appreciated the gesture really, as he hates being followed let alone babysitting, but he wasn't ready for you to enter his life.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc.6.1k, sexual tension, arguing, frustration, mentions of alcohol, drinking, drunk kissing, drunk sex, under the influence mention, partying, teasing, obsession and possesive mention, slight infidelity, mentions of cheating, masturbation, kissing, fluff, smut, etc.

➸a.i; - 🌸my main navigation, so sorry it's been like MONTHS since my last update on this story im so embarrassed. I just realized my last post to this was around christmas? bye its summer break, im working on the aizawa fic as well and posted last night. I've also made an AO3 account this week, so I'll be active on both accounts and take requests on either. thank you! (also not proof read)

✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡

[Patience II , Patience I]

“I don’t need saving, I had it handled.” You groaned, busting open the doors to your main shared office with Katsuki before walking over to your space and placing your things down.

“A thank you’d suffice. Why do you have to be all upset over it, press was eating you alive.” He responded, beginning to remove his gauntlets before closing the doors and locking them. Your jaw tightened at his words before you turned to him.

“Thank you Dynamite. My hero.” You said through gritted teeth before rolling your eyes and going back to unpacking your belongings. You heard him scoff from behind you.

“You’re bein annoyin’. Can you stop doin that and stop treatin me like it’s all my fault?” He said in an agitated tone, tossing his gauntlets onto his desk as they cluttered together with his other items loudly, making you jump a bit. “Yea the press got too into your relationship with your stupid little boyfriend, so-“

“Respectfully sir. Whatever I do with my time and who I do it with when I leave this damn building is none of your concern. Nor is it any of your business who I bring into my apartment or my bed for the night. The press is shameful for causing a stir, but you’re even more immature and selfish for making it worse.” You spat, now turning around to face him as you pointed.

This entire situation was insufferable especially so early in the morning. Even when you both expected the situation to die down months ago after he came towards you with the news of your business nearly being outed it still managed to follow you and bite you back in the ass.

Now the pictures of you and your friend had flooded the streets, being caught at a restaurant and an apartment complex similar to yours, but it was actually his. The two of you hadn’t been officially together but you weren’t open to anyone else either, still working through the labels.

Now, this morning the press had been anchoring down on your future and your plans and if you new ‘relationship’ would pry into your work. As shoving others aside and shutting down reporters Katsuki had the nerve to repeat the question back to you, asking how serious the two of you were.

Now here you were, bickering back at one another, arguing like high schoolers. Yes you owed him the truth and clarity as he was now your superior, but after over a year of being with one another almost everyday you’d think things wouldn’t have to be so hostile.

After of what felt like hours, which were only minutes of frustration and build up lashing out at one another, you sat at your desk in silence. Your back faced to the outside world and Katsuki as you took a deep breath attempting to focus on your computer work for the day.

You started with clearing calendars and schedules, doing whatever didn’t require you to speak to Katsuki as of right now. You could hear some noises and clinking from behind you but you only ignored it, putting in one earbud as you worked.

Hours passed as you neared the end of your shift and work online. Whatever you had to confirm with him verbally or in person you made sure to write it down to ask another time if you weren’t able to email him a link of things. Police reports, hero reports and even council meetings with the agency or board.

Your brows furrowed as you looked at the time on your laptop, reading a soft glow of 8:12pm. You only exhaled softly before resting your chin in your hand before scrolling some more on tomorrow’s schedule.

The thick tension in the room was undeniably intoxicating enough to make you want to scream. Things hadn’t felt fair today and for the first time in what seemed to be a lifetime you had your first genuine fight with Katsuki.

So much could’ve been on the line at the moment, your reputation, your paycheck, your respect and even your job. You felt something twist at your gut as you sat in silence, biting at your bottom lip.

Usually when something upsets you, you’d run it by him and he’d just say alright or blow it off to not raise any issues. Now this time was different, because you had blown up at him and refused to take either of those actions as an answer, and here you were.

Even your relationship with Katsuki was on the line as of now, at least that’s what you were convinced. You had gotten so close with the man and he became everything you hadn’t expected, you were able to make him smile and even laugh, each time blooming a warmth within you that you hadn’t understood.

It certainly wasn’t one you had with your friend Ren, if you could even call him a friend. The things you’ve done or said to one another certainly weren’t friendly actions. Maybe you were at fault for the first half, taking out your frustrations and anger from unhappiness on everyone but the actual reason.

You felt your eyes begin to sting for a moment before swallowing. Hoping to flush whatever nerves and heat that rose to your face at the moment. Work might be one of the worst places to cry, and it certainly wasn’t something you’d begin to do today.

In one fellow swoop you clicked your laptop to sleep and closed it, standing up from your seat and pushing in your chair. Slowly you gathered your belongings, your mind racing as to think of what to say, or how to start it.

Soon you gathered all of your things on your side and got a hold of your coat, holding it in your hands as you made your way over to Katsuki, who was seated at his desk in different clothing on his two screened desktop.

“I wanted to apologize for today sir, it was never my intention to cause such a large issue or ruckus between us.” You said apologetically, bowing as you did so, a small frown falling upon your lips.

He only looked up at you, not responding. No reaction was plastered on his face, not one of surprise or shock, maybe even anger or sadness, nothing. He stared at you as if looking at a wall, clicking his tongue before moving off to the empty side of his desk before gesturing you to sit down.

“Do you drink?” He asked you, already grabbing two glasses and placing them down on the table as you watched him. You raised a brow at the question before answering truthfully, making him walk over to the large fridge/freezer from behind him as he opened it to reveal neat whiskey.

He sat down, pouring an ample amount of whiskey into each cup, pouring more into his before placing the cap on the bottle. He could feel your eyes on his, feeling the confusion in your gaze, but he hadn’t faltered any of his movement. He only placed the bottle to the side and slid your cup over to you before speaking.

“You have nothin to apologize for. I was wrong for buggin you with it anyways, you were stressed enough.” He started, picking up his chilled glass and taking two gulps before starting again. “Whatever you do, or whoever you do is none of my business.” He finished, taking another swig of his drink before placing his cup down, raising a brow as he watched you.

You sat there with your cup, resting in your hands but untouched. You only looked into it with an even wider frown now, brows furrowing slightly as you took in his words, eyes flicking over to him and back to the cup.

“Is that your way of an apology?” You asked, earning a soft chuckle from him, if you hadn’t been so focused on him you would’ve missed it for sure. “I was sure you’d hate me” you ended, before taking a large mouthful of your drink, nearly finishing it.

“I could never hate you” was all he said as he watched you, before finishing his own short glass. He only turned to open the bottle of whiskey again before pouring himself more and pushing the bottle closer over your now empty cup, filling it to the top as he did for his own.

His words echoed in your head, you smiled softly. Never was a strong word to use, especially given the circumstances of this morning. You only looked down into your glass again, feeling the back of your neck and ears heat up intensely as your stomach felt light.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’ve grown very fond of me.” You said in a joking manner, earning a hum in response from Katsuki. “You might even like me sir.” You said on edge, boring your eyes into his face to rile a reaction out of him, he only took a mouthful of whiskey before parting his lips to answer.

“Take it however you want to” he responded, watching as you enjoyed yourself as you drank. The warm in your chest from the alcohol felt so relaxing once it settled, immediately feeling the effects seep into your head and spread all over your body.

You placed your coat in your lap now, making yourself more comfortable as you let your down from the ponytail it was in. You took a sigh of relief as you did so, immediately feeling better.

Katsuki watched you, his eyes training over your face and body like a predator watching its prey before making its move. He was thankful for having alcohol here, hoping it would hide whatever blush that would appear if things came to worse.

He’d rather flush out the feeling of anxiety and jealousy in his chest with the warmth of the alcohol, wanting to forget all of this morning. He had expected you two were close, closer than he anticipated, than he hoped for. His slight subtle touches and sayings never went by you, and yet you ended up with another man.

When he found out that this morning it dug into his skin harsher than anything he had felt for years. Like the feeling when Izuku had grown a quirk at random, or when he was beaten over and over again in competition of his other classmates and superiors in challenges, exams, and even missions.

Because now he was in competition all over again, and the challenge was you, to grasp at your attention and become a priority of yours. Maybe if he had kissed you back all of those months ago before walking you to your car, things would be different.

As strong as Katsuki was, as powerful as he was and as wealthy as he was, he wasn’t anything short of a coward. All he could do was sit and watch you slip away from his fingertips no matter how hard he tried to grasp at you.

It wasn’t fair, none of this was fair to him. Whoever you were with now surely didn’t deserve you, they surely didn’t make you as happy as he could. Like how he’d watch you grin from ear to ear when you’d try new food you’d enjoy, or when someone makes a mistake you’d point out in meetings with the agency only to be rewarded of your sharp eye afterwards.

It felt like now things had started to move backwards. The time and energy that you’d built off of one another was now being flushed down a toilet right before his eyes. He wasn’t sure what idea had hurt him more, you being out of touch with him to be with another man, or the fact you just simply wanted nothing to do with him in the first place.

He only frowned at the thought before turning his gaze elsewhere, the bittersweet taste of the whiskey now seeming to get to him. He only pushed the bottle further aside before getting up and walking towards the opposite side of his desk, grabbing his phone.

“I can call you a ride to talk you home.” Was all he said, listening as you hummed to him in agreement. His eyes flickered over to your tipsy eyes, you grinned widely at him, your teeth showing. He only looked back over to his phone and shut his eyes tightly, removing the mental image he placed of you in his head.

Maybe drinking with you alone was a horrible idea. He had only wanted to rid of the bad tension of this morning, but he seemed to have made things worse. Your hooded eyes and cheeky grin, hair lowered down to the sides of your face and your glossy lips being less flush as your makeup stained the glass.

He only made his way over to you, one hand holding his phone while the other held his glass, raising a brow at you as you sat up straight. “Do you want me to call them now?” He asked, earning a small shake of the head from you, before slowing your movements and smiling again.

You stood up now, leaning over the desk to reach for the half filled bottle of whiskey before Katsuki reached over stopping your hand, all after putting his phone in his pocket. You stood up straight to look at him, rolling your eyes before taking his glass from his hands and downing the rest, maintaining eye contact with him.

He only swallowed before looking off to the side, taking the glass from your hands and placing it down onto the desk. You only looked at him, moving your head slightly to the side to lock eyes with him again.

“You should go home.”

“I want to stay here longer, I just got com-“

“Your shift ended a while ago, I’ll call a car.” He cut you off, reaching into his pocket again grabbing his phone. You stopped him before he was able to pull it out.

“Please… Katsuki.” You pleaded, brushing your hand away from his wrist as you placed it on his chest, his face hovering over yours. That same scent of his familiar, sweet like nectar mixed with cologne and it drove you mad.

You asked yourself if his lashes had always been so long, and brown as well, not blonde like the rest of his hair or eyebrows. Or how he had the smallest freckles this close to his face, you couldn’t see them before from far away even with your glasses on.

You let your fingertips dance across Katsuki’s face for a while, and surprisingly he let you. Not moving or complaining as you did so, making you smile even harder, feeling your cheeks start to strain.

“You’re very pretty for a boy.” You cooed, now tracing out his freckles of his face before kissing the side of his cheek softly, now on your tip toes before pulling back. You only felt both of his strong hands rest on each side of your waist before pulling your body closer to his.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret, you have to go home Y/n.” He stated, holding you in place and lowering his head. You only lifted his face again as you reached on your tip toes, now kissing the bridge of his nose, gasping as his fingers now dug into your skin, lifting you up onto the desk to sit beside the empty glasses.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not”

“Prove it.” He gasped, his face flushed as his hands never left your side, watching you as you laughed. He watched the way your throat bobbed and you tossed your head back, your hand coming towards your mouth as if to hide it.

“My name is Y/N L/N, today is Thursday and we’re in year 20XX. I can walk in a straight line too.” You said, counting off your fingers as you named every obvious detail as you looked at the calendar on the wall from afar.

“Don’t do this to me” he said in a whisper, barely loud enough for you to catch onto, but you did. You only raised a brow at him as he wore a frown on his face, letting go of you suddenly before getting his phone and sending out a message, his phone dinging within seconds.

He only grabbed your belongings without warning, taking your glasses and accessories and placing them in your bag. Lifting them off your and his desk before making his way back over to you, grabbing your coat as you stood up off his desk.

He grabbed your hand, pausing for a while as you intertwined your fingers with one another as you made your way to the elevator. He pressed the down button, waiting for it to open silently. He didn’t dare turn around to look at you, his pulse sky rocketing and mind racing in confusion.

Soon the elevator arrived and he only waltzed in with you, your hand soon slipping from his grasp as you stood inside, watching him with a satisfied hum. The tension inside seemed to buzz louder than the dying alcohol in your system had, making you more flustered than you possibly already were.

You weren’t sure how or what lead to the moment, although you were sure you made the first move, but as of right now he had you pressed against the wall of the elevator, just underneath the large camera serving as a blind spot as he kissed your lips roughly.

His tongue tasting the same as the whiskey you’d had with him upstairs earlier as your bag was dropped to the elevator floor. You moaned into his mouth as both of your hands were wrapped around the back of his neck, as his hands seemed to maneuver every way over your body.

Starting from cupping your face to hugging at your hips and waist, crawling down to squeeze at your ass and even hold you up by your thighs as you straddled him. The short, but painfully sinful moment being cut as the elevator dinged, making him practically jump off of you.

He gasped, attempting to slow his breathing as you did the same, your fingers ghosting over your lips as you did so. He was quick to pickup your bag as you fixed your ruffled skirt and wrinkled blouse. As you stood towards the entrance of the elevator as the doors opened Katsuki stopped you, fixing your hair in the way it had looked before it all started before letting you step out first.

The walk through the lobby and out into the lot was absolutely silent, you only snuck glances at one another in secrecy. From what you’d seen on Katsuki he seemed overjoyed, a large smile, genuine at that placed over his face as he walked.

As you made it outside towards his driver he held the door open for you, handing you your bag as you sat. You only nodded and thanked him as he closed the door, your window rolled down.

“Thank you… for today. I’ll let you know once I make it home.” You said cheerfully, he only nodded, his hands resting in his pockets before taking a step back, nodding his head to the driver as a signal for you to go.

✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡

Katsuki Bakugo isn’t in love, and he certainly isn’t in love with you. It would be the only way to explain his crazy attitude and actions recently, but that couldn’t be the case.

He understood love, he had loving and caring people in his life who showed it to him, but none of those people he loved had made him to thibns like these.

He was unable to sleep, eat, bathe without fully engulfing in memories of you. Dreaming of you at night, or even imagining you eating dinner with him in his large house alone.

There have even been times you’ve been in the shower with him, your head tilted back a bit for the water to drip down your body, all for him to watch you, or masturbate as he did so. He’d watch as his imagination of you would roll your nipples underneath your pinching fingers as you teased and played with yourself, moaning his name over and over.

You’d always keep eye contact with him as you did so, and somehow always cumming at the same time. Then after things ended you’d disappear from his shower, from his thoughts, until night would come.

He was sure he was wasting his twenties away, that this was some sort of illness. He had went through all stages of ‘love’ he had deemed impossible and entirely unnecessary.

There was the stage of affection or crushing, that was how it had all started off. Catching glimpses of you longer than he should have, hanging with you longer than usual and listening to your small talk, making mental notes of what you liked.

He was sure that stage ended after the interaction with his parents for the first time, and even after mentioning your name on accident to his friends. He hadn’t seen you as anything then, just sure it was the work atmosphere and liking to let loose with you from time to time.

That’s not what coworkers or employees do, that’s what friends do. Yes, the two of you became a baseline of friends outside of work from that small time period and he was quite fond of it, but it still hadn’t entirely described all he felt.

Like the small chances of jealousy, especially more than usual recently, and lust. The lust was intoxicating beyond a point he could stand. He was honestly so surprised with himself he hadn’t just fucked you rough to have his hips snap into your pelvis repeatedly on his desk after your lips ghosted over his face over and over. You were such a tease and he hated it for himself, he hated more that you hadn’t even seemed to remember anything else you did the next day.

Don’t get him started on the concept of obsession either, seeing things in public or on social media pages and thinking if you’d like it. Than forcing a schedule that revolved around you in it daily, even if you weren’t working that day he had to see you. It wasn’t healthy in the slightest but in all honestly who was Katsuki to give a single fuck about anything he was obligated to not do.

Like how he’d pry and as more about you and your “mystery” man you still had yet to reveal his name and background to him for. Or how he’d have your log in information and password for your laptop and check on things every now and then, emails and webpage history. Taking note of what you’d do and what you had set up for yourself outside of work hours and away from the agency behind his back, smiling to himself when there was hardly anything there.

He never saw himself as those weirdos he’d tease from crime television, or stalkers he’d heard stories of. He was an admirable man, at least he tried to be, being less of a wreck and head over hells in anger issues as he grew older.

He might have not been calm as much as he’d like to be but he had managed the collected half. Now since your intimate moment in his office after having a glass or three in his office he was sure keeping his distance from you would be best.

Maybe you were lying, for your own sake and dignity about not remembering. Shame could be a reason, or fear, fear of how your relationship would continue if you had acted on those feelings before.

And it hadn’t helped that he let it happen, his pride weak and grip even weaker. He was in a mental battle with himself, telling you to leave and stop but grabbing you and pulling you closer to him. Allowing your lips to rest upon his face and your hands rest on his chest, as you spoke of your familiar boyfriend in the morning.

Katsuki wondered if he should’ve felt bad for the man. The press and public getting ahold of his relationship with you and yet you were in his office, pressing soft kisses and giggles onto his face.

But as you mentioned you didn’t remember, so there was no reason to think or act on anything. If he could go back and do things differently he would, but he’s not sure he’d be able to have the balls to do it.

He wondered for a while how your relationship was, whether you were enjoying yourself and happy with the way things worked out. A part of him agreed that couldn’t have been the case since you seemed so ready for him to take you, and even wondered if you two were truly official.

Maybe if he knew the answer to those questions the guilt that gnawed on his heart that night would have no reason to even be there. He was entirely sure he would be able to satisfy whatever need or desire your body craved, or whatever your flaunted boyfriend couldn’t provide.

No matter the reason or cause, Katsuki was sure he wasn’t one of the worst men on the planet, and certainly not the most jealous, which eased his mind. Some men in his situation would’ve either killed the woman they’re infatuated with or kill the 3rd involving party, leaving a gruesome look and record.

He was very far beyond that point and he knew he had nothing to worry about. Except for tonight of all nights that is, being out with his friends at a large bar, to which they practically begged him to invite you.

You had made your familiarities with all of them before, during Katsuki’s birthday, and yours had passed a while back to have a nice dinner with everyone. So seeing them all again and sharing laughs and drinks were evident, especially when Mina gasped at your forwardness.

“I mean, it’s like he hates me or something! Going around and hiding for months and he still has yet to call me his girlfriend! Technically we aren’t dating so I can do whatever the fuck I want!” You shouted, throwing your arms up in frustration as the others laughed, Katsuki stayed quiet, eyeing you.

He had spoke less and less throughout the night, but this had immediately caught his attention. He turned his head to face you, sitting two seats down across from him as you laughed along with Mina, taking another shot before speaking.

"I'd never date a guy like him anyways, it's just something to pass the time, he gets it." Was all you said before earning a couple laughs and 'oh's' from others, and a brow raise from Katsuki.

"Girl you're speaking like you've got another guy on your mind." Mina gasped, you only looked off to the side with a smirk, not bothering to respond. She only squealed in response as you finished your drink, humming softly.

She went on and on with the others, inquiring to know who it was that had you so captivated to the fact you were too embarrassed to share. You only ignored it, waving your arms profusely as you watched your empty cup. You looked over quickly to catch Katsuki's glaze in yours before looking back over to the others, making sure it wasn't detected.

As the night continued on, more and more empty glasses and bottles littered your large, shared table, and eventually, you bid everyone your farewells before standing up. As you turned to leave you bumped into Katsuki's chest accidentally before pausing and looking back, your apology slurring.

He only turned with you, his hand resting on your lower back as he escorted you to the car, he was speaking to you, but you only hummed in response. His words sounded too rapid for you to understand, or maybe it was just the alcohol. You only entered the car, his hands never leaving your body as you entered, you only mumbled as you put your seatbelt on.

He sat beside you, a seat separating the two of you as he leaned forward to talk to the driver. You only kept your eyes trailed on his figure, dressed in casual attire. You never took him as a man to wear jeans so often, he seemed more of a dress pants kind of guy, but it didn't seem to matter too much.

It reminded you of a photoshoot he had scheduled for an upcoming modeling agency that asked him to wear a full denim outfit. Denim jeans and a jean jacket, shirtless as the hem of his underwear hung at his waistline, poking out of his pants. Those photos are still something engraved in your mind, you bit your bottom lip to stifle a giggle that was soon to slip out.

He only sat back as he heard you, turning to face you as you smiled widely, batting your lashes at him. He looked out your window for a minute, watching as the middle window separating the backseat and the driver rolled up. You lifted your fingers up, tracing the corners of his face and cheeks, brushing his hair away from his sides.

He leaned down in front of you, faces only centimeters away from one another. You made the first move, leaning in closer to him as your lips brushed against one another, testing the waters with a large grin. Before you could even pull away he leaned down and kissed you eagerly, his hands gripping at your face and throat, angling your face upwards at him.

He hesitated a little before licking at your lips before you invited him into your mouth without a second thought. If it wasn't for the fogginess of your mind and the butterflies in your stomach gnawing at your focus you could've sworn, he was smiling into the kiss as he did so.

In the small moment of shared gasps and moans throughout your make-out with Katsuki, the vehicle comes to a short stop. You're the first to pull away, looking out your window to see your apartment complex. You gasp into a smile, immediately removing your seatbelt before turning to Katsuki and opening your door, grabbing his hand in a way to pull him out.

He's surprised, but obliges, too drunk to truly care now that you've arrived back at your place without harm. He soon comes out of the car with you and you give the driver a quick thank you and wave before dragging Katsuki along with you through your front door after unlocking it with your keycode combination.

He's drunk now, but he wishes he would somehow be able to remember the code in case of emergency in the future. You only kicked your shoes off and began to attack him with kisses, not making it past the entrance of your home.

He was quick to respond, slamming the door shut behind him as he grabbed you, lifting you up onto his waist as you wrapped your legs around him. Moans and whines were thrown around in the air as he tossed you onto the nearest piece of furniture he could find, your couch.

Kisses turned into bites, grasping turned into grabbing, removing clothing and brushing hair aside until the two of you were completely nude on the couch. You moaned into Katsuki as he continued, the night advancing as you began to sober up, him doing the same.

“Katsuki” you whined, placing your hands on his torso attempting to push him with the little to no strength you had as he thrusted into you with no remorse, grunting at your words.

He was above you, pressing against you to the point you thought you were genuinely melting into the large couch. Your legs were spread for him, as he made himself more than comfortable between them, his upper broad body caging your much smaller one.

He only grunted in your ear, uttering lines between pet names and cursing how good you felt. Honestly you weren’t sure why you were pushing him away, it felt so good, but it was too good. The feeling was making your head spin and your heart pounding through your chest and your body trembling slightly.

“Want me to stop?” He panted, his pace now begging to slow down a little bit as his strokes now became sloppy, looking into your eyes as you shook your head, now digging your nails into his shoulders as you moaned.

My god, it felt as if he was splitting you into two, and you loved every second of it, you whined like a big baby, and he loved it. You felt as if you would’ve burst and couldn’t handle it, and he would just baby you and push you through it.

His positive words would ring through your ears as you babbled, now softly sobbing into his chest as he pressed back down onto you, rutting into you like some kind of animal. You only reached your arms out over his back, hugging him now as you began to do the same with your legs, locking him in place as you felt your high approaching.

He could already tell you were close from how you held him, and your crying getting louder. His grunts and moans became louder, repeating his phrase of 'oh fuck’ over and over again into your neck as he was close as well. You began to squeeze around his length as he dug deeper into you, placing one hand on your lower stomach, repeatedly tickling your cervix with his cock.

You began to grow louder; whoever your neighbors were would’ve definitely heard the sounds of your voices mixing with one another and your skin speaking to one another. Katsuki quickly pulled you into a passionate kiss, your tongues quickly tangled with one another as he pulled his head away, now completely focused on making you cum.

As your vision was clouded in tears you could see the beads of sweat rolling down Katsuki's forehead and neck now, you wrapped your hands around his neck. You quickly began to feel a familiar tightening in your stomach as your heart fluttered softly. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol to blame for the way you felt and how much your body responded back to his, but it was nothing you'd ever felt before.

“I’m gonna- baby, I’m so close,” you babbled, now shutting your eyes tightly, letting the tears streaming down the sides of your face as you mewled. He only huffed and hummed in response, keeping the same pace as he came down to your ear. In a way, you prayed this moment wouldn't end; the blissful enjoyment of making love to one another was so suffocating.

“M'gonna fill you up, keep ya nice n’ full” He whispered, letting out a grunt afterwards as his breath hitched. You had finally reached your breaking point as you had already once tonight beforehand. Your orgasm ripping through you as you shouted out, holding onto your lover for dear life as you began to spasm, your legs shaking slightly while still being wrapped around his large back.

Your own orgasm had sent him over the edge, now coming to a complete stop and placing all of his strength into burying himself deep into you, the head of his cock kissing your cervix as you groaned, feeling him twitch inside of you before quickly cumming inside of you.

You both laid there for a moment, your legs still around him as he was still buried deep in you as you caught your breaths. Cursing 'fuck' in unison as you both began to come down from your high before he pulled out, groaning as he did so. The two of you just laid there, looking into one another's eyes before he leaned down to kiss you, clearly exhausted.

He only moved over to the side, grabbing a large blanket that had been folded behind him from your previous laundry before throwing it over the top of you two. He rested his head between your breasts and kissed the area softly; you only smiled at him sleepily before wrapping your arms around his head.

Without even realizing it, you fell asleep almost immediately, praying things would smooth out in the morning.

They in fact, did not.

✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡✗♡

Taglist: @matchat3a @pikachuzhc @froggy-crystal @idiotboys @gojosukuna2268 @dragonscribbles @adherethecomingofage

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn

[kaoriartss-blog]

Starburst

Chapter 12 – “A Day with No Schedule”

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter

Pairing: Poly Skz OT8 x Reader idol

Genre: Romance, angst, female Oc

Warning: Use of Oc, romance, angst, swearing, Idol x Idol, 18+ progressive, use of swear words, use of translator.

Series: Starbursts

Summary: The story centers on Lia, a newly debuted solo idol struggling to find her place in the K-pop industry. Despite her talent, she feels like she's missing something, a special connection that helps her shine. The members of Stray Kids, who are at the height of their careers, are drawn to Lia's unique energy when she's invited to collaborate with them on a new album. As they work together, the connection between Lia and the boys intensifies. With pressure from the media and fan expectations, they must find a balance between their careers and personal lives.

Comment: Hello, first of all I want to thank you all for the support that the work is receiving, I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart. Second, I would like to clarify a few things: I started writing this story after reading many other stories on ao3 that for their proper reasons did not have an ending, so this is more of a very personal thing that I am willing to share with you. This brings me to the third point, my story is very, TOO, advanced compared to what I am currently writing, so if you don't like something or have suggestions, let me know and I could fix certain things in the next chapters that have not yet been published. And one last and fourth thing, to the person who told me that I cannot use the term "x reader" because I am using "a damn oc" please, keep your venom to yourself and if you don't like it, just don't read it, nobody forces you to. Thank you 💞

Updates on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. I also remind you that English is not my first language.

After weeks of rehearsals, recordings, creative meetings, and a teaser filmed outdoors, the house finally woke up without rush or alarms. It was a day off. No cameras, no staff, no timetables. Just the nine of them… and the gentle sound of the coffee machine bubbling in the kitchen.

08:39 AM. Kitchen.

Chan, wearing a gray hoodie and with messy hair, was pouring two cups of coffee when he heard barefoot steps behind him. Lia, in an oversized t-shirt and her hair in a high bun, came in rubbing her eyes.

“Is that… real coffee?” she mumbled, still half-asleep.

Chan smiled and offered her a cup.

“I wouldn’t cheat on our day off. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock.” She took a sip. “You?”

“I had a weird dream. Hyunjin was singing opera and Lino was crying because his ice cream melted.”

“That sounds 100% realistic,” she laughed.

09:10 AM. Living Room.

Felix and Seungmin had built a blanket fort between the couch and the coffee table. Jeongin watched them with a mix of fascination and horror while Lino ignored them completely, focused on watering the backyard plants.

“Do you really need that many pillows?” asked Jeongin, arms crossed.

“It’s art,” said Felix, seriously. “The art of rest.”

Lia dropped onto the couch next to Han, who was flipping through a poetry book.

“What are you reading?”

“One of those books that seem deep but you don’t understand anything. Makes me feel more interesting.”

11:27 AM. Kitchen.

Minho and Changbin were cooking together. Soft music played, both wearing aprons. Minho was chopping ingredients with precision while Changbin tasted the sauce and frowned.

“This needs more… something,” he said.

“Thanks, Gordon Ramsay. Add garlic and don’t distract me.”

“Why are you always so bossy in the kitchen?”

“Because you get distracted too easily. Like with Lia, for example,” Minho said, not even looking up.

Changbin glanced at him, blushing, and then pretended to be busy checking the noodles.

13:15 PM. Dining Room.

Everyone was eating together around the big living room table, laughing over some story Jeongin and Han told about a cockroach in the bathroom. Lia had a napkin on her head, crowned the “lunch queen” for making raisin rice as a side dish.

“Rimi-ya, can I have another serving of this?” Hyunjin asked with shining eyes.

“After saying it looked like grandma food?”

“Grandmas are the best chefs. I take it back.”

15:30 PM. Backyard.

The sun gently fell over the pool. Some were on lounge chairs, others dipping their feet in the water. Chan read quietly, Seungmin napped with a cap over his face, and Hyunjin took selfies with Lia.

“One more! This time with a duck face,” Hyunjin said, laughing.

“That trend died in 2014!”

“Then we’re vintage art. Shhh.”

17:45 PM. Music Room.

Lia walked in looking for her lyrics notebook but found Changbin playing the keyboard softly, humming a gentle melody. He looked up and gave a shy smile.

“Is that the new demo?”

“Just messing around.” He scooted over. “Want to try something?”

She sat beside him, her fingers gently pressing the keys. They improvised something simple, a chord progression with a couple of English lines. No effort. No pressure. Just music.

20:00 PM. Movie Night.

Everyone was gathered in front of the TV. Popcorn, blankets, and a democratic vote that ended with a Korean rom-com chosen by majority.

Lia snuggled between Felix and Seungmin, her feet resting on Han’s thighs. Jeongin had fallen asleep within the first ten minutes, and Minho was drawing mustaches on him with lipstick.

“I don’t know if this counts as rest or group therapy,” Chan said with a smile.

“Both,” Lia replied, happy.

01:03 AM. Living Room.

The house was quiet. The dim kitchen lights still flickered softly, and the echo of the romantic comedy lingered from the now-blank TV. Lia had gone to bed a while ago, exhausted from the day, leaving the boys scattered among cushions, couches, and rugs.

Chan was sitting on the floor, staring distractedly at a steaming cup of tea when he spoke in a low voice:

“We need to talk… all of us.”

All eyes turned to him. It wasn’t a commanding tone, but it carried seriousness. One by one, the members stopped what they were doing: Seungmin removed his headphones, Changbin put down his phone, Hyunjin sat cross-legged, Felix straightened up. Even Han and Jeongin, who had been playing with a silly app, looked up attentively.

“It’s about Lia,” Chan said, getting straight to the point.

A heavy silence fell. No one said anything, but no one looked away.

“I’m not going to judge anyone. In fact… I’d be stupid to. I care about her a lot, and I understand perfectly why you all feel this way,” he said with a soft smile. “But it’s not just intuition anymore. I see it. In the way you look at her, how you worry about her, how each of you reacts differently when she enters the room.”

Changbin looked down. Seungmin pressed his lips together. Hyunjin took a deep breath.

“There’s nothing wrong with having feelings for someone,” Chan continued. “But we’re eight people living together, working together… and in love with the same girl.”

“It’s not just a crush,” Han murmured.

“No,” said Hyunjin, arms crossed. “It’s not.”

Felix nodded slowly.

“I want her to be happy. And I want to be there if she lets me.”

“So what do we do? Compete?” Jeongin asked with a grimace. “Or ignore our feelings and pretend?”

“I don’t think Lia would like us fighting over her,” Seungmin said, looking at his cup. “In fact, I think that would make her feel guilty. And she shouldn’t carry that.”

Chan stood up slowly and looked at them one by one.

“I’m just proposing something. Something… crazy, maybe. But healthier than hiding feelings or creating tension between us. If everyone agrees, and if Lia agrees too, we could… share this affection.”

“How?” asked Changbin, frowning.

“No lies. No double games. If she feels like having romantic moments with one of us, or with several… let her. With freedom. With respect. And if at any moment she feels uncomfortable or wants to stop, we all accept her decision.”

Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair.

“An emotional agreement?”

“A way to not break as a group or pressure her.” Chan paused. “This only works if there’s no toxic jealousy, no dirty games. If what we feel is real, then the deepest respect should come from that.”

Everyone stayed silent for a few seconds. And slowly, they nodded.

“It’s not conventional…” Felix said.

“But nothing in our life is,” Han added, smiling tiredly.

“Then it’s a deal.” Seungmin looked at them all. “But no one says anything until she’s ready. Or until we’re sure she is.”

Chan nodded, relieved.

“Good. We’re a family. Let’s not let this tear us apart. If she loves several of us, or just one, or none at all… we’ll accept it. But until then, we have the green light to be honest. With her and with each other.”

The tension gave way to a strange calm. It wasn’t a normal solution, but it was theirs. A silent pact sealed in the early morning.

And while Lia slept, unaware in her room, eight hearts aligned with a promise: to protect her world and the bond they shared, no matter what comes next.

[trippinsorrows]

What is the story about?

there's a detailed summary included in the masterlist. i'd strongly recommend reading that, but for a cliffsnotes version, it's an arranged marriage mafia au.

What is the main pairing?

roman reigns and a black/biracial (black father and mexican mother) oc.

When is the story set?

2024.

Where is the story set?

i've always kept it vague, leaving it up to the reader to decide, but the city is often referred to as gotham via asks and conversations, because the nature and dynamic of where they live is very gotham aligned.

What is the age difference between the two protagonists?

10 years. at the beginning of the story, roman is 38, and solana is 28. he was born in 1985. solana was born in 1995.

What genre is the story?

it's a slow burn romance/drama.

How slow we talking?

pretty slow. if you're looking for a "quick" love story, this ain't it.

Is there a happy ending?

i can't confirm or deny anything.

Can I skip certain chapters that have intense trigger warnings?

technically, you can do whatever you want. i will say though that i strongly discourage the skipping of any chapters, as each builds onto the next. just skipping/missing one chapter could have you very confused. the overall story is pretty heavy in general, so if tw's are something you're worried or concerned about, it's probably best to skip this one. ❤️

I see a lot of asks about the story, spoiling things. What do I do?

if you are actively reading ltye and following me (thank you for both, btw!), i strongly urge you to filter out the 'ltye ask' and 'ltye latest' tags until you are caught up. this should avoid any spoilers!

Does Roman get less mean as the story progresses?

all of the characters go on some sort of journey throughout the story. roman included.

What's the story between Roman and Samantha?

roman was extremely promiscuous before his marriage to solana and had a "roster" of women he's entertained over the years. samantha was number one on that list. he's messed with her on and off since he was 15. they lost their virginity to one another.

How intense is this story?

pretty freaking intense. content and trigger warnings are included in the masterlist as well as every chapter. i strongly recommend reading the ones included in the masterlist as well as the ones included before every chapter. ultimately, you are responsible for the media you decide to consume.

Why is the pacing so slow?

this is a story told with long-term storytelling. it's normal to wonder if and when something will be addressed or resolved, because 99% of the time, it won't happen in the next chapter. many of the storylines are intended to play out over time. all the dots will connect before all is said and done.

When are updates?

there is no fixed update schedule for this story or any of my stories. i write based on what i'm feeling, though i do typically provide updates as to what i'm working on/when it's coming.

Who all is included in the story?

please see the character list on the masterlist, as well as the separate post for characters. also, please keep in mind that this is not an exhaustive list as to allow for certain characters' appearances to remain a surprise.

Who is the face claim for Solana?

her name is charlie ellis. her ig is @/charlie_fornow (remove the forward slash)

Why are the chapters so long?

your guess is as good as mine. it's never intentional, i can promise you that. lmao.

Can I look at the text visuals/shorts/oneshots before reading the actual story?

no. these are things that serve as additives to the main story. you really have to be caught up with the og story before looking at those, or there's a 99.9% chance you will spoil something, potentially major, for yourself.

Why do I see people call it the "OG" story?

because ltye is the first story i wrote in this "multiverse." all of the other stories included in the ltye masterlists (one and two) came after the first. therefore, it's the og story.

I wanna ask a question, but I'm shy. What do I do?

no worries, babe! i completely understand that. my anonymous feature is always enabled, so you can ask that way! or, maybe your question has already been previously answered, so you can peruse the question tag. and, again, my dm's are always open, so if you feel comfortable, you can private message me.

Can I be tagged in this story?

you surely can! add your information to my taglist request form. note: lack of engagement for a certain period of time might result in you being removed from the taglist. it really is a process to keep track and include taglists with updates, so, respectfully, if there is no kind of feedback (like, comment, ask, reblog, etc), i will quietly remove you from my taglist.

Do you take requests/suggestions?

it really depends on what it is. send me an ask, and we can discuss it! also, make sure to check out the shorts/oneshots suggestions to post to ensure it's not already in the works!

What if I have a question not included in this FAQ?

there are a couple of options.

send me an ask! i tend to get a lot of them for this here lil' world, so i don't mind at all.

peruse the already existing list of questions related to the story. note: all questions pertaining to og ltye are tagged with 'ltye ask'

request a question be added to this faq, again, by sending me an ask or dm.

[h3lfaerie]

Hey babies, I'm alive ❤️

Still affording as much time as I can while packing up as I am ready to move out of my current household. I have had to prioritize taking care of legalities, which is why I've genuinely struggled keeping up with the daily updates but I'm dropping in to say I have not forgotten about you and I love you all very much.

I wish I had more to say in regards to the update, but I've had to focus on packing my entire life. Yours truly will be flying out of the country, semi-permanently... Which is weirdly not the first time I've done this.

But it's still genuinely horrifying.

Even more so when I'm not even moving to a new household. I'm going traveling for a little bit, perhaps for the rest of the year. So, I haven't just been packing. I've been cleansing myself of belongings that no longer serve me, either by selling them, donating or simply giving them away.

I've decided I want to pursue making art while on the go, while somehow making it work with no money. I have no clue how that's gonna work. But I think I'm supposed to discover that. I did this once already when I came to study in the UK, and I did it all alone. So, when it comes to packing up and simply leaving, I know I'm starting from experience.

I'm Eastern European. I've been in the UK for the last 6 years and I'm simply not happy here. I started writing Path of Alfheim on a whim and it became something that helped me realize I crave so much more out of life. Because for a very long time I've felt anchored to a piece of land that no longer aligns with what I want.

And I wonder who else feels like that... I've been subconsciously pouring myself into Hiccup for the last two years without even realizing.

Wow.

It's a tale as old as time to have a portion of your soul carved into your characters, it should not have come as a surprise but it still did.

I've been wracking my brain with questions like "What am I meant to do with my life?" and "Where to now?" when in reality the answer is simple.

The happiest I've felt these past 2 years is when I've been writing, when I've had the chance to be on stage, when I've snuck away to simply make things... When I've had the freedom to explore. And I need to know what that feels like at its fullest.

I'm going on a journey that is uncertain and a little scary. But I'm taking you with me. And though I don't necessarily have an update on the fic itself today, I wanted to come in and share that one little piece of me with those of you who felt connected to the silly little world I created on a random sleepless night after I had cried my eyes out.

I struggle with deadlines.

It's ridiculously difficult for me to stick to a schedule.

I've always been an intuitive writer, intuitive in terms of art as a whole. Which means I don't force it. I simply let it flow when it comes.

I'm choosing a life where I dedicate myself to that purpose. Where I get to write Path of Alfheim whenever I want, without worrying if I'll make rent next month, where I can make art as I please and still have energy left because I'm not destroying my body at some minimum wage ungrateful job. I've had a portion of time these past few days where I haven't been able to dedicate as much time as I'd like to writing, but the fic itself is about to expand in ways even I haven't discovered.

I'm doing this because I've decided I want to dedicate myself to creativity.

It's been ages since I've had a chance to post a new chapter and I feel horrible for making you wait so long.

So, I hope that with these words of mine you can feel how devoted I am to this project. How much it's helped me find myself, and how much it ain't going anywhere anytime soon.

If you remember one thing from reading my post today, let me leave you with this... Should you not create, you will deteriorate.

You owe it to yourself to live your truth.

I'm going traveling for a while to find mine. And I know that my art, and Path of Alfheim as a whole, will reflect that truth in ways I can't wait to share with you.

I love you all. Stay safe. And I shall post again soon. ❤️

[personasintro]

I think that probably this anon might have gotten attacked or something for saying that they didn’t like the story for whatever reason (and they came here anonymously and made this comment probably because people were really saying bad things to them), which is also wrong. Why harass someone like that? You like a story it’s okay and you don’t like a story that’s also okay. There have been times where I read something and shared my opinion about it in a respectful way. I understand that anons way of saying it made it sound rude but for the author to also assume that they're taking a jab at her readers without knowing why the anon said what they said

No hate to anyone - read the previous ask and thought I’d say something

Also hello to mimi I hope you’re doing well !! 🥹Chapter 59 was really good 😊

Let me clarify – I didn't not assume, I have seen the comments and messages bunch of anons sent me, talking about other readers. I absolutely understand we all have different morals and opinions in any matter at that, especially when it comes to sharing opinions. Anon in their ask shared their unpopular opinion and gave no other context of why they have sent it.

Putting it out simply – people who get it, get it. I'm not saying this as a writer, just a person who becomes a reader herself sometimes – if I don't have anything nice to say, I don't say it. And I absolutely understand this is just my way – I do not force anyone to do it as well. But I can't imagine reading a story and it's not up to my standards, and then giving that energy to open their profile and send them a long paragraph how I think their story is not good because I don't know – the updating schedule, or the story's pace and its length.

Especially since all these people are always around, reading my asks and by now they probably know that I either, don't react to that kind of stuff and if I do, I always just say well this is how I do it and I love writing my story this way. I have spent a lot of time discussing it with them and being very positive.

Sometimes, people are just here to spread negativity and anyone with a sense can probably tell by the way they write their message. It's more about getting offended if their "constructive criticism" isn't agreed on.

And what I want to say by this – everyone has different opinions but it's more about how you deliver it and most importantly, why. There are writers who are willing to change to please everyone's wishes and needs. There are writers who specifically ask – what do you not like about this and this? (And I'm not talking about not liking anything in the stories in terms of characters or what's happened in the story. I'm talking here about critizing writer's way of doing things).

I guess it's just important to be able to tell when to give your energy and if it's needed :)

[callsign-joyride]

Rules & Regulations | 0.6

Summary: You work in the human resources department at NAS North Island. A noise complaint at a hotel leads to some unexpected endeavors - and an ironic workplace romance.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader (no use of Y/N)

Content warnings: Fluff, Iceman being a cock block, implied smut

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter | Previous Chapter

Wednesday had rolled around faster than expected. You spent the week combing through applications for Top Gun instructors, only being able to approve a few before the influx of meetings and events came up. It wasn’t a surprise that you were already getting emails from the new hires, even though they wouldn’t be scheduled to start for another few weeks. Natasha walked in after quickly knocking on the door and you shut your laptop to talk to her.

“How are things going with Bradley?” She asked.

“Oh my God, they’re going great. He’s a pretty good cook, the sex is great, and we’ve been texting each other all the time. Things aren’t even serious and I’m already probably the happiest I’ve ever been, honestly.”

“That’s good, and I’m glad that you’re happy. Bradley really is a great guy and I can tell that he likes you a lot. He's literally smitten.”

You chuckled and took a sip of your water. One of you was going to have to make the first big leap, and soon. You didn't want to wait around for him to ask you to be his girlfriend. So, you texted him to ask if he wanted to grab something for lunch. Surprisingly, he immediately responded with an enthusiastic yes. Natasha left after checking her watch and realizing that they were about to start training, and you watched them from your window for a few minutes. 

Cyclone and Warlock stopped in to ask you if there had been any new reports or updates on anything. You shrugged and walked over to your computer.

“One of the new hires under Hangman's command is about to be one of our problem children. He's been hounding me non-stop about off base housing. I'm trying to give him some grace because it doesn't look like he's been stationed outside of PensacolaPensacola for anything long-term, but, God, take me out of my misery.”

Warlock chuckled and sat across from you at your desk. He grabbed a couple of pieces of candy and shoved them into his pockets to “go with his lunch”, but you knew he’d eat them as soon as he left the room. The day was pretty slow, since you got everything done in the morning. Bradley was surprised when you told him that you were thinking of going home early while the two of you ate burrito bowls. 

“If you’re going home early, is now a good time to ask you a kind-of-important question? It could wait until later, though,” Bradley said. You nodded and put your fork down. 

“I was uh, wondering if-,” the door to your office swung open. Tom walked in, holding a box of cupcakes. Bradley shot out of the chair and gave him a salute, before being told that he was at ease. 

“Hey, Tom!” You cheerfully said, “What are you doing here? Why do you have cupcakes? It’s not your birthday.”

He shrugged. “Mav told me that it doesn’t have to be a special occasion for cupcakes, and I wanted cupcakes. My wife is at work today so she couldn’t make them if she wanted to.”

“Ah, okay. Well, we’re just finishing up our lunch if you wanna put those down and we can chat for a bit.”

You didn't notice, but Bradley slumped his shoulders and sighed. This wasn't the plan. He wasn't going to ask you to be his girlfriend in front of his boss. He wasn't that stupid. Tom didn’t leave your office until lunch was technically over, and, by then, Bradley didn’t have time to ask you. You walked down the hallway to the tarmac with him and kept the conversation light. Before both of you had made it outside, he stopped by the door and turned to look at you.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” He asked.

“No, why?”

“Let me take you out. We can do whatever you want, if that counts for anything.”

You smiled and accepted his offer, giving him a hug before he went outside. You grabbed a cupcake on your way back to your office, since you had something to celebrate. Once you sat down, you excitedly texted Natasha the news - that Bradley was taking you out and that you were sure that he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend. He had that look in his eyes before Tom walked in and gave you cupcakes. You went home early, just as you thought you would, and spent the rest of the day on the couch in comfy clothes. You weren’t going anywhere, and you were almost worried that it would make the night complicated since Bradley said that he wanted to take you out. 

He seemed more excited that you wanted to stay in, and said that he would need time to shower and get into his own comfy clothes before picking up food and heading over to you. You were surprised when he knocked on your door, holding two boxes of pizza and a case of beer. (He thought that beer was way better than wine, and you kind of agreed.) You weren’t sure of what you wanted to watch, so you handed him the remote and watched as he put on a random horror movie. 

Both of you laughed at the idiocy of the characters, and you were still talking about it after the credits rolled. As the laughter died down and you were able to catch your breath, Bradley put down his plate and turned to you, looking into your eyes.

“About that question that I wanted to ask you earlier…”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I’ve thought about it, and I don’t think that I want to be with anyone else but you right now. I’m tired of dating around and casual hookups. I’ve been tired of that stuff for a while now. I guess what I’m saying is, I want you to be my girlfriend. But only if you want to be my girlfriend.”

You were grinning from ear to ear and trying not to scream and kick your feet out of excitement. 

“Bradley, of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”

He was grinning, too, and he grabbed both sides of your face and pulled you in for a big kiss. Soon enough, you were on the floor, on top of him, and he had his belt undone. You could see the lust in his eyes as he put his hands on your hips and said, “Let’s go to the bedroom."

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[anotherbrahmsfangirl]

Probable Brahms Birthday Tidbits

And zodiacs, and mythologies. I'm by no means an expert in all theses subjects, I just dabble for fun. Everything outside of my opinions were found on wiki or other websites devoted to that subject.

UPDATE

Well fuuuuck, I misheard Malcolm the 3-4 times i've watched the boy, I thought Emily came over for Brahms birthday, but it was the opposite. So that means Nov. 15th (or 13th or 14th) was EMILY CRIBBS birthday =_=. ugh, I'm a doofus. oh well, still keeping all my hard work below the cut. If we ever find out his real B-day, I'll update it then. Womp Womp.

If we go by this newspaper clipping from The Boy 2, Brahms birthday could have been Nov. 15th

or, this article could have been published a day or 2 after the event, which could mean his birthday is Nov. 13, 14, or 15th, unfortunately without an exact date i can't do a deeper dive on his star sign, but this puts in right in the middle of Scorpio.

digging through a few horoscope sites, the general consensus of Scorpio is a deep passion, passion of life, passion for hobbies, passion at work, and passion in love, and yeah, I can see that with Brahms. Clearly his main passion is for music (other things like taxidermy, poetry,reading, and crafting coming in a close second). His room was covered in music sheets in the first movie. Hard to see because the camera moved quickly, but as other tumblr posts have pointed out, he has a violin in both his childhood room and in his adult attic room. In the second movie, they make a conscious effort to zoom in on music sheets stapled in the corridors of the Heelshire manor.

Let's break down Scorpio, starting with it's element, Water.

The water element in astrology is associated with the zodiac signs Cancer, Scorpio, and Pisces. These signs are known for their emotional depth, sensitivity, and intuitive nature. Water signs are often described as empathetic and nurturing, with a strong connection to their subconscious. They tend to absorb the emotions of those around them and are deeply invested in their relationships and passions. Each water sign has unique qualities: Cancer is the caretaker, Scorpio is the transformative and enigmatic figure, and Pisces is the dreamy and spiritual sign.

With what little we are given of Brahms backstory, or screen time in the first movie, things like empathy and sensitivity are a hard to gauge, but Brahms pouring all his energy into his nanny and his passion for music and well, for lack of a better term, "crafts" do show a dedication and passion to what he finds important. i do like the terms transformative and enigmatic for Brahms. That boy is the definition of a mystery, easily transforming his demeanor to manipulate any situation (to varying results).

Scorpio is a fixed Negative polarity

In Western astrology, the polarity divides the zodiac in half and refers to the alignment of a sign's energy as either positive or negative, with various attributes associated to them as a result. Negative polarity signs, also called passive, yin, receptive, or feminine signs, are the six even-numbered signs of the zodiac: Taurus, Cancer, Virgo, Scorpio, Capricorn, and Pisces. Fixed = Resistance to change, great willpower, inflexible

Now this is where the Rules come in, Brahms star sign, along with possibly being Autistic, makes him a stickler to his set way of life, preferring that others keep to HIS schedule and manor of keeping. But there is still a passiveness that Brahms embodies. As a grown 28 year old man he could easily have left the Heelshire manor, over powered his parents if he was truly trapped in his own hell, but is it one partially of his own making? Why leave when all his needs are taken care of? Why seek out companionship if his parents can just hire one for him to voyeuristically watch from behind the walls?

Scorpio is ruled by Pluto (classically Mars)

The assignments of the ruling planets appear to be based upon the Northern Hemisphere seasons. The discovery of planets outside of the geocentric field of vision in modern times provided a dilemma for astrologers, which most eventually resolved by a consensus declaring Uranus to be Aquarius' ruling planet while assigning Neptune to Pisces and later, Pluto, considered the higher octave of Mars, was given to Scorpio.

Pluto is the god of the Underworld in Roman mythology. Pluto chose never to sit on Olympus with the other gods and goddesses, preferring to remain in the Underworld. Pluto held court seated on an ebony throne next to his queen Persephone, but she was a reluctant queen. Kidnapped by Pluto and made a virtual prisoner, she was forced to spend three (some claim six) unhappy months a year in the Underworld; the remainder of the year was spent on earth as the goddess of vegetation.

Now that is an interesting coincidence, many of Pluto's choices mirror Brahms if you consider his attic room as a sort of underworld he ruled free from his parents and kept him from the rest of the world. As I have mentioned in another post, i found an excerpt from the painting, the garden of earthly delights, specifically a cropped section featuring a self portrait of the painter in hell.

Could his attic felt like a "Hell", or was he ruling an 'under world' all his own? The Abduction of Persephone also greatly mirrors Brahms dire need for a companion with Greta unknowingly playing the part of the unwilling goddess.

Personality Traits of a Scoripo

Strengths: Resourceful, powerful, brave, passionate, a true friend

Weaknesses: Distrusting, jealous, manipulative, violent

Scorpio likes: Truth, facts, being right, talents, teasing, passion

Scorpio dislikes: Dishonesty, revealing secrets, superficiality, small talk

Another basket full of traits I feel really embodies Brahms, especially his weaknesses, the jealousy, manipulative, and violent really jump out at me, as that's what we see most from him in what little we get to see in the movie.

Scorpios in love

Scorpio is the sign of sexuality and ultimate physically-emotional bonding with other people. Its representatives are extremely passionate, in constant search for absolute intimacy and love that will fill their entire lives with surrender, pleasure, and unity. Their partners have to be intelligent, practical, and honest, and compatibility of Scorpio with other signs depends greatly on their individual ability to embrace shadows within. Once they fall in love, they tend to be dedicated and faithful, and sometimes obsessive, possessive and overwhelming as well. Being extremely sensitive even when they don’t admit this to the world, they will choose partners carefully and need a lot of time to build trust and respect with anyone.

Whooo boy is that our Brahms! In the beginning of the film, Mrs, Heelshire asks Greta if she knows any poetry as if testing her knowledge on subjects that interest Brahms. She was being interviewed not only for the care taker role, but as a potential...wife... for Brahms. Remember they had decided to end it, so finding a compatible mate for their son was important.

Even the caring for the doll was like the introductory test for her supposedly life long care for Brahms. "If she could carefully care for a doll with love, surly she could care for him too", is what I'm sure was going through his mind during the weeks she stayed at the manor

Brahms, was born in 1983, this we Know for sure thanks to his headstone, this puts him in the year of the Pig on the Chinese Zodiac.

The Pig and the Elements

The natural element of the Pig is Water. Thus, it is commonly associated with emotions and intuitions. Yet, given that along with the elements, the animal zodiac also follows a cycle, each of the elements affect the characteristic of the same Earthly stem.

However, the Pig is yin, and thus only the negative aspects of the elements can be attached to them, thus only 5 kinds of Pigs are found in the zodiac.

They are the following:

乙亥 (yǐhài) – The Wood Pig

丁亥 (dīnghài) – The Fire Pig

己亥 (jǐhài) – The Earth Pig

辛亥 (xīnhài) – The Metal Pig

癸亥 (guǐhài) – The Water Pig

1983 is the Water Pig.

People born in years of the Water element are elegant and gentle beings, akin to the ebb and flow of waves. Despite their calm exterior, however, they can possess great depth that most are not privileged to glimpse. They can be quite innocent, even naive, and this trusting nature makes them appealing.

They tend to be fair and lithe in appearance with soft hair and glowing skin. They also tend to be introspective and more interested in activities like reading and writing, leading others to consider them rather shy when they are only lost in their own imagination.

Both as a friend and a romantic partner, those born with the Water element are empathetic and understanding. The only exception to this is when their own emotions take them hostage. They may feel at such a time that no one can understand the nuance and depth of their feelings.

They are not likely to take action when in love, but when their partners take the initiative they welcome it and reciprocate in folds.

Wow, while not everything pertains to Brahms, I'm surprised how much does describe his general nature. Both his western zodiac and Chinese zodiac are ruled by water.

According to Chinese horoscopes, Pigs are calm and cheerful, with the ability to speak and act with tact. They possess an unusual innocence and optimism, making them appear angelic and almost childlike, leading others to show their true selves.

They’re very popular for their easygoing ways, unexpectedly sharp intellect, and kind and loving forgiveness of others. When they find a purpose, they can apply this same enthusiasm toward achieving their goal with single-minded perseverance.

Angelic and childlike, you don't say. lol Well, he does use that to his advantage when dealing with Greta, leading her to believe he was a deceased child's spirit in order to lure out her true self, or her motherly instincts. Something I'm sure he greatly desires in a partner. Can't say he's at all easy going or having much of a forgiveness of others.

Let's see the Pigs Weaknesses

Pigs may be indulgent with themselves and protect their ego by way of inaction, with their compassion leading to emotional turbulence and them resorting to dramatic performances to ensure others will never leave their side.

And there it is... I'm betting Brahms leans heavily to the weaknesses of the Pig more so than the strengths, probably due to his life's situation. Could he be easy going and cheerful once he gets the help he so desperately needs?

Let's hope another movie brings more to light, if not, hopefully this will live in the fandom's minds to help flesh out future fan fictions.

[differenteagletragedy]

Did I write a smutty little Derek story based entirely on this moment in Step 3 after you flirt with him and tell him he's probably super toned?

Yes, I did, and I'm not sorry about it.

This is smut-lite, I'd say, a little racier than the similar-ish Baxter fic I wrote but nothing super crazy. It also may be OOC for Derek but give the man something, OK.

If someone had asked you when you were 13 who you saw yourself with in the future, without a doubt you would have answered "Derek Suarez." He was the boy you were going to marry. There was no doubt in your mind.

Back then, you liked him so much it hurt. Sometimes he'd say and do things that made you think he might feel the same way, but he never said anything. Well, he did ask you to marry him, but only if you were both single in 10 years. And when you tried to point out that if you liked each other, maybe you could just start dating now, he shut it down so fast that you were forced to accept that your crush must have been one-sided.

That was five years ago. A lot had changed since then -- you were still friends with Derek and you definitely still had a soft spot for him, but it had been a long time since you'd realized he didn't return your affections. You'd long since stopped hoping for anything to happen with him.

But during a call towards the end of summer, just before he was leaving for college, he made a remark. Just one little comment, nothing even particularly notable, at least not to the casual observer.

After that, it was on.

During your chat, you'd exchanged updates on how your summers had been going, and you made some offhanded comment about how much more toned he must be after all the training you knew he'd been doing to get ready for college. It was flirty, sure, but nothing crazy.

His response was what had surprised you. He had flirted back.

You could still hear it. His voice had gone low and quiet as he confirmed that he was even more toned that he was the last time you'd seen him, and then, with a smirk instead of his trademark wide smile, he'd said "I hope you can see it in person sometime."

It wasn't likely -- whether it was because of his busy schedule or just by his own design, he was rarely free for a visit. But because he was leaving so soon, Cove had begged and pleaded with him to come to Sunset Bird for one last beach day before adulthood officially began, and he'd agreed.

That's how you found yourself sitting on the shore between your two best friends, holding a fruit tray on your lap as they steadily demolished it.

"What are we going to do next?" Derek asked, grabbing another piece of pineapple. "We already hit up the playground and the grocery store, now we're eating fruit on the beach."

It was a Nostalgia Day -- the three of you were doing things you'd done during that first summer together.

"I don't think we have time to go to the mall," Cove said. "I'll have to be at work before we would get back."

"I think that knocks the pool at Derek's apartment building out too," you said.

"We did pick up the lemons and water balloons," Derek offered. "We'll definitely have time for that."

You and Cove nodded in agreement. You spent the next half hour or so picking at the fruit tray, talking about what was ahead for each of you, then decided it was time for the next activity.

The lemonade was made in Cove's kitchen just as it had been five years before -- except with no knife wounds. It tasted as sweet as it did then, and when you were done with your glasses Cove went back into the house and came out with an empty laundry basket.

"Let's load it up," he said, his tone turning serious.

You and Derek worked together filling the water balloons, and Cove placed them safely in the basket. When you'd made enough to fill it, you carried it out to the street. The three of you stood around it, looking at each other.

Just as you were about to suggest some terms for the battle, Cove struck. He quickly stuck his hand into the basket, pulled out a balloon and hurled it at Derek.

When you were 13, Cove's strategy was to stay by the ammunition, not caring if he got hit so long as he had easy access to hit others, and it hadn't changed. You and Derek grabbed your own balloons as you could, darting away from Cove, but in the end, there was a clear winner, and the sopping wet clothes you and Derek wore were proof.

"No mercy, huh, Cove?" Derek asked. Nonchalantly, he pulled his shirt over his head and wrung it out on the street.

You tried not to stare, but you didn't exactly succeed. Feeling your eyes on him, he turned to you, starting to say something, but he stopped. Your own shirt was soaked and clung to your chest -- it was his turn to stare. He let himself look for just a second before he turned away.

He and Cove started picking up the little broken pieces of the balloons that littered the street, and you joined them. By the time everything was said and done, Cove announced that it was time for him to get ready for work. He gave Derek a hug -- his friend would be leaving soon, and he knew this was goodbye for a while.

Cove retreated inside his house, and Derek looked to you, smiling.

"We can keep hanging out if you want," you told him. "I don't have anything to do."

"Me neither," he replied. "Or at least nothing I would like to do more."

You'd had enough outdoor fun for the day, so you decided to hang out in your room, another familiar activity from back when you were younger. This time, you were in a different room, having taken over Liz's bigger one after she left for school herself, and Derek looked around as you went to your closet to pull out a new shirt.

"Don't turn around," you told him, seeing his back was to you as he looked at the photos on your wall. He gave you a thumbs up, and you quickly switched your wet shirt for a dry one.

When you were done, you went to stand beside him and looked at him, then to your wall. His eyes, you could tell, were on one specific picture: one your moms had took of the two of you at the summer soiree.

"We were so little," you told him, trying to focus on the photo and not the warmth that was radiating off his body, so close to yours. He still hadn't put his shirt back on, and you were trying not to think about that either.

"I know," he said. "It was the perfect night. I thought my little 13-year-old heart would explode."

"What do you mean?"

"It was life or death, remember?" he asked. You did -- he had said that that night.

"My very first date, a fancy party with you," he said wistfully. "I wish I could go back and tell myself how good I had it then."

You studied his face then, determined to figure out what he was getting at. He had a similar kind of tone that he'd had during that flirty conversation on the phone the week before, but there was something else there too. Something deeper.

He turned to face you then, moving his body to face you as well. You mirrored him, and you stood close together, neither of you saying anything.

"I really did, you know?" Derek said finally. "Have it good, I mean. I got to spend so much time with you."

"Growing up is hard," you shrugged, trying to keep your cool. "Things get busy."

"I shouldn't have let it get so busy that I stopped being so close to you."

Taking a steadying breath, you said, "We're close now."

He looked at you for a bit, and you could practically see a war going on in his mind. You imagined him imagining what you meant, what he thought was right, what you could do together here in your room while you were home alone. What he needed and what he thought he deserved.

It was tough to see him battling with himself. He'd been doing it for years, and you wanted to help him stop, if only for a little bit.

You raised a hand that you hoped didn't look as shaky as it felt and placed it on his shoulder. His muscles tensed under your touch. He looked down at your hand there, then to your face. You weren't sure how to tell him that it was ok, that he could be with you if he wanted, so you tried to convey the message with your eyes.

His flirty tone that had been on your mind all week couldn't have possibly been from this man that stood in front of you. Over the phone he's been assertive, forward, but now that you were actually in front of each other he couldn't make a move.

"Derek?" you prompted, stroking a thumb over his shoulder.

He inhaled deeply, then stiffly brought his hands up to your waist. He gripped you, testing the waters a bit, and you stepped closer to him and placed your other hand on the back of his neck.

"We are," he said. "Close now."

With a painful slowness, he brought his mouth closer to yours. He paused then, bringing his eyes from your lips to see if you were all right. You nodded, and he leaned the rest of the way in.

His kiss was, as you'd imagined, soft and gentle, like he was. It was careful and unassuming, and so sweet. You enjoyed it for a moment, taking in the fact that you were actually, finally kissing him. You pressed it into your memory.

But then you wanted more.

You pulled him in closer, deepening the kiss, and as timid as he was about this, he readily responded. His hands dipped a little lower, the tips of his fingers grazing over the curve of your hips before he moved them back up. With a little grunt of protest against his lips, you grabbed his hands and placed them where they'd wanted to go.

He laughed, and while normally you would delight in the sound, it wasn't what you were going for now, so you caught his lips in another kiss.

Slowly, he loosed up a little. He had more fun with kissing you, exploring your mouth for the first time. His hands freely roamed along your hips, down to your thighs and around to your back. A moan slipped from your mouth to his, and he pulled back.

"Is this ok?" he asked.

"Yeah. Is it ok with you?"

He smiled, placing another kiss on your forehead, and said, "I'm managing."

At some point, he slid his hands under the the bottom hem of your shirt, caressing the bare skin there. Figuring that it wasn't fair that he was the only one without a shirt, you hastily threw yours over your head and off to the side. It was his turn to moan.

Figuring that being the initiator here had played in your favor so far, you eventually started leading him over to your bed. You sat first, pulling him down with you, then you laid down on your back, hoping he'd fall into place.

With an ease that made you proud, he gently grabbed one of your knees and pulled it to the side so he could fit between your legs. He lowered himself down over you, letting your bodies touch while he still held his weight up himself. Instead of going back to your mouth, he trailed kisses all along your neck, across your collarbone and slowly -- always slowly, giving you plenty of room to pull back if you wanted -- down your chest.

You thought about how much you'd thought about having him here, exactly like this. It was better than you'd imagined, but of course it was -- actually being able to feel his warmth, see the sparkle in his pretty green eyes whenever he took a second to look up at you wasn't something you could duplicate in your dreams.

Then an unwelcome thought came -- he'd be leaving soon. In a matter of days, he'd be gone and who knows exactly when he'd come back, or when you'd get a chance to be like this again? Or if you ever would get the chance?

The thought made you a bit desperate, and you raised your hips to connect with his. His hands, which had been holding onto your hips as he kissed his way down your stomach, clenched. His breath was shallow against your skin.

"You would tell me if you wanted to stop, right?" he asked, almost bashfully. You assured him that you would, of course you would, and added, a bit bashful yourself, that you were a long ways from wanting to stop.

He slid his fingers just under the waistband of your shorts and looked up at you, wanting to be certain before he proceeded. Once again, you nodded, and he stripped you down to your underwear.

"I never thought this would happen," he murmured, coming back up to your lips. Between kisses, he said, "I wanted this for so long. Is that weird to say?"

"No," you said, "I have too. So if it's weird then at least we're both weird."

"I can live with that."

His hand started roaming again, but this time he found his way into your underwear and got to work.

As your sighs and groans grew louder and more frequent, so did his, although you weren't touching him, not yet. He kept kissing your cheek, your jawline, your temple -- anywhere he could get as he focused on moving his hand in the ways that seemed to please you most. You gripped onto his arm to steady yourself, feeling your release coming, and before he could misinterpret it you told him, "Please don't stop."

The gentleman that he was, he obliged.

When you were done -- when he was sure you were done -- he dragged his hand back up your body, confident enough now to touch you wherever he wanted. But, you'd decided, it was his turn. You nudged his shoulder, guiding him to lie down, then sat up and started pulling on his gym shorts. You took a page out of his book, going slow enough so he'd have time to tell you if he wanted you to stop.

Instead, he said, "You don't have to."

"I want to," you told him. "Is that ok?"

He thought about it, then nodded, shy again. But when you slid down his shorts, his underwear with them, and took him in your hand, the shyness was gone.

You knew Derek, and you know that he very rarely indulged himself. He always took care of everyone else and got uneasy when anyone tried to do the same for him. So you took your time.

Thankfully, he seemed to enjoy himself immensely. As you moved your hand, you started talking to him a low voice not unlike the one he'd used in that phone call that started all of this. You told him how good he was, how beautiful, as soon as a compliment popped in your head you showered it down on him, and it was impossible to come up short with words of praise when it came to him. His cheeks became as flushed as his chest, he was grunting and gasping and jerking, but when you moved to put your mouth over him, he put a firm hand on your shoulder.

"No," he said. "Don't, I didn't do that for you."

"It's not a contest," you told him with a laugh.

"Maybe not. But if it is, I want to win."

You hummed in thought, rubbing your free hand down his thigh, and after he was done with that particular moan, you said, "What if this is just the second quarter? Not even to halftime yet, plenty of chances to take the lead."

He grinned. "I can work with that, I think."

After he had finished ... well, it didn't seem like he was finished. With a passion he didn't have before, he pushed you back down to the bed and kissed you hard. His hand found its way back to your underwear, and this time you quickly took them off before letting him wrap you in his arms and pull you tight against him.

He was making the sweetest sounds, and you were breathless as he put his hand between your legs again. This time he was working quicker -- he was a fast learner. You felt him against your thigh, getting hard again already, and you found yourself trying to remember where you'd put those condoms your moms had given you, "just in case."

Before you could place them, there was a flurry of noise downstairs. Your family was home, and they weren't being quiet about it.

Derek froze and looked at you, starting to panic. Understanding that things couldn't go as far as you wanted them to put not willing to be done just yet, you started rocking your hips against his hand. He buried his face in the crook of your neck to hide the noise that move had brought out of him.

Once again, he brought you to climax, and it was your turn to muffle your cries again him. When your breathing slowed, he gave you a slow, easy kiss, then said, "We better get dressed."

You moaned, but it wasn't as fun as when you'd done it earlier.

"Come on," he said, giving you another peck before hopping out of your bed. "I'm not about to be caught in your room naked."

You watched as he quickly got dressed, and you felt his eyes on you as you did the same. Before, he wouldn't have dared to check you out like this. Now he was drinking it in shamelessly.

When you were both presentable, you saw his smile fade a bit. You raised your eyebrows, and he said, "I wish this wasn't over. I wish we had more time."

You could tell he wasn't just talking about this afternoon.

"Well, just remember what I said," you told him, stepping closer and gripping his arms for the pep talk. "This is halftime. The game's not over yet."

He smirked at your attempt at a sports metaphor, then surprised you by moving a hand down to squeeze your ass.

"Oh, it's not over by a long shot."

[hayatheauthor]

A writing update no one asked for. Read on if you're interested in:

What am I working on right now and when will my books be out

A bit about my current projects and sneak peeks for the plot of a new one

Slight context to my current (mental) life and how it's impacting my writing schedule/journey

What's going on with my social media side of things (and why have my Insta/TikTok been dead for months).

Around 4-5 paras long :)

Currently, I have 2 books that I'm working on. One, as many of you many of you may know, is The Traitor's Throne. After a long while querying, editing, and rewriting this book from when I was 16-17 I came to a decision to drop this book when I turned 18 and start on another project (that we shall call B)

So far, B is almost done with the first draft. Normally I take only 2-3 months per draft but this took almost 9 months. Now, 2 months away from my 19th birthday, I've decided to revisit The Traitor's Throne and work on things my 16-year-old self probably overlooked.

I'm currently shifting between both of these books, both are too early in the writing/rewriting stages to have an actual book ready for anyone to see. But I like what I'm doing. I get to explore two sides of myself: thriller and fantasy.

As someone who runs a writing advice blog, I felt the need to clarify that I'm not some NY bestselling author selling thousands of copies. I'm just some teenager (barely even that anymore) who loves nerding out and gathering random facts, and I decided to share said facts with people who are like me.

In terms of social media, I am planning to return to it from 2025 onwards. I also have a lot planned for GCs and writing spaces which is something quite a few people have asked me about.

Anyways, that's about everything I had to say. If you made it this far thanks for reading!

[st4rsnf1cs]

Missed

Pairings: Commander Cody x Kenobi! Reader

Summary: your Obi-wan's sister, and Cody knocked you up in the midst of your secret relationship. And now he's coming to terms with being a father, now that he gets to hold his son in your arms.

Ganre: mostly fluff, a bit of sensuality

Word count: 1,713

Warnings: nudity (no smut)

A/n: this was fun to write, I love dad clones

“So you're dating my sister.”

“... yes General…”

“And you got her pregnant?”

Cody pauses, sucking in a deep breath through his nose as he nods, looking anywhere but at his general, and friend Obi-Wan.

“I see…” Obi-Wan trailed off, rubbing his beard before humming, placing a hand on Cody's shoulder. The clone looked up, almost shocked at the non angered touch.

“You love her?” He asked, and again Cody nodded. “Yes General… i- I love her.” He breathed out. It was such a relief to say.

He knew clones weren't really allowed to have lovers, but as soon as he met you, he knew you were the one.

You were a force to be reckoned with, the poor opposite of his General. You were snarky, serious and yet Cody thought you were the sweetest and most amazing woman he'd ever met. Granted he's only ever met a female jedi who doesn't really talk to him.

But you always talked to him.

He remembered when you told him about your conversation with Obi-wan, about a day prior to his confrontation with the man… boy was that vivid.

“Obi just listen for a second!” You shouted as you watched your brother pace back and forth. He was on a mission for a couple months, and hadn't really seen you minus your face, so when he came back to the temple and visited you, only to see that you were showing off a small but visible baby bump, and on top of that fact he found out it was Cody's?

Yeah he was mad.

“I came onto Cody! When you sent him here for some med supplies! We had kind of been flirting and I may have crossed the line between friendly flirting and seductive flirting and we- well- fucked-” you explained, grabbing your brothers shoulders as you grinned sheepishly.

“So we started dating in secret! I really like him so when you confront him and I know you will, don't kill him, please? He's the father of your nephew or niece!” You exclaimed.

Obi-wan sighed, shaking his head as he looked at you. “I just can't believe you'd be so reckless.” He huffed, and you rolled your eyes. “He put on a condom, but it broke and I found out the day we did it my implant expired.” You said honestly, but to you, it seemed to be fate.

Or the will of the force.

After hearing the circumstances Obi-Wan frowned, but nodded in understanding.

“Okay fine…. I won't kill him.”

-

You updated your brother and Cody on a lot of the stuff going on with your pregnancy. Unlike the Jedi you could actually have attachments as long as they knew it wasn't a clone. And you were pretty good and kept secrets.

The more pregnant you grew the more you started staying home, until it was actually time to give birth to your son.

You and Cody both agreed you wanted to wait to find out the gender after the baby was born, but unfortunately for Cody he was on a mission with your brother when your water broke and your labor started.

You did a home birth and had a doula. Not like you didn't trust the GAR doctors but you'd rather have someone human by your side instead of medical droids.

You had meant to call obi-wan, but your labor was painful, and long. But by the end of it you had a healthy baby boy, whom you had yet to name, you at least wanted to wait until Cody came back for that.

It had been a few days, getting used to the baby's schedule was… hard but you felt like you were starting to get the hang of it.

You were currently breastfeeding in the kitchen when you heard the lock turn at the front door. You smiled, and continued feeding, watching as Cody walked in, still wearing his armor which had been worn from countless battles.

But he smiled at you, and then noticed the baby in your arms. It took him a moment until he realized that it wasn't just some random kid sucking on your tit's… but it was his baby.

Cody's jaw dropped.

“You had- you had him without me?!”

You almost flinched at Cody’s tone if you hadn't learned to calm yourself when it came to the baby. You stood up, pulling the child off you for a moment as you pulled up your shirt, holding your son in your arms as you walked over to the clone. “Yes… I'm sorry baby. I tried to prolong it but my water broke fast and I was already in labor and in so much pain.” You whispered.

Cody frowned, he never understood the concept of labor, when he first found out you were pregnant he wondered. How? since he didn’t see the fetus in a tube. You had told him that nat- born babies are quite different, and grow inside of the woman.

“I’m sorry for shouting, I just can’t believe I missed it.” He sighed, leaning into your touch as you raised a hand to his cheek. “I mean if it's any consolation i got my doula to record a video, i had a feeling you might’ve wanted to see the process, even in my painhaze.” You chuckled sheepishly, before bringing Cody over to the living area.

“Armor off.” You ordered softly, and Cody complied, never tearing his eyes off the baby in your arms as he removed his armor. You gently held the baby out, adjusting his arms as need be. But soon Cody was cradling your son in his arms, in awe of the entire thing.

“I can’t believe this grew inside you for nine months…” he trailed off. He knew that nat-borns didn’t have the accelerated growing gene that made clones ready for battle within ten years, but none of that mattered to him.

Having his own genetics, well- his clone genetics, mixed with another's- your’s, it kind of segmented that he was just as human as you were. Cody smiled, warmly, pressing his lips to the top of the baby’s head.

You moved down to sit beside him, letting out a relieved sigh that you had a bit of a break. Cody looked over at you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled you closer. “You okay?” He asked, and you nodded, resting your shoulder on his shoulder.

“Yes… m’ just tired.” You whispered, the exhaustion of birth, and baby caring having finally caught up to you. But you couldn’t sleep, not until the baby was.

But as you looked over at your son, your jaw dropped seeing how he was already fast asleep in Cody's arms.

“This little bastard has been so fussy with me these past two days, and now the moment he's in your arms he's asleep?” You whispered, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout. Cody let out a soft chuckle. “Well, this little guy just needed daddy’s touch.” He joked, and you grinned. “I think i need some of that.” You snickered.

Cody gave you a look before standing up, and you followed suit before walking to the nursery. He helped pick the room and the colors but you and your brother did most of the building when he was off working missions with other battalions without Obi-Wan.

“It’s perfect.” He murmured to you, and you nodded with a grin, watching as Cody gently laid your son down in the crib you had built, laying the baby on his stomach rather than his back before placing the blanket over him.

When your son was still fast asleep Cody walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you as he placed gentle kisses all over your face. You let out soft giggles, rubbing his back as you embraced him.

“Have you named him?” Cody asked, but you shook his head. “No, I wanted to wait until you came home for that.” You whispered, walking out of the nursery, closing the door behind you as you walked to your’s and Cody’s shared bedroom.

“What were you thinking?” He asked, and you hummed, changing out from your dirty, slobbed on clothes into something a little more comfortable. “Well I was thinking of something that represents him. That… or you could name him.” You stated, laying down in bed as Cody also worked on getting undressed.

“Really? you want me to name him?” Cody asked, and you grinned, nodding your head. Cody stood there, thinking for a moment before his face lit up like it always did when he came up with a plan or an idea.

“What about… Koen?” He asked, and you tilted your head. “What does it mean?” You asked, getting out of bed as Cody gestured for you to join him in the shower. “It means hero… because I have a feeling he’s going to grow up to be one.” Cody said, helping you remove your clothes before bringing you into the shower.

The warm water cascaded down your back and you hummed in delight, nodding to Cody to confirm the name. “I love it, hun.” You muttered, stretching your arms upwards with a sigh.

Cody admired you, his hands sliding onto your hips, before trailing upwards. “They got bigger…” He trailed off, and you raised an eyebrow, looking down at your breasts. You snorted, nodding your head. “Yeah- cuz’ they’re full of milk for Koen.” You snickered, biting your lip as Cody raised his hands, and cupped your breasts within them.

“Gentle baby, they’re tender.” You warned, but didn’t push him away.

“I missed you so much…” He groaned, sliding his hands down as he pulled you against him, capturing your lips with his.

You smiled against him, sliding your hands up to his hair before moving your hand to his cheek, your finger tracing the scar by his eye. He hummed against you, pulling back moments later. “You mean everything to me Cyare, and now Koen does too… I promise I will protect you both.” He whispered.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around him while resting your head on his chest, hearing the steady thumping of his heart beat… and it brought you so much comfort.

“I know Cody… I know.”

➺

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[hypostatic-oath]

Hi there! How do you think a team composition of Raiden, Diluc/Yelan (depending on the day), Kaeya and Kazuha would work? Especially in SAGAU terms.

I headcannon that Ei once referred to Kaeya as "son of Khaenri'ah" and Diluc has been defensive ever since.

Forgive me if I get Yelan's characterization wrong - she's one of the few characters I don't have, the most I've seen of her was the story quest, the Chasm event with Itto and Yanfei, and that she apparently stole a coat Pantalone wanted to give to the Tsaritsa, which honestly would immediately put her in Diluc's good books.

That being said - for Diluc and Yelan, I think the switching would work out really well. I mean, they're both busy businesspeople with probably tightly packed schedules, so I reckon your usual antics might even start a close partnership between the two, even if only on a personal level, i.e. each updating the other on what was done during their turn as that day's chosen vessel, or asking the other to potentially cover for them on a day where they just really really couldn't make it. They'd be grateful for the on and off schedule, it gives them time.

Yelan and Kaeya look like they'd be the kind of fast friends that are friendly only on the surface, because they are both distrustful of each other since they're equally sneaky, but I see them growing accustomed to each other as you take them out together. Hydro and Cryo work well naturally, and I can see them having an easier time working in synergy the more they begin to understand one another. It's not openness - neither of them is going to share their innermost workings with someone like that - but it is a form of comraderie that they both end up being thankful for. I'd wager Yelan reminds Kaeya of Rosaria somewhat, and that on downtimes, the two have gone out for drinks and perhaps some gambling.

As for himself and Diluc, Kaeya finds himself even more thankful for the opportunity. The chance for their bond to truly heal from what happened on the day of Crepus's death had not yet surfaced. He knew Diluc still cared - but in a different, silent, far more distant way than before. Kaeya did miss having his brother have his back, and doing the same for him. The first months were difficult - packed with "This meams nothing" and "I am following the Overseer's will, that is all", with Diluc ditching the place as soon as you tabbed out. Kaeya's teasing feels sharp, Diluc is almost cold, and the two can bicker back and forth so often that one would forget they are not the only ones on the team. The teasing never truly goes away. Diluc never truly lowers his guard. But the moment anyone or anything gets in the way of one, the other will lend a hand almost on instinct.

Diluc justifies it as doing it for you. You placed them together, and you rely on both of them, and it is very clear that you like them both enough to place them on your main team. You surely don't want any of them hurt, right? They both use the same argument to justify not sparring - a suggestion brought up by the Shogun, who was genuinely trying to help. Of course it's not because deep down both of them want the best for one another - it is simply because you want the best for both of them. Of course.

But if that were the reason, why would Diluc place himself between his brother and the Archon every time since he heard that one casual remark? He didn't know what bothered him so much about it - it was accurate, wasn't it? Son of Khaenri'ah. There was a time, once, when Diluc would've called it preposterous - Kaeya was a son of Crepus, just like he was. Regardless of his birth parents, he'd been raised a Ragnvindr.

But... was that really true? Had it ever been?

Being placed on the same team as Kaeya, Diluc finds himself grappling with thoughts he had back when everything came to light. For the vast majority of his life, Kaeya had been, indeed, just as much a child of Khaenri'ah as Diluc was a child of Mondstadt. But a man's future is not defined by his past - instead, his present. Kaeya is as much of a sneaky bastard as Diluc is used to him being... but the more the two work together, the more he realises that Kaeya has become more of a Mondstadter than he himself is aware of. He may have been a child of Khaenri'ah once, but the man he's grown into is as much of his brother as he thought him to be as children.

He does not, however, say this out loud. Ever.

The Shogun has since stopped reffering to him as that - it very clearly makes both of them incredibly uncomfortable, and though it is nice to get a break from the bickering, she was not actually looking to offend anybody. So far she's taken to reffering to Kaeya by title instead, adressing him as Captain. She doesn't strike me as the type to jump directly to being on a first name basis with people, and would want to maintain that distance.

Her and Diluc interact very little - she much prefers the Yelan days now, if only due to the fact that she knows there's still some lingering tension from that little incident. I could see the two getting along somewhat well before, but the relationship definitely soured in that awkward quiet way that never leads to an actual confrontation. But then again, I can see this being a very, VERY tense team. Like seriously the only person here that has no beef at all is Yelan.

Because while the brothers' antics take the main stage - their bickering is dramatic and explosive and their jabs at each other end up taking the attention from othet issues, which is quite thr relief - there is also the strained feelings between Kazuha and the Shogun.

Oh yes.

You and the Traveler may have gotten through to the Archon, shown her the power of people's hopes and dreams, and helped repel the Vision Hunt Decree. Inazuma may now be open again, and the Nation of Electro may be slowly rebuilding itself and its foreign relations after the civil war. The Shogun had her redemption arc, and joined you as a Vessel, and so far she has been nothing but helpful and reliable on the field of combat.

But Kazuha's friend is not any less dead.

Kazuha himself says that he's thought about it, and that he holds no resentment towards the Shogun. His friend died in an honorable duel, and that's that. But not resenting someone doesn't automatically mean a close or good relationship, nor does it mean that what was done has been forgotten. Kazuha supposes he'll trust your judgement, and that the Shogun is there to help - but there's still that lingering fear, that cold sweat when he wakes up and that shiver running down his back, because the aftermath of a war is never easy, and though she's on their side now, what if one day she isn't. Were it not for the brothers' antics - and possibly Kaeya, let us be honest here, he's the one who talks - the team would be... very, very silent.

From either angle, your team is PACKED with tension, but hopefully they'll be able to slowly grow to rely on each other, and maybe mend what was broken along the way.

With a bit of luck they go out for drinks and dango. I think they deserve it.

[stupidlittlespirit]

im rlly rlly sorry to ask but dyk if you'll ever continue/update "Doctor, Doctor (Give me the news)"?

PLEASE feel free to ignore this ask if you dont wanna answer!! i completely understand and in NO way am i trying to rush at all! the curiosity is just getting to me

again im sososo sorry to ask and feel free to ignore this!!

I should start charging you guys for these asks. I'd be able to quit sex work and be a good Woman like the other anon wants me to be /j

Listen: I am not abandoning Doctor Doctor. I am two thirds of the way through the final chapter and am drafting for the third fic. I have every intention of continuing it. Don't panic, it's not going to be lost to the abyss or anything like that.

I know that the gap in chapter release probably seems huge because I usually update once a week or so. Perhaps that's on me for setting the schedule standard so high and making you guys expect quick updates.

If I'm absolutely frank with you (and I tell you this not to make you feel bad but to be honest and open with you) things are very difficult for me in real life at the moment.

Beyond being burnt out with writing generally, I am suffering some family (and pet) grief and have talked about my turbulent relationship with them in general, which in turn makes this all very difficult. I have to visit home soon and that's not going to be fun.

I have ongoing health issues, and my mental health has tanked quite badly in the past few months. I've been coming off of anti-psychotics and that went wrong, which caused me a lot of other issues, and also my mental health is very fragile anyway so it's difficult at the best of times. I had a nervous breakdown a few weeks ago and am still delicate from it. I have BPD, which if you're familiar with it, is not very nice. I'm in very intense therapy for it and that takes a lot out of me each week. I'm very tired.

I'm also in a difficult relationship that is very likely going to end because I came out as asexual. I have been having to come to terms with my sexuality, the inevitable end of this relationship that I value, and deal with the fall out of it, with someone who is not always very nice to me.

Things are stressful and tiring and very overwhelming for me. I am still chipping away at the chapter, but it's just taking extra time to get done because I lack the energy I had at the start. But it's just an energy thing; the passion is still there!

Again, not telling you this to make you feel bad or tell you off, I just want to be honest with you so you know that I'm truly not giving up on the fic. I just have a lot on. I have waaaaaay too many ideas and love for Ford to just walk away from my fics and I really love talking with you guys about them all, so don't worry :) It's coming, I promise.