#let me know if you wanna change anything ^^

[writerpeach]

Provocation

ITZY Shin Yuna x m!reader

15k words

“That’s not true,” Yuna argues, arms folded as if this is the most ludicrous thing she's had to explain. "Despite what everyone thinks, I don't sleep around. Maybe a few guys on the weekends, but during the week? I like to have a one-guy policy."

You don't believe her one bit—but you'll play along. "Just one guy? That's it?"

Yuna shrugs her shoulders. "Of course. One guy at a time. One guy on Monday—maybe Tuesday. And Wednesday. That's it."

"That's three, Yuna," you laugh, shifting in your seat to face her a bit more. She takes a sip of her drink, stirring it around before bringing it back up to her pouty, red lips—the ones that cause nothing but trouble.

"Exactly. A different guy each day of the week. I don't think that's a lot. If anything, Yeji gets around way more than me."

Now you know she's lying.

The way you can tell is when her lips move. That's the telltale sign. When a word slips out between them, you always know the words will be objectively false. 

Because this is Shin Yuna, the girl who flaunts every facet of her beauty like it's her job. This is the girl who wears skirts short enough to flash the entire bar a glimpse of her perfect little ass. The one who always leaves the house wearing a bra on purpose, her top always sheer enough to show the shape of her perky breasts. The same girl who would give head to a random guy just because he asked for a stick of gum.

"Yeji? Are we talking about the same girl?" you question, doubting that girl would even have a quarter the sex that Yuna has in one night. Yeji's definitely attractive, but reserved and soft spoken—nothing like the track record Yuna has.

"Hey, don't get it twisted," Yuna protests, nearly spilling some drink when she sets her glass down. "Yeji isn't some innocent church girl. She's a lot hornier than people think. Almost too much. As much as she acts all pure and sweet and innocent, she's a freak."

You'd say you believe her, except it's Yuna—so it's not probable in the slightest. "Right. She's totally a freak and you're an absolute saint."

"Glad we're on the same page." Yuna grins, stealing your drink to take a sip without even asking, leaving those red lips staining the rim of the glass. "She's more insatiable than me."

"I think you've had a little too much to drink, Yuna.” 

Yuna ignores you entirely. "I mean it—that girl is probably getting dicked down as we speak. Or if she isn't, then she's got a new vibrator that's getting the job done, watching some of the most depraved porn out there. That girl is obsessed."

"Obsessed with dick or obsessed with porn?"

"Both. You can't imagine some of the toys she has hidden."

Yuna keeps speaking, but she could say anything at this point, and you know there wouldn’t be an ounce of truth in it. She's gotten more than a couple drinks deep now. And her tight skirt rides up, each not-so-subtle movement revealing more thigh as she shifts, not even the slightest concerned who can see underneath.

"If she's a freak, what the hell does that make you, then?" you ask in all earnest, trying to change the subject, because Yuna clearly can't be trusted around alcohol. This girl and oversharing go together far too well.

"Me? Oh, I'm the best fuck of your life—the one who will choke on your cock like a goddamn whore and let you blow your load all over my pretty face." 

You don’t even look at her when you reply. "Forget I ever asked." 

"But you did ask. And now you're going to take me home so I can demonstrate exactly what I do to those poor, pathetic boys every weekend."

"Absolutely not. I don't recall making an invitation."

"Do I need one? Doesn't feel like it," Yuna asks, with a quick tilt of her head. "Doesn't daddy wanna spend all night fucking this tight little pussy?"

You nearly vomit hearing Yuna's poor attempt at seduction. "Stop it. Please, for the love of god, don't ever call me that again."

She simply laughs it off, leaning close as she rests a hand on your thigh, those nimble little fingers giving a good squeeze, when it wanders just a little too high. 

"Come on," she insists. "The second you’ve got your cock inside me, you know there won't be any pulling out. Daddy won't be able to control himself."

"I'm leaving you here. Take a cab if you have to," you warn, standing up from the barstool without even the slightest look back in her direction.

Yuna sighs. “Okay, fine,” she says as she grabs your wrist, keeping you from going very far. "I won't call you that anymore. Just take me home and fuck my brains out. Please?"

That voice, the desperation, it's hard to resist. Not to mention the pleading look, those big, round eyes staring, and when your focus falls down her shirt, barely even a shirt, the curves on this girl she dares to flaunt in your face. Yuna wants you to know that you'd be a fool to turn her down.

"What's in it for me? Aren't there plenty of guys lining up for a chance to fuck you here?" 

"This place is boring—and none of them can handle me." 

You're not even sure you can handle this girl and her attitude, but when Yuna stares like that, this longing look that begs for attention—it's difficult to say no. "Are you saying that just because you want a ride home?"

"It's a reason, yes." She can't hold back the smile, no matter how hard she tries. "You take me home, and then I'll suck your cock until your legs give out. Won't you help this poor, helpless little slut?"

Against your better judgment, there’s this temptation you can’t ignore. A devil resting on your shoulder, and on the other side, also a devil in the form of Shin Yuna herself. You can’t refuse that smile, those batting eyelashes, or those eyes without a hint of innocence in them. You’re already a lost cause. 

Yuna can’t help but smirk, seeing her prey lured in with such ease as she grabs her coat, one hand slipping in yours, and not even needing a response when the both of you know where this is heading. "No more daddy—that's a promise."

You don’t believe that for a second, but you also don't care one bit as you head out, Yuna clinging to your arm on the way to the parking lot. 

And this might be your biggest mistake yet. 

Neither of you even make it out of the parking garage to your apartment. Yuna has you backed up against the cold, concrete wall, in a dark corner that she swears doesn't have a camera—but even if it does, who fucking cares when the sight of her on her knees takes precedence, getting your cock wet between her lips as fast as possible.

And the sound of her greedy slurps echo off those same walls, somehow a thousand times louder than usual. 

"You know my apartment is right up there," you manage to say in between gasping breaths. Yuna's barely listening, staring straight into your eyes, with her cheeks hollowed to no end and every inch of your cock taken down so easily. She spits over your length a few more times, spreading it along your hard shaft before her lips swallow you whole, not breaking her gaze once for even a single breath. 

With another loud, sloppy suck with those red lips around the tip of your shaft, that's the only time she answers, a small pop filling the air when she backs off, stroking you slowly with her fist.

"That's two floors up. Why wait, when I can just suck your cock here? That elevator takes ages." she argues innocently, running her tongue underneath that most sensitive area of your shaft. "Unless you really want me to stop—"

"N-no. Fuck, no. Don't you fucking dare." 

"That's what I thought,” Yuna replies, and she has no intention to, burying her nose in your abdomen with every last inch consumed by her warm throat. And her wet mouth gets so noisy, so starved, these desperate slurps that could probably be heard all the way to the top floor of the parking garage. 

It's so completely Yuna: her lack of restraint, the enthusiasm as she bobs her head in a blur without any sign of a gag reflex. The way her lips tighten around your shaft and stay there for an eternity without pulling off even for a second, like she needs your cock down her throat for survival. It’s goddamn relentless. 

“God, Yuna, this fucking mouth—" you curse under your breath and place a hand on her head for guidance, wondering how the fuck Yuna manages to take so much at once while looking so beautiful at the same time. It's her lips wrapped around every inch, the way she stares into you, her lipstick all smeared along the base of your shaft with a fresh layer of spit glistening along the length of it. "Why the hell is your mouth so good at this?” 

It's a compliment that's only going to feed that inflated ego, as if that's even possible at this point. But you can't hold back the praise, when her lips feel this incredible, wrapped so tight with all the warm, wet suction you can handle, taking you back into the deep end of her throat like nothing. 

"I’ve told you…” Yuna starts with this smug little grin as she draws out every reaction she can out of your features with a messy kiss to your swollen cockhead. "Suck enough dick, and you have it down to a science. Nobody gives head better than me. Not Yeji, not a single person you've met."

Can’t say you find any fault with that, for once. The rare occasion when Yuna speaks the truth, with how good her mouth feels on you, slurping away to get these groans spilling that reinforces her point. How could anybody come close? 

“Don’t let it get to your head.” 

“Too late,” she says, with her playful little chuckle when you escape from the heat of her mouth. She continues to pump her fingers along every spit-soaked inch that sets you on edge, slowing down only so she can drag it out, savor the look of desperation etched across your face. Then she’s right back down, lips flush to your base in no time. 

“Shit, those fucking lips feel so good. Who knew you had any other skill other than being an obnoxious fucking brat.” 

Yuna doesn't even fight you for that one, giving your length a sloppy kiss, before sliding her mouth down to latch around your balls and suck hard. A tight fist strokes quicker than before, twisting so perfectly while her mouth is occupied, a motion that makes you completely unable to hold back the strangled noises that she gets off on. 

It all feels too good, with her full attention devoted to your aching cock that throbs in her fingers, these lewd slurps of your sensitive balls that drive you towards the edge faster when her mouth gets all hot and wet around you.

“F-fuck, fuck, Yuna—“ 

It’s so clear, the sheer enjoyment written across Yuna's features when she pops off your balls with a loud, wet pop. and then gets your cock right back in her mouth where it belongs.

There’s no stopping her this time—not when she gets a good grip on your thighs for support, so she can slobber on your cock with reckless abandon. A fucking shameless display, saliva dripping down her chin, a messy string that connects from her lip to the tip of your swollen cockhead while she takes you straight into the back of her throat, again, and again, not taking a breath unless she absolutely needs to. 

And then she’s jerking your cock right in front of her face. 

“Almost ready to cum for me, aren’t you? Don't you wanna fucking finish all over my pretty face? Don't you like how nice it looks when I'm covered in your thick load?"

Fuck, do you ever—and it doesn't help when Yuna tightens her grip and gives these rapid strokes that have your head spinning. All you can do is watch as she furiously jerks your cock straight towards her gorgeous face, tongue out so eagerly as she awaits every bit you're ready to release.

When it hits, the first explosive burst shoots across her forehead, streaking right over her hair. The rest follows, finding a place splattering all across her face. All over those open pouty lips—hot, sticky spurts that Yuna catches with her tongue as each shot paints a different spot of her features, the excess dribbling down her chin. 

Yuna laughs through it, trying not to close her eyes so she can watch you unload all over her features, a mess that has no end in sight. More hits her cheek, a nice shot across her nose as your cock pulsates in her tight fist, and the hot spurts continue to paint her in white streaks across her flawless face. A final few bursts land across her open mouth, a taste that gets her smiling so wide through a cum-stained mess.

"Fucking christ, Yuna," you exhale, out of breath as the high lingers.

Yuna lets your throbbing cock rest gently against her cheek, your orgasm slow to subside. Even when every last drop is wrung from the tip, she refuses to take her mouth off you, sucking your shaft clean with a few long slurps and flicks of her tongue that make you nearly collapse. 

"Just look at all that fucking cum. I'm covered in it, like a good little slut should be," she marvels, staring at the exhaustion plastered across your face. "Bet that felt good, huh? God, there's like a week's worth of cum here. All milked out of your thick fucking cock."

And Yuna has never looked better. 

"H-hold on, I'll get something to clean that up—"

Yuna gets to her feet, stepping in to shut down the idea before you can finish. "No need. I'll keep it on until we get to your apartment. Plus, I look the prettiest when I'm dripping with your cum."

It's insane—the words this girl will casually throw out in public, and how she wants to spend the entire elevator ride looking like that. Even if it's late enough that hardly anybody uses this elevator, there's always a chance you could run into someone who lives here. But saying no to this girl was never an option, already heading back the direction of the elevator without giving much a chance to argue, much less a chance to slip your pants back on.

Shin Yuna is quite possibly the worst influence—and yet, here you are.

Once she's all cleaned up, it's just pure unadulterated lust, from both ends as you find a spot on the couch to crash into with Yuna straddling you. Not an ounce of innocence in the kiss. Nothing but hot breath and moans, not even a second to break for air. The alcohol, the ride back here, the blowjob in the goddamn parking garage, you can't even contain yourself anymore. You let this girl get to you in the best of ways and give into this sinful temptation with an absolute desire to ruin her.

Yuna groans as you plant these rough, messy kisses along her neck—god, she tastes so good, like strawberries and sin and everything you're addicted to. She writhes under you, fingers tangled through your hair and you're not leaving your lips off her for a single second. 

"Keep doing that, please, f-fuck," Yuna pleads, and you flip her around effortlessly to do so, her tight little body flat on her back underneath you. You leave these marks all down her neck—sucking hard on that sensitive skin so easy to bruise, and sinking your teeth in at every opportunity. All these whimpers fill your ears and the louder they are, the harder you bite, the rougher your kisses grow.

This relentless assault leaves her breathless, an abrupt change from the usual confidence and arrogance that defines her. Right here, under you like this, Yuna makes it so easy to have her body entirely at your mercy—even more when you strip her shirt off and toss it aside, revealing those breasts fully to the chilly air. You barely have time to admire the sight of them before your mouth moves to devour the newly exposed flesh.

"You have no idea all the things I want to do to you, Yuna," you growl as you take a nipple between your lips, a sharp suck and a light nibble that makes her squirm even harder against the couch cushions.

"Like what? Tell me everything you want to do to me, d-daddy—"

You glare up, eyeing her intently and there's this sudden moment of silence while you refuse to get your mouth back onto her tits. 

"S-sorry, it just slipped," she says with this unabashed laughter, her apology as believable as anything else that escapes from those pretty lips. "Every guy I fuck loves hearing that. Force of habit."

"Don't make me leave you on this couch alone, Shin Yuna. Because I'll fucking do it, no hesitation."

"You'll never hear it again, I promise. Never, ever—now come on, back to what you were doing."

You raise a suspicious brow for a moment, but then it's back to your ravenous mouth focusing all over her chest, kissing up all over when you alternate between them. She loves it too—every hot and heavy kiss, every time you lick right at her most sensitive spots, latching onto her stiff nipples and sucking so hard. Yuna grips tightly at the back of your head, her fingers deep in those locks while you devour her tits and enjoy the softness of them against your face, skin flushed when you switch to the other breast.

And god, this sound that escapes her throat—when you travel down her body and kiss her abdomen, these soft little kisses that make her sigh harder and squirm more, getting lower and lower until the fabric of her skirt blocks your progression. It's this whimper from her lips when you swipe your tongue right above her belly button, a slow drag that tastes as much of her as possible.

"Skirt on or off? Your pick." You kiss at the top of her thighs, waiting eagerly for an answer as you toy around with the zipper.

"Whatever d—" she stops herself halfway. "You want. Whatever you want. On. Just fuck me with it on—can't wait, need you between my thighs already."

Can't say you're disappointed in the decision—pushing her skirt up her thighs to reveal that pretty purple lace that contrasts her pale thighs. But before you have the chance to put her out of her misery, you get a little more comfortable, stripping down to nothing but your boxers while Yuna bites her bottom lip and watches in silence. She keeps staring, wide eyes filled with anticipation as she catches the slightest glimpse of the way you're hard for her already.

"See something you like?" you ask her, Yuna shifting underneath with her skirt neatly bunched up her waist. 

"No, not a single thing," she answers, unable to hide her laughter for a second.

"Good, then I guess I can just go jerk off in my room or something," you tease, about to remove yourself from the couch until her hands lock tight around your shoulders, keeping you planted there.

"Shut the fuck up and eat me out. Can't wait a second more, ruin me with that amazing tongue of yours."

"Not even a please?"

"Absolutely not," Yuna insists, growing more impatient by the second. But it's a good thing you're generous—and more than raring to get between her thighs as much as she needs you to. 

She can hardly contain the noise when you grab the waistband of her panties and drag them down those long legs, Yuna lifting up just slightly to help guide them off. And when they slide past her feet, you don't hesitate one bit, spreading her thighs apart just to admire the sight—exposing her glistening wet cunt in all its glory.

"See something you like?" Yuna echoes your own question right back, flashing a smirk which only fades when you respond with a brief flick of your tongue. 

"Yeah, a perfect place to dump a huge load of cum," you remark back, licking a long stripe up her wet slit before ending in a gentle suck of her clit. "God, you're so fucking wet, Yuna. Dripping like crazy down here."

"Who's fucking fault is that?" 

"Not mine. You're the one who begged me to take you home because you were too scared to find a stranger in the bar to fuck."

The first few long licks do the rest of the talking for you as you bury your head deep between her spread thighs, tongue exploring her deliciously wet pussy. So sweet on your lips the more you taste, a suck of her clit every now and again, these unimpeded moans that can’t help spring free from her lips. 

"F-fuck, oh my fucking—first off, I did not beg. Second, don't pretend like you wouldn't fuck me if I found someone better," Yuna manages to get out mid-way through an absolutely filthy groan, grabbing fistfuls of your hair to push your face against her pussy.

"You're saying you could find someone better than me? In that shitty little dive bar?"

"S-shut up. Your ego's fucking broken," she argues between her desperate moans. You roll your eyes at her and get back to work—watching the way Yuna attempts to cover up her mouth with the palm of her hand. 

"Is that why you're struggling so much not to moan for me? You think any of those drunk idiots at the bar could do what I do to this pretty little pussy?" You're so determined to see her at a loss for words, lapping away at her clit, but that's all this girl brings out of you. It's difficult to play the nice guy when all her lips do is incite a response out of you like this. 

"You talk t-too much. Shut up and eat my cunt, so I can cum on your face already."

That you can do—more than happily. With a hand against her abdomen, Yuna's being pinned to the cushions as your tongue lashes away at her delicious folds to really lap up all her sweetness. It's addictive, the way you suck and lick away, from her swollen clit, right down to the bottom of her glistening wet slit, this intense groan tearing right through her as she locks eyes to watch you devour her cunt.

"Forgot how fucking good you taste—god, you taste fucking amazing.” 

“You forgot? Nobody forgets how good I taste. Not when you're addicted to eating my pussy as much as you are—"

That's a ridiculous enough statement to ignore, but you also can't bear the idea of stopping what you're doing, with your tongue exploring in slow, steady laps of every delicious morsel. Not when the sweet taste of Yuna fills your mouth and threatens to drown out everything else you feel, because she's so damn wet. It's the way your head is trapped between her thighs, keeping you right where she wants, smothering your face with her dripping cunt and forcing your tongue as deep as it can possibly reach. 

"Fucking shit—your mouth, that's so good, god. Fuck, fuck, y-you're gonna make me fucking cum! Don't stop—"

Like you could ever. Not when you have Yuna writhing against the cushions, watching the way her features contort into absolute bliss with just a harsh suck of her clit. 

Her mouth hangs open, head thrown back and the lewd, whiny little moans that you're so familiar with come right out. There's a rhythm of breathing that follows—heavy and erratic the more you try to break this girl. She struggles to even control herself when all she's reduced to is a soaking mess in front of your eyes, grinding against your face, needing to cum more than her next breath.

And that's the perfect opportunity to deny her what she wants so desperately. A split-second pause, watching the lust transform into absolute desperation. 

"N-no, please," she protests, urgency in her voice the second she feels your tongue stop. 

"Something wrong?"

"You ass—don't fucking stop. I said not to stop!" 

That's enough incentive to get back to it, fingers plunging right inside that wet heat to give your mouth a much-needed rest. Which only gives you these drawn-out moans, and fuck—there's not a single thing tighter than Yuna. Two fingers sink in with such ease, so wet, so warm, just taking whatever you'll give her at this rate. Nice and slow at first, so you can admire her reaction as you curl them inside, reaching spots that make her back arch right off the couch. 

"P-please, I'm so fucking close, fuck—"

Now she's begging, needing release at a level that's quite rare to see from Yuna. You pick up the pace, plunging those digits deep inside her sopping wet walls, hitting that same spot that makes her hips jolt so violently. 

"Is this what you needed? Come on, I know you're right fucking there. Fucking cum, Yuna. Cum like the needy little slut you are." 

You're not sure if it's the words that do her in, or the merciless assault of your fingers—both together is what gets the job done, the constant wet squelch that echoes with every furious plunge deep into her slick warmth. It's unmistakable when her cunt gushes around your thrusting fingers—spraying all over your hand, the couch, and god knows what else is just destroyed at this point. 

Yuna turns into a relentless, gushing mess, until she grabs your wrist to keep those fingers moving, filling the air with an even more delicious series of sobs.

Beautiful doesn’t begin to describe it when her body spasms the more you pump into this sensitive little cunt. Your fingers are so drenched, with the juices that spill like a fountain, these choked moans that escape with every thrust. And when that begging for more turns into pleading to stop, you're not interested in withdrawal, not until you wring a second orgasm out, a third, however many it takes for her to finally tap out. 

"S-stop, you're gonna fucking kill me, stop—god, it's just too much," she cries out, every ounce of strength left in her failing. Only do you pull out when Yuna forces your arm away, thighs still quivering in the aftermath as you get a good look of the damage done. Flat on her back, she can hardly move on her own. A mess all along her creamy thighs, along the couch, and who knows where else. 

"My poor couch."

"Your poor couch? What about my poor fucking pussy? Look at what you fucking did, I came like five fucking times—"

Even in the aftermath of an intense, messy climax, Yuna can’t help being Yuna.

"I didn't hear any complaints when you were squirting all over me,” you say, and bring your wet fingers to your lips to suck the delicious taste off. 

"Because your fucking fingers felt so fucking good, you asshole—" Yuna's so worn out, completely unable to do anything but just revel in the mess she's made.  

"You're welcome."

"That wasn't a thank you—oh my fucking god, look at my skirt, you fuck," Yuna groans, eyes shifting to the state bunched up above her waist. 

"This is your fault, don't even start."

"Because you fucking made me ruin it, this is like a $300 skirt!"

"My condolences," you say, without a hint of guilt, the damage to her skirt not even the least of your concerns. Especially when you unzip it to slide it right down her slim figure—revealing every inch of her gorgeous body naked for you to drink in. "Excuse me, princess. However can I make it up to you?"

"Don't fucking call me that," she snaps, and even in her weakened state she's not any easier to deal with. "I'm too tired to ride you right now, so you're just going to have to fuck me until my legs don't work." 

"Still not hearing a please," you remind her, slipping out of your boxers at last, your stiff cock finally freed after seeing Yuna's naked frame laid out so perfectly.

"You can take your please and shove it right up your fucking ass. I'm not saying it."

"Fucking brat," you curse, grabbing her waist to position Yuna right where you want her. "I'll do all the damn work then—you're not going anywhere but into this couch."

"Good, about fucking time."

When she's finally done complaining, her gaze falls back to your rock hard cock aimed at her soaking entrance. You shift forward, a hand on her slender waist for support, the head of your shaft nudging her wet cunt.

"Come on then, I haven't got all night—are you gonna fuck me, or just stare?"

"Yes you do. What the fuck else are you gonna do? Go fuck somebody else you won't even remember the next morning?" Angling yourself just right, you don’t waste a second longer to slide inside, right up to the hilt—feeling that tight, heavenly cunt consume every inch.

"My fucking god, Yuna—"

She's never felt more incredible, or so goddamn tight, impossibly wet, warm—every sensation just overwhelming, getting used to it all over like it's the first time inside her. A feeling that doesn't disappear, even before you move one bit, with these beautiful legs spread wide apart as they'll go.

"Forgot how tight my little pussy was, huh?" she taunts, loving the groans that it pulls from your mouth. "You haven't changed at all. Still have that same cute little face you get when you've got your cock inside me. My pussy just ruins every other girl for you, doesn't it?"

"Too tight, god—why are you so fucking tight? Greedy slut gets pounded by twelve guys a week and still this tight? Fuck—"

"Less talking and more fucking. Move your hips—fuck me like the filthy little whore I am, come on."

Your only response is to get your hands right on both sides of Yuna's tiny waist, sliding outside with just the tip of your cock remaining, before slamming your entire shaft to fill her again. The first thrusts alone have her clutching the couch cushions to brace for more, each one a little rougher, a little deeper, the walls of her cunt clenching so hard the more of your throbbing shaft fills her. 

"Don’t hold back. I wanna feel every inch of that thick fucking cock in my wet little cunt," Yuna breathes out with this demand in her voice. "Come on, harder—ruin my poor little pussy, f-fuck."

"That's the fucking plan." All this tension you've built up between each other has reached its boiling point, the frustration, the annoyance, all coming out here and now. Because once Yuna is under you like this, everything changes, your hips pulling back only to shove in again, a relentless rhythm on repeat. 

"Better be. Why do you even need other girls when my perfect little pussy is always here waiting for your cock? You already have a pretty fucktoy to use, don't you—"

"Yuna, stop fucking talking already," you groan with no patience for anymore of her rambling. "Your schedule is a little booked up right now, in case you haven't noticed."

That's when your thrusts hit without holding back, hard enough to get a reprieve from that bratty attitude—watching her pretty features contort as you keep drilling inside that intoxicating heat. Not letting up once, the sound of her slick pussy soaking every inch of your shaft with every slam fills the room, barely audible over the sound of her loud moans. And that tightness, god—it’s unfathomable, unforgettable, each delicious clench driving your hips so you’ll feel more of it. 

"Then I'll fucking clear my schedule. As long as you promise to fuck me like this—I'll put you in my calendar every fucking day."

That's not exactly the solution, and you can't imagine being with Yuna day in and day out, even if that comes with the prospect of having access to this pretty, warm little wet hole whenever you feel like. No, not worth the hassle—maybe for a weekend, but beyond that you'd go insane.

"Once a week is enough. Maybe twice if you can keep your fucking attitude in check."

"You love my attitude. Just like the rest of this body that you can't keep your hands off."

She has a point—a painfully accurate one, but not one that you're willing to admit when you keep trying to silence Yuna with these violent slams that have your balls ready to unload sooner rather than later. Her tight cunt drives you absolutely wild, almost distracting enough from that infuriating mouth of hers.

But even more distracting is the look in her face while you fuck her, and you can't resist staring with every thrust as she continues to keep those legs parted just for you. That's until they wrap tightly around your waist, the heels of her bare feet digging into your lower back, forcing you deeper into this perfect tight body.

"What the fuck are you—"

Yuna's light giggle interrupts your question, the look in her eyes almost enough of an answer on its own. "Just making sure you're not thinking about pulling out. Want every drop you have. Fucking dump it in me."

"God, will you shut up," you groan, face burying into the crook of Yuna's neck, unable to take another second of her mouth running while your hips keep up this unforgiving pace. This tightness, this wetness, it's more than you can handle, using her cunt to fuck every bit of annoyance building inside from what feels like forever. 

"I'll shut up when you cum inside me. It's been way too fucking long since you finished inside me, since I've heard you moan when your balls empty. Does every girl you fuck let you finish like this? Bet none of them do."

You're not even interested in playing this game with her, not when she has you so close already, your pistoning hips driven by such immense desire to flood Yuna's dripping cunt. She's even clenching harder than usual with those slim legs locked so tight, a grip you can't possibly slip from no matter how much you tried. Not that you even would. 

Thrust after merciless thrust, you keep your lips sealed to her neck, sucking so hard like it's the only thing to keep you anchored. All you can do is keep moaning in her ear, keep hammering her greedy little cunt, faster and faster—

"I'm about to fucking cum, Y-Yuna—"

The words leave your mouth right before you've reached your limit. Your mind's elsewhere, not even in control, as your balls tighten and every muscle in your body tenses. Not even a word on her end, like Yuna was waiting for this moment the entire night. There's just hot breath on her neck, your cock pounding so hard into this soaked pussy, every pump taking you further past the point of no return—until that first surge shoots deep inside her wet walls.

A hot, sticky load floods right into her pussy in a violent throb of bursts, pumping one spurt after the other deep as possible. Yuna wraps her legs tighter with each, keeping you buried completely while everything unloads inside her. Everything goes blank, losing track of how many shots fill her tight cunt, a complete blur while your hips move on repeat, fucking it all deeper into her slick warmth. 

"F-fuck, there's so much," Yuna groans, struggling to find the words, feeling every ounce of your hot load spill inside, threatening to overflow before you even finish.

You just continue to drive into her without mercy, until your body begins to give out, sweat dripping all along her pale frame underneath. By the time you're done, you’ve collapsed into the comfort of Yuna's neck, planting gentle kisses along the marks you've left behind while you ride out the high. She stays quiet for a moment—no taunting, no attitude, letting your still throbbing cock rest inside her with your thick load slowly seeping out.

It's the most deserved orgasm you've had in a while, you think. Putting up with Yuna—just to unload everything you have inside, where it belongs. All her annoying remarks, that shameless, filthy fucking mouth all seem to fade into obscurity after everything. For a few seconds, there's bliss. A quiet bliss. 

Bliss that doesn't last very long at all. 

"Did that feel good? Emptying your big, heavy balls inside me?" Yuna asks you, resting her long arms around your body. It's almost calming, the light scratches down your back that lull you into a state of relaxation. Something you didn't think was possible with this girl.

"Y-yeah," you breathe out against her neck, struggling to catch your breath as you linger in the warmth of her tight pussy that can’t stop clenching for more. "I came inside you, now get off me—"

"Never, you're still fucking hard. My legs still work, and I haven't even gotten to ride you yet," she reminds you, staring straight into your eyes with her legs staying perfectly in place. "That load was just an appetizer—daddy." 

You groan—louder than ever before, but not in pleasure.

"What the fuck did I tell you about calling me that?"

Yuna shifts beneath, legs relaxing enough to release the hold—allowing you to slide your cock free from the overwhelming heat.

"What's the matter, a nice, thick creampie in my tight cunt isn't enough for me to call you whatever I please?"

You're ignoring her, in as many ways as you can when you move your gaze between her thighs to admire the sight—the beautiful mess that's dripping from her pussy, so full of your hot cum. "Go home, Yuna. If that's what's you're going to keep doing, then we're fucking done here." 

"You're no fun. It's after midnight, you're not going to send a little innocent girl like me out alone like this, are you?"

Again, you ignore her, standing up from the couch in complete disarray and making a path to the bathroom instead. "I need a shower, but you can sleep on this couch you've defiled for all I care. Please be gone in the morning."

It's a bit heartless, you know, but Yuna brings out this part in you that rarely sees the light of day, when she refuses to listen. Even more so when her footsteps follow closely behind, her petite naked frame and that mess between her legs still dripping without any ounce of shame.

"God, you're such a mood killer," Yuna sighs, grabbing your wrist to pull your attention her way. "I'll stop fucking teasing you. I'll stop calling you daddy, you big fucking baby. Just let me shower with you. Please? I won't even talk. I promise."

That's a hard one to trust, given her track record. But she sounds far too exhausted to even try any tricks, pleading so hard to convince you to let her share your bed tonight. And it's hard to turn down that pout, those bright, widened eyes that stare you into submission.

"Fine. Not a single word in the shower. And if you call me that even once, Yuna, I'm never shoving my cock in you ever again. Do you understand?"

"Of course. Swear it on my life. Promise. Never ever ever—that's it."

And just like that, this look in her eyes when she steps inside the shower after you suggests she'll live up to that word. You'll see. If anything, seeing her naked under the hot steam is enough to commit to whatever terms you've created. A selfish, yet regrettable decision.

A nice, relaxing shower where this brat doesn't utter a single sound, not a single dirty comment—that's better than anything in your wildest dreams.

Things move to the bedroom, as they usually do with Yuna. The two of you are completely devoid of any clothing, because modesty with her around simply doesn't exist. She slides into the spot beside you, resting her head on your chest, delicate fingers in a relaxed grip around the length of your shaft. And you’re happy to do nothing but watch the smile on her face while she gives these magical strokes, not nearly enough pleasure to take things any further. 

"Whenever you're ready to put this big thing back inside me, let me know," Yuna says as casually as possible—as casual as someone can get while palming their hand around your cock.

But you're hesitant to leave this moment—her body curled so perfectly against yours, to the point where you can almost tolerate her. Almost. That being the important thing in all this.

"I already filled you twice today. Not enough for one night?"

"Never enough," she insists, giving a firm squeeze that makes you reluctantly agree. "Plus, you haven't filled my ass, and we both know what a huge fan I am of that.” 

"Obsessed is more the right word. You might be more into me fucking your ass than I am, and that's saying something. Like, I could live inside there."

She giggles, her delicate little fingers tracing down your shaft while she keeps stroking. "Can you blame me when I have an ass like this? You should be the one begging me instead of the other way around." 

"I'd never beg you for anything, Yuna. You're a pretty girl with a nice ass who spreads their legs on command, I don't need much more than that from you."

Yuna responds with a tug at your balls, almost painful in nature to get a point across. "Tell me that again when you want to bury your face in my ass. See if that's true then. Let's see how long you last without getting to eat my ass."

"Okay, okay—point taken."

"Not everybody gets to tongue my ass. It's a privilege."

"So lucky, my life is complete now that Shin Yuna allows me the honor of worshiping her ass." 

That makes her squeeze your cock all too hard in this agonizingly slow stroke. "My ass is fucking amazing. The only word for it, and it deserves some appreciation. I don't even let anyone else but you fuck me there."

"Why do I not believe that?"

Yuna drops a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your chest. "You don't have to believe it. I'll let half a dozen guys all have turns fucking me at once—until they cum inside me or on my face. Nobody but you gets the luxury of pounding my ass though."

“I’m touched.” 

"You should be. Every guy I fuck should be on their knees, begging me for the slightest chance to worship my body, especially my ass." 

Nobody has confidence like Yuna does, even if it's wildly inflated. As much as her very presence annoys you, it’s hard to say you could survive long without that tight ass. Whether it’s bouncing on your cock, your face, or just existing in front of your hips to have a handprint against it. That doesn't mean you'd ever drop to your knees and grovel for her, but there's no denying how much power that ass has.

"Nobody has a better ass than you, Yuna. Not even Yeji. There. Is that what you wanted to hear?" She laughs—this sinister laugh, while squeezing your cock in her tight little hand, nodding all excitedly in agreement. You know it's going to go to her head, but the alternative is much worse. "Good, now can you just jerk me off in peace?"

“Fine,” she says, with a defeated sigh. “If that's what you want. I won't make another sound. You can just relax. Pretend I'm not here. I'll just keep jerking off this nice, thick cock until you cum again." 

"Now you're getting it."

You close your eyes and appreciate the silence, knowing this might be the only time when Yuna doesn't find some excuse to run her mouth. Her hands keep busy, and god, are her hands just heaven when she's so slow and focused. The one time she doesn't say a fucking word, just pumping your cock until you're ready to explode all over her.

You don't even remember falling asleep. The last thing you remember is Yuna straddling you, riding with all the energy in the world despite her earlier exhaustion. Hair draped over her face as she bounced up and down, hips so frantic and needy, groaning while you slipped a finger to toy with her ass. And then it's all a blur. Sweet, uninterrupted slumber, and that's how you ended up like this.

But now, Yuna isn't anywhere to be seen. And you're not sure if that's a good thing or not. So, rather reluctantly, you rise from the comfort of your bed, grab a fresh pair of boxers, a clean shirt, and stumble right into the kitchen for some semblance of routine. 

The smell of coffee lingers in the air, a normally welcome start to the day. This time it's different—it's burnt. Far from the rich aroma of a good cup, the one you've brewed on your expensive coffee machine you imported just months ago. Something's amiss.

There's the culprit. Yuna is standing there, fiddling around with the machine like the controls are in a different language. She's dressed at least, kind of, barefoot in what appears to be your shirt, white and loose fitting, barely covering her delicious bare ass when she's bent over trying to figure out the buttons.

"Morning," Yuna says over her shoulder, as if completely oblivious to the damage she's caused. "Think your coffee machine is broken."

"Did you break it?"

She takes a good hard look at the machine, as if in disbelief, before turning back around. "No, not a chance. It was like this when I got here."

"Yuna, did you break my fucking coffee machine?" you ask again, in dire need of the very thing she's about to deprive you of. 

"What did I just say? It's not broken. Look, if you press this button it comes out with this weird looking water and if you do this—fuck."

This is unbelievable. As if you needed another reason to kick her out the second you're awake, because you know first hand that Yuna should never be allowed in a kitchen. Any kitchen. Not after the burnt chocolate incident. 

"Let me handle this. Before you destroy my kitchen too."

"Hey, rude—I was just trying to be helpful. But you have some weird fucking coffee maker that you need a PhD in three different languages to understand."

She takes a step back, sighing in defeat as you take over and deal with the chaos left behind. "This is why I don't have company in the morning. A pretty girl comes over and immediately tries to burn my entire place to the ground."

There's this surprised gasp that escapes from her lips as you start everything over from scratch, dumping out whatever awful concoction that was brewing earlier.

"Wait, pretty? You think I'm pretty?"

"That's what you're focusing on right now? You really are insufferable," you mutter, with Yuna's eyes fixating on you while she just beams at the compliment. A few adjustments here and there, a fresh pour of water, and the aroma of fresh coffee starts to linger, slowly clearing up the disaster zone Yuna has left behind.

"You didn't answer my question." 

You have nothing in you but an eye roll.

"Yes. You're very pretty," you finally relent, pulling down two mugs from the cabinet above. "I could do worse than waking up to that in my bed. With my ruined coffee machine."

"Hey, it's not ruined, you jerk. It's working now, isn't it?" 

For now. Not the point you want to argue about right now, because you need caffeine in your system more than you ever have. At least you can enjoy a proper cup on the balcony with Yuna, even if that means putting up with her presence. Which maybe isn't as bad as you once thought, given the eye candy alone makes it slightly tolerable. 

Days pass. Uneventful, mostly, without anything much but the occasional lewd text from Yuna at random points throughout the day. Which you'll admit, is preferable to her showing up at your place unannounced, because you think getting off to the nudes she sends without having to hear her whining in person is a much better alternative. 

It's the weekend, and you don't have anything planned that doesn't involve sleeping it all away. An hour at the gym, maybe. Catching up on laundry, cooking yourself a nice dinner—trying that new bottle of wine that's been sitting in your cabinet untouched for months.

But you’ll never get to any of that. 

"Guess who?" 

That’s all Yuna says before forcing her way into the apartment, like she's already expecting to be let in without a second thought. This bright, happy smile on her lips, strutting into the living room in a small little crop top, and these ridiculous white shorts that are tighter than they have any right to be. "I know you missed me. So I'm here to return your shirt. I washed it. Or the dry cleaning people washed it. Doesn't matter."

"Thanks. Just leave it on the counter, and then you can leave."

Yuna frowns, far more offended by this suggestion than any other you've laid out for her. "But you missed me, haven't you? So I'm going to stay for a couple of days, and you're just going to have to suck it up."

So much for peace and quiet. 

“Absolutely the hell not. Don't you have your own apartment to wreck? You're not staying here."

"Why not?" she asks, tossing your shirt on the counter, just like you said. But just as quickly, she takes a seat on the couch and makes herself entirely too comfortable. "My place is a fucking mess, and I'd rather have some company. Plus, you have that really nice bed that's a thousand times more comfortable than anything I own." 

"You're not staying," you reiterate. "Why are you even here? Did you just get done with a dick appointment, so you're coming here now? This isn't a hotel."

Yuna stretches out on the couch, not bothered in the slightest. "No. I haven't been fucked in three days. How crazy is that? We need to catch up, so I figured I would stay with you—"

"We? Try again. I'm sure there's a gangbang going down somewhere, or an orgy you can crash. I am not letting you stay."

"What, is having me in your life such a terrible fate that you'll die if you don't have a moment's peace? A hot girl on your couch and the first thing you think of is getting rid of her?"

"That's exactly right. I have things to do today. important things. Things that don't involve babysitting you."

Yuna cocks her head at you, wide-eyed. "What could you possibly have to do today that's more important than this ass? Huh? Name one thing."

This girl is the definition of exhausting. Trying to tear your attention away from her brazen attitude is harder than it should be, with her figure slumped against the back of the sofa—arms spread wide and long legs extended so invitingly. That top riding higher and higher each time she so much as breathes, offering a full view of her toned abdomen. You can't find the strength or motivation to fight this, when Yuna looks the way she does. And you're certainly no stranger to sleeping with her.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. There are a thousand things more important than giving you attention. Now get off my couch and go find someone else to annoy."

The demand only earns a childish scoff, Yuna folding her arms across her chest. "Oh come on—look, I'll be good. I'll sleep on the couch, I'll cook you breakfast and dinner and clean whatever the hell I mess up. I won't bother you. Promise."

"You're not stepping foot in my kitchen after you almost broke my coffee maker."

"Almost. Keyword, almost," Yuna adds, barely getting to the end of her sentence before standing up and making her way across the living room to your side. "If I can't cook or clean or do anything, how do you suggest I pay you back for letting me stay here, hmm?"

You clench your fists so hard while exhaling, staring daggers into this psuedo-innocent expression that doesn't have any weight behind it. Knowing damn well what those gears turning in her head have planned. 

"Don’t worry, you're not staying here. So there's no need to pay me back." A simple rejection doesn't seem to deter her. It never does. 

She’s no stranger to the word no, but it doesn’t stop her from taking another step forward. And another one, closing the distance between, almost as a test to see how far she can go before the resistance starts. Then she steps back. Only to spin around, those tempting hips and ass pressing right into the crotch of your sweatpants, using the armchair nearby like support to push a little harder. 

And when she's looking like that, the way Yuna throws that devilish look over her bare shoulder while wiggling her ass is such an easy sell, a perfect visual that causes blood to rush down towards your cock. "If you prefer, I could just pull them right off…"

Somewhere deep inside, you want this—to give up this charade and indulge yourself in every inch of her. In that ass you have memorized to every detail, in that perfect fucking cunt that's yours to taste anytime you please. But the second you give in, there's no turning back.

Because you can't keep pretending that you can control yourself around this girl. Every shred of composure you try to have is fleeting when Yuna's there offering herself up on a platter.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've had someone spank my ass? Two weeks? Maybe even three. Nobody hits harder than those big, strong hands. Nobody can put me in my place like you do. And I've been such a bad, bad girl.” 

Staring at the view presented before you, your knees feel a little weak. The things you want to do to this bratty little tease are practically limitless, sending your imagination racing when you follow the curve of her hips. Because maybe it’s about time she got what she deserves. All those handprints, her sensitive flesh just bruised by your palm, the sight of her bent over and spanked relentlessly—maybe her punishment is your reward. 

It's inevitable at this point. And the worst part is, Yuna knows this all too well.

"What are you waiting for? Spank my ass, make it yours. Make it hurt so good. Please."

That please is what does you in. Because you can picture it now, feeling the supple skin of her ass bounce under every smack of your hand, and that high pitched yelp tearing through her throat the second you really put power behind each strike.

It doesn't help those goddamn skintight shorts that hug her ass, a perfect invitation to have your way. 

You sigh under your breath. Because you’ll fold like always, giving in to those desperate pleas. If only to satisfy the lust that builds for Yuna’s tight body. The way your cock will feel buried inside her ass, while you get so rough fucking her. Until she can barely stand on her own two feet anymore.

Fuck. She knows she's already won.

"Fine. You fucking brat. But not here, not on the couch. I'll need a drink for this."

With a final look at her—looking like sin and sex on two legs, you drag her towards the kitchen to look for the strongest thing you have, looking past the bottle of wine that will have to wait. Yuna waits silently by the counter, with that same knowing look in her eye. A look that has no chance to fade even once you pop open a bottle of something to help wash the regret down.

"God, you're going to regret wearing those shorts," you tell her, not bothering with a glass and taking a huge swig straight from the bottle. And then another. 

"I don’t regret a single thing in my life. Now where's mine?" Yuna asks, pout on her lips as she ignores the fact that those shorts are coming off the first chance you get. 

"You're annoying enough sober—you don't get shit until I've had enough to tolerate you." 

She giggles. Which at this point is more infuriating than cute. "So never?" 

Yuna watches the bottle return to your lips for another long sip. You don't even deny that—instead, your eyes are glued to her shapely figure while you wait for the alcohol to kick in. 

"Give me your belt.” 

You slam the bottle down and stare straight ahead at the puzzled look on Yuna's face—but there's no objection. Instead, she complies and unfastens the clasp before sliding the white leather strip right out and handing it over without asking a thing. 

And that's when you do the honors. Unfastening the front button of those ridiculous shorts and tugging the zipper down. Her shorts are so impossibly tight that even after all that, they still take a little extra strength to tug down past the full curve of her ass. But you do manage to peel them down, staring at the tiny scrap of blue cotton and lace that hardly covers a damn thing—what those shorts are concealing beneath, this small string nestled just between her smooth, bare asscheeks. 

“Surprised you even wore panties at all today.” 

“I wore them so you’d rip them off me. It’s no fun if I don’t make you earn it first.”

That cocky little smirk doesn’t falter—not until you grab her ass like it belongs to you, fingers digging in deep, rough enough to make her squirm. Yuna wants to be manhandled, you know that already, so you squeeze harder, spread her wide and knead every inch, marveling at how much of her there is to take.

Her thong barely counts as anything, just a bright blue string that disappears between her cheeks. It's the only thing standing between you and burying deep inside.

"Fuck, I can't wait to feel your hands hurting this ass so fucking hard," Yuna groans, rolling her hips back into your grip. 

You don't respond—because now you've got your teeth hooked into the flimsy fabric of her thong. One swift tug downward snaps the thin fabric and tears right through so you can get right to that incredible ass of hers. No sooner have the scraps of her panties fallen to the kitchen floor before you've got a solid grip on each bare cheek, sinking your teeth in just enough to mark her pale flesh.

Laughing under your breath as you run fingertips across those creamy cheeks, you shake your head in disbelief. "You think I'm going to be using my hands?" you ask while picking up her discarded belt, an almost forgotten strip of leather until this exact moment.

Yuna looks back over her shoulder with the biggest grin.

"We're doing this my way.” 

Dropping your sweatpants right around your ankles for some relief, she can't help but stare at your bulge. And a smile perks up on her lips the instant she catches sight of the leather belt in your tight fist. Surprisingly, Yuna stays silent, even as you test the belt out between the palm of your hand, the crack of leather echoing around the kitchen. "You wanna get spanked? Then you're gonna get spanked. Bad girls don't get a say in this."

"Can't wait," she responds, not obedient, but almost daring as her hands clutch tight to the kitchen counter to brace for the first impact. Neither can you. 

"Eyes forward then, slut," you demand, running the leather down her skin, tracing along every curve until she has no choice but to face away. Before any warning, the satisfying crack of leather connects right against her bare ass, ripping a startled yelp from those bratty lips. A strike so forceful it jolts her body forward and leaves a light imprint on her delicate flesh. 

It puts a smile on your face when you get the same reaction. Another sharp crack cuts through the silence, right against the flesh of her ass with even much force. Another welt, another moan, as this bright red mark begins to form as the color spreads across her flesh. "M-more, please—that stings so fucking good. F-fuck, more."

The next smack sends her hips slamming back into the counter, another strangled noise coming from her mouth right as you hit her harder without thinking. “If it's too much, speak up." 

But the noise she makes is barely coherent. All you can see is the look of excitement on her face as you deliver more stinging slaps to her same cheek, over and over until you've had enough—only switching to the other for an identical treatment and marking the unblemished skin just the same.

"N-never. I love the pain, love the feeling of this belt on my ass—please keep going." Even with the crack in her voice, the smack of leather against bare skin overshadows her cries while you up the ante and show no mercy. 

Over and over with these slaps all over her cheeks, fueled by frustration with Yuna yelping each time you send the belt flying into that sore, marked skin. But she still grinds her hips back at you for more, eager for any ounce of pleasure, and every ounce of pain that comes alongside.

The entire time Yuna stays bent over, loud gasps and pathetic whines for another while these harsh spanks rain down so she can feel the sting that lingers right after. Hard enough to leave her speechless and biting back to not beg you for even worse. She grips the countertop like she'll simply fall over if she doesn't. And after a well-timed hit, you force a break that she doesn't ask for—a moment to collect herself and catch her bearings. A moment to admire the redness that's not going away anytime soon.

"Still want more?" you ask her with a tug at her hair, the belt grazing her tender skin. 

"M-more. Give me everything you fucking have," she can barely breathe out between whimpers, gripping even tighter onto the kitchen counter, so that your next hit to that reddened ass leaves behind an unmistakable imprint on those plump cheeks. "Fucking make it hurt, don't treat me like I can't take it. Harder."

You can certainly oblige her. Harder is exactly what you'll do—each vicious snap of the belt a little more relentless, no pauses between several loud cracks against that aching flesh, causing the most delectable noise as Yuna gasps every single time. Even as you step back, inspecting the artwork you've left on her backside, Yuna is far from satisfied. "I said to fucking make it hurt. But you're holding back on me, stop doing that."

Oh, let her fucking complain. Even with a burning sting on her ass, Yuna can't help but provoke you a bit further, with your grip in her hair tightening. But those slaps only come faster—each vicious hit with the leather cracks over her raw ass, moans muffled as her cheek gets pressed right up against the cold countertop. 

The belt swings wide again, hitting both cheeks at once and making them jiggle, the redness across Yuna's round little ass making a stark contrast against the pure, porcelain skin. And she hears it first before feeling it. 

Another cry of ecstasy that escapes her throat right as the belt brings about more stinging slaps, until you let the folded length of her own belt linger in the air, so she doesn't even know when the next swing will happen. You love nothing more than watching her body tense up—every single nerve on edge knowing another hard smack will come her way the second she even breathes, her reddened ass ready to receive whatever you have left in store for it.

"Like doesn't begin to describe it. I'm fucking crazy for it," she gasps out, when the belt stays far enough away that you give her some sense of relief—until it brushes over the sore, sensitive skin, making the softest touch seem worse than an outright strike. Then it cracks over her cheeks in succession, her thighs clenching together as she takes it. 

"My god, nobody has an ass like this, Shin Yuna. Nobody. Especially now with all these pretty little marks, and those noises you make when I spank you, I could listen to those all fucking day."

You put the belt down and stroke over the red welts from where you may have gone just a little too far, not that Yuna would ever object. She glances back over her shoulder with the biggest smile, even through the tears staining her cheeks.

"That’s as much as you deserve, you desperate little slut.” 

Up her body you wander, pulling her upright and stripping her of that small crop top so your hands have better access. Then straight into the clasp of her bra, cupping her tits once you’ve freed them, kneading with a little force the way you know Yuna loves. 

"I can handle so much more than this, I swear. I could take so much more," Yuna insists with another cute sniffle. The problem is, you know she can. All you have to do is glance between her thighs, and the mess on the tiles tells you enough. 

"I know you can," you breathe in her ear, hand trailing up around her throat until your fingers close tightly around it. Yuna lets out this short and sweet moan in your grasp when you apply more pressure. “But you got what you want. Now it’s my fucking turn.” 

Yuna drips at the thought. There's no sense in resisting her, no point in pretending this wasn't inevitable from the moment she had herself bent over with those tight fucking shorts. You'll give into everything she wants despite pretending to do the opposite. 

"What's that fucking word you keep calling me?" you ask her, the grip around her neck making her thighs clench even harder this time. "Go on."

"D-daddy. That's it. But you said never to—"

"Doesn't apply here. One time, this one time, use it. Use it while I'm shoving my cock in your needy little asshole, understand?"

"Yes—I fucking understand. Y-yes, daddy. Just this once."

A quick release of her throat so Yuna can turn her body in your direction, the tears in those alluring eyes yet to dry up. Your free hand palms over her ass once again, getting a nice, possessive squeeze as a reward for everything she's endured already.

"My ass fucking hurts," she says, laughing it off between shaky breaths and the occasional sniffle. "G-god, this belt fucking hurt more than your hand ever could."

"Are you complaining or bragging?" you ask as your lips meet, hot breath against one another as her slender fingers grasp against the hem of your shirt, up and off within seconds so she can slide her fingers up and down your bare chest. 

"What do you think?" 

Your boxers come off last, not even hitting the ground before Yuna is stroking your stiff cock with this playful expression on her features. Then it's in her grip the entire time you walk her down the hallway and into the bedroom. As expected, she can't keep her hands off of you for more than a second, right up to when the bed frame hits the back of her knees and the only option is falling back onto the mattress.

"God, Yuna, the things I'm going to do to you—the ways I'll ruin you." With her legs spread wide, and thighs glistening with arousal, you get to indulge in the view while Yuna plays with her clit in lazy, drawn-out circles.

“Need you in my ass, daddy—need it now. Isn't that clear?" Oh, how unexpected that she’s going to abuse the permission of that one single word. 

"I can assure you the feeling is mutual," you insist, and join her on the edge of the mattress, taking her hips and flipping her over until she's lying right on her stomach with that sore, marked ass up on display, raised up off the mattress.

She props herself up on her elbows so she’s in position, right in the center of the bed. The sight is perfection—this shameless, insatiable fucktoy, sprawled across your bed with her legs parted, knees sunk into the bed, ready and waiting for you. 

Just as she opens her mouth to say something, you bury your face into those pillowy cheeks, the tip of your tongue swirling against her tight fucking asshole.

"F-fuuuck, it's been so long since I've had your tongue in my ass, daddy," Yuna moans, your spit lubricating her puckered hole all over, the softness of her cheeks pressing deep against your face as she tries to grind back. You shove your tongue deeper, tasting, savoring everything—eating her ass like it's the only reason you let her stay here tonight. The reason why you even opened the front door.

There's nothing better than the unfiltered moans while you plunge your tongue deep into the depths of her asshole, face first against it and greedy, spreading her wide apart while you slip in, those cries of pleasure getting higher. 

You taste—no, you devour her, tongue exploring, thrusting in and out of that tight little ring that clenches around each swipe. This delicious tongue-fuck that gets better the more desperate Yuna sounds, writhing around your sheets and pushing back, all in hopes to keep your mouth where it belongs. 

"This ass belongs to me," you remind her, a harsh slap on the still reddened flesh to make the pleasure even better. 

Yuna spreads her cheeks wider so you can plunge as deep as possible, so you can hear her delicious moans as your spit covers her glistening hole. One long, sloppy lick in and out, tongue so deep in her asshole that all she can do is whimper helplessly for more. 

"D-don't act like you didn't miss this," she says, still as cocky as ever through a breathless groan of satisfaction. Your tongue teases one last time, a thumb replacing it to press into the ring of muscle that's already relaxed, seeing how easy it is to sink into.

She’s more than ready, but you need one more taste before grabbing the lube so you can slide a wet digit right inside the puckered hole of Yuna's ass—fingering her the same way you've done countless times already. 

She's tight, of course, that’s a given, but even as a finger curls inside, this grip around your finger won’t begin to compare once your cock is in the same place. Two fingers is the limit, plunging them deep enough to stretch Yuna just enough so your cock will slide right in. "Only I get to fucking pound your asshole, yeah?"

"O-oh fuck, it's only you, daddy. Nobody else, nobody but you, I promise—your cock in my ass, right where it belongs. J-just you." 

Your fingers finally pop out, and instead the slick, swollen head of your cock is pushing into the tightest, most inviting hole—one long, deep thrust right up until the base, so her asshole can swallow every last inch in a single motion. 

Yuna clutches the sheets so tight, arching her back to push that ass up into the air. She's so tight that you can't even fathom it, this delicious clench around everything stuffed to the hilt—and there's nothing like this. Nobody gets this privilege, you believe. Nobody gets to indulge in the luxury of fucking Yuna's perfect, tight little asshole. Not a single person but you gets to make her moan quite this way. 

"Stop wasting time and fuck my ass. Pound me, p-please. Don't make me fucking beg." 

So much for savoring any of it. You sink your fingers right into her ridiculous hips, gripping her harder than usual to drag her backwards onto your cock. Hard enough to force this groan out of her—so needy and pathetic in the midst when your hips meet her bare ass. A brief moment to take it all in, before sliding almost entirely back and rocking forward with full force. 

"Oh my fucking god—my ass feels so full, shit—"

She's barely breathing between words, and you don't intend on helping her out in that regard at all when you're too busy staring at her red, tender cheeks, loving how they jiggle with every rock of your hips.

“Did you expect anything else?" you ask while giving her a good, harsh slap to that same spot where red is still clear as can be. With such a good view, it's impossible to do anything other than drive deep and begin pounding her mercilessly. "A pathetic fucking slut like you deserves nothing but a rough fuck. And that's what you're gonna get." 

Yuna does little but spew moans and throw her head back when your cock buries deep in her ass. This tightness never gets old, your hips on a mission to bury in her and hit all the places Yuna loves, enough to get her drooling all over your pillows. But her asshole—as snug, warm, and irresistible as it is, you can’t fathom how hard she squeezes every time you drill forward, showing no signs of restraint.

"S-so good," she lets out through short gasps, her face buried in the pillows and her teeth biting your sheets hard. “Love when you treat me like a fucking toy, daddy—"

"Yuna, that's exactly what you are," you tell her while you're so deep in her ass it's almost overwhelming. "So tight, I'll never stop pounding you, fuck. Tightest little hole I've ever fucked."

Yuna glances over her shoulder, while you get a good, tight grip on her hair and tug so she clenches harder, with every stroke balls fucking deep—as rough as you think she needs it. Even as the sound of your cock reaming her ass echoes throughout the entire room, nothing could possibly be enough. 

Your unrelenting, deep thrusts into Yuna's asshole cause the whole damn bed to creak from the violent force of your strokes, pulling her hair harder for that extra roughness she loves. 

No break, not the slightest pause until you absolutely have to—because you could do this all day and not grow tired of the way Yuna moans or how her cheeks bounce when you slam into them. Those cheeks that you get a tight handful of—palms full, and dig your fingers in for some leverage while your thrusts turn animalistic, barely in control at this point. 

But Yuna can take it, you can see it in that fucked out expression. The pleasure written all over her features while her mouth falls open as you show her no mercy—spreading her ass just so you can marvel at your cock hammering in and out, stretched out so wide around you.

"So good, g-god, so deep, love how deep your cock goes," Yuna can barely get out, like it takes all the energy out of her. You know you're not anywhere near wearing her out, not while watching your dick destroy her asshole.

"Not enough?" 

“N-not even fucking close. Give me all you've got, come on," she pleads for in this broken, muffled whine with her face shoved so far against your sheets she can barely breathe. 

Another deep thrust, enough force behind that slams the bed against the wall, loud enough to compete with the sound of her ass slapping against your hips. And when you draw back again, you grab her delicate little wrists, pulling her arms behind her back and using them as leverage—so Yuna can't do anything at all but let her asshole get wrecked.

"More, more—keep fucking pounding my tight ass, come on. D-don't stop, daddy. You know I'm fucking addicted to this fat cock," Yuna pleads so pathetically, immobile and helpless, taking whatever comes next with her arms hostage and your cock impaling her to the hilt.

Your hips do exactly that. Fucking her ass in quick strokes until all she does is cry out for you to destroy her, and then some. Yuna takes everything, the groans and yelps when you give no chance for recovery, the thrusts so deep and noises more depraved by the second. Her wrists pinned by the small of her back so she doesn't even have the chance of touching her swollen clit.

"That cock in my ass feels so fucking amazing. Oh my fucking god, fuck me, fuck my asshole as deep as possible."

When you yank her body back, your hands stay locked around her wrists with enough force for her to gasp. But you’re too busy pummeling her ass to even get a word out—too focused on that impossible tightness wrapped around your cock, the  perfect grip around every inch like it's trying to force you to cum.

"Better get used to this, slut. My cock is going to keep wrecking your tight little ass over and over again for the next two days. And maybe even longer if you really deserve it."

Her wrists go free, only for your hands to find her delicious hips again, slamming back in and using all the momentum to crash into Yuna as hard as your body can muster—until she's pinned flat onto your mattress, trapped right under you without a single break between the thrusts that hit at a different angle. 

With your legs spread on either side of her, your torso stays flat against her naked back, keeping your weight right down over her small frame. The bed shakes each time you enter the deepest parts of her ass, every single stroke her greedy hole swallows up and demands even more than you can possibly offer. 

"That's it, j-just like that. Just keep fucking my ass, love the way that you ruin it—"

"Yuna—" You bring a harsh smack down across her reddened, sore cheek to really punctuate each thrust. "You think I wouldn’t when your ass is squeezing my cock so fucking good?"

Every bit of movement between the two of you happens right where your skin is pressed against hers—sweat on her body indistinguishable from the sweat on yours. Hands around her hips so you can keep a nice, possessive grip while you relentlessly drive forward to pound her body into your mattress, no chance of lasting much longer now. Not with the way you're drilling her, no chance at all.

And yet, you can't tear your eyes away from how her ass looks getting pounded, bouncing every time your hips make contact with the reddened cheeks of her ass.

"If you fuck me any harder, you might actually break this bed," Yuna gasps out, laughter still coming to her lips despite how ruined and breathless she is. That sounds like a good option, if you can’t help it, no matter how rough you need to be with her. Yuna is beyond that—insatiable and incapable of getting satisfied for very long at all, the way most people would. 

But that doesn't mean you won't give your all for this performance. So you get back on your knees, getting each hand full of Yuna's plump ass, sinking your fingertips as much as humanly possible to watch your cock destroy this perfect girl. 

"Then I'll keep going, until we've destroyed my entire goddamn bedroom. That's how much I love pounding your ass."

She just giggles until a moan replaces it, lost in all these noises. You won't stop, not if your legs give out from exhaustion. Every hard and deep thrust has your eyes fixed upon where your hips meet those decadent cheeks. With Yuna face down on her stomach, there’s no better view to watch how well your cock stretches her hole open. 

"You're getting there, I can feel it," she taunts. You hate that you can’t even see her face, but you know she’s grinning. Smug little brat. "Go ahead, fill this tight, little asshole. Use it until you cum."

And she just gets you so riled up, that it's inevitable, as soon as those words leave Yuna's mouth. "I cannot believe I went this long without my cock inside you. When you say it out loud, it just sounds—"

"Crazy? Come on. I know it drove you crazy. The only time you're actually fucking happy is when this big dick is buried in my ass. Not just inside some random girl who's not me, or a warm mouth who's not mine."

God, do you hate when she's right. Hate it with every fiber of your being, but you don't even have time to think about anything else, because these soft cheeks you're palming so hard is the thing that's about to break you first. That same voice that you can't stand on most days, is what helps you unravel—what brings you to that delirious edge and drives your hips with full force for these last few deep thrusts that rattle the bed. 

You start to lose full control, snapping your hips a little too fast, once, twice—before finally bottoming out with her name on your lips and erupting deep inside her ass. It's unstoppable, filling her with your thick, messy release in each deep throb when your cock pumps Yuna full, her asshole accepting it with each final burst of tightness.

"There you go, fucking cum in my ass," Yuna moans out as those harsh clenches milk everything out of you. You ride that high for as long as possible, each furious thrust pumping your seed deep inside, each hammering her body into the mattress—again and again until your balls have nothing left. 

Even after then, your hips don’t cease, fucking the rest of your load deeper inside her tight, filled hole. You can already see your release trickling out, her ass stuffed too full and overflowing with your cum already. "F-fuck, there's so fucking much, it's so thick—oh my god, daddy came so much…” 

Yuna sighs out into the silence, while you're left holding those sore cheeks to catch your breath. Both of you struggling to recover. 

"That's like, several days worth of cum in your ass," you say, dragging your spent cock out of her to get a good look, holding her cheeks spread apart as it flows in a thick mess between her thighs. Your fingers slide right into that gaping, ruined asshole, pushing back whatever cum threatens to drip out.

"Jesus, Yuna. Look at how much is spilling out. Was worried I actually broke you there for a moment when you're this tight."

"Nope. Still perfect. And it's still not enough," Yuna says, insatiable as ever. Only then do you start to peel yourself off of her, her worn-out body a complete sweat-covered mess.

“Too bad. You fucking drained me dry, you greedy slut."

Yuna laughs, and when she rolls over on her back to face you, she's the image of perfection: hair matted all against her forehead with sweat, makeup a bit smeared, her lips and cheeks redder than usual—ruined but still absolutely stunning.

“Like you could ever run out. Not when I'm around…” 

Yuna shifts right in front of you until she's directly in front of your gaze and kneeling between your legs. She smiles up at you and her mouth gets right back on your throbbing, sensitive cockhead. Each obscene slurp makes it a little harder to convince yourself that she shouldn't be staying for the weekend, because you might not ever let her leave. While not a day goes by without you hating her guts, not a day goes by without wanting to pin her up against a wall and fuck her senseless.

Her mouth slides deep, cleaning off everything, and her lips, her tongue running against the slit, and the cute expression the whole time, god—this girl is going to be the death of you.

She drags her tongue in slow, gentle swipes around the head, sucking every single drop clean and looking for more. There's not a single bit of reluctance—her wet mouth eagerly cleaning up your shaft in long strokes. Then she slides both hands around your hips and shoves you back, knocking you off balance until you hit the mattress. Yuna doesn’t give you a second to recover, already between your legs again. 

Now you're the helpless one, that hot little mouth working to fit the entire thick length down her throat. You don't even care about the overstimulation, not with this view of Yuna bobbing her head, those lips sealed tight. 

"Fuck, you’re crazy—“ you let out, running fingers through her messy hair, while Yuna ignores you and devours your spent cock, balls deep down her throat until she gags the slightest bit.

"You love it, though. Because it means you’re gonna fuck me harder now.” 

Maybe you do regret ever opening the door for her and letting her inside your apartment to ruin her. Or maybe you're the one ruined instead. You're not entirely sure at this point. 

"You're gonna have to wait, not everything is at full capacity yet." Yuna cocks her head to the side, stopping her full strokes so she can crawl up and get comfortable on top of you, until you're face to face, inches apart. 

"Daddy got too worn out pounding my ass? Is that my fault?"

All you have the energy for is to brush away strands of her disheveled hair out of the way, so you can stare at her gorgeous face. "Yes. And you can stop calling me that. One time thing, remember?"

Yuna giggles. "No—one time won't be enough. You know I like saying it."

You can’t even hide the sigh that escapes. But you should have known better, you suppose, for letting the floodgates open and allowing her that one time. Now you'll never hear the end of it, and it's going to be rolling off her lips the next time she begs you to fuck her again.

"You'll never listen to anything I say ever, will you?"

You already know the answer to that. But you’ll still indulge in her lips, this unexpected soft kiss after all the roughness. After all the debauchery of tonight, it’s what you both need. 

"Definitely not," Yuna replies, eyes wide and bright. “You’re just gonna have to find a way to shut me up—daddy."

You hate that word with a passion, you'd hate it if you were to hear anyone else say it to you—but for some reason, hearing that coming from those pouty lips, you hate even more that you might grow to love it the same amount. "You get to stay the weekend, and not a minute longer. Got it?"

There's this knowing glint in her eyes, all too confident that you'll break and think otherwise. "Don't be so sure about that. After one more night, you'll be begging me to stay an entire month. Begging me."

A roll of your eyes, and a laugh that’s far too loud escapes, because in truth, she's most certainly right. It's this push and pull between wanting her far away and wanting her around more than ever.

"Yuna, don't push your fucking luck," you warn, the last remnants of trying to distract from the truth.

"It's a little late for that, don't you think? I've pushed far past my limit. Might as well just start moving my things here."

That's a step too far. You'll fuck her brains out as many times as she needs, you'll even allow her to sleep in your bed for as many nights as she wants. This is already too domestic for your liking, but the thought of her staying here without giving you a moment's break? You'd rather perish.

"Absolutely fucking not. Don't even joke about that, Yuna."

"I was kidding," she insists, playing with the locks of your hair, not bothered at all by the agony on your face. "I'm here to get dicked down, that's it. I don't need to take over your whole apartment just to make sure my asshole is stretched." 

"Jesus, Yuna. Why the fuck are you so—"

"Insatiable? Hot? Good at deepthroating you until you explode down my throat? Because it's fun to see you get so flustered, daddy." 

Another one slips past her lips. You're just going to have to live with it at this point, she's so obsessed getting a reaction out of you, and you make it so easy for her. "Fuck off, I do not get flustered. And you need to stop saying that."

"No fucking chance. I'm going to call you that every single time you pound me. I'm going to scream it while you shove my face into your pillows and fuck the shit out of me, while you fold me up and choke me, get me on my knees and gag me until I'm drooling—"

"Yuna, I am not fucking you for at least another hour. Maybe even two."

"That's fine. We don't have to fuck at all, because my ass still fucking hurts,” she says, letting out a noise somewhere near a giggle and a sigh all at once. “I'm going to feel those welts you left on me forever, that belt made my ass so fucking sore that I'm surprised I can even walk. Just thinking about it makes me fucking drip—“

"Could you be any bigger of a slut than you already are?" 

Yuna shakes her head, this soft smile as if your insults only spur her on, as they seem to do. "Never. Not even if I tried." 

[tojisteddy]

Hi girl love your work and can you do a story when Simon overstimulates her with a toy in car love you girl

Middle of Nowhere | cw: 18+ mdni, daddy kink (kinda icky), overstim, use of toy, fingering, squirting, degradation, dumbification, meanie!simon, public sex (?) (it’s in a car so)

“Come on kitten, look so pretty, won’t you give me a show?”

You should’ve said ‘no’ right then and there.

Simon did an oil change to your car and decided he wanted to test it out, go for a quick drive with you just to make sure it was running smooth. You should’ve just hopped in there, but you took twentyfive five minutes getting ready.

Getting ready for what exactly? To sit in the car?

Well, yes!

Just a little make up, your glasses, change from out of the oversized shirt to a pair of jeans and a grey top that showed off your midsection, curls framing your face. Cute, really cute— bewitching even. You’d come down the steps all casual and ready to go and then leaned his head up to look at the ceiling with a sigh.

Simon could’ve eaten you right then and there, said fuck the drive, and bent your pretty ass over the couch, ate your pussy till you got the floor damp with a your sweet juices.

He chose, instead, to play a little game with you.

Gave a nod of his head in approval of your outfit, have you twirl to see your plump ass. Asked you with a ghost of a smirk on his lips, to give him a show, draw you in to his trap like he always did. You stupidly said yes, which led you to have a little toy in your cunt, your pretty long lashes fluttering shut while you gripped onto the door and Simons arm, and little mewls of ‘ahh’s and ‘ooh’s leaving your pretty lips.

“Pa, hngh- please.”

“Please, please, please, she says. Please what? We’re just going for a little ride, right? You’re a big girl. So sit still ‘nd there won’t be any issues.” He hummed.

Bastard.

He knew good and well the car bumping around like it did along with the vibrator had you mind in a whirlwind, and then he slowly kept hicked the volume up from 2 to 4.

“F-fuck!” You hiccup, an orgasm washing over you like a wave, your eyes blinking, trying to stay open.

Simon looks over at you, more than amused as you withered, but it’s not enough. He wants to see your head spin, ache and cry to cum. He turns it down to one, lets you settle in the feeling that turns it up to three. His knuckles brushes your cheek which makes you jolt, other hand on the wheel. You pout, panting, squirming in your seat for any kind of relief. But it’s not enough.

“I wanna cum, please Si.”

Simon’s hand goes to your neck, caressing your nose with his thumb making you shiver, your nipples hardening. He chuckles darkly, “You that impatient you can’t wait? I taught you better than that.”

“I- but- I-” And he turns it back down again, you can feel the tears pricking at your eyes. You grip onto his free arm, letting his large calloused hand fall in between your thighs. Humping at it like a damn animal.

“Awww,” he croons, Brown eyes meeting yours for a split second, the car changing from lane to lane— “Bein desperate little bitch, huh baby? That’s not good, is it?”

“I-I’ll be good Daddy. Promise! I- I wanna be-“ you don’t even know what words are falling from your lips, anything to get that release that’s been held back from you. Simon’s greedy girl. Your pulsing clit is begging for attention, slick drenching the lips and underwear confining your cunt.

“Oooh, look doll” The older man nods to the front view mirror, and you follow his eyes, “it’s the police, you think they’re gonna pull us over?”

Your eyes widen, the police car right behind you, you can’t even make out the person driving, your eyes are blurry, senses skewed, “No-“

“No you don’t think so?” He asks obliviously, as if he doesn’t know what you mean. 

“No, anngh- I don’t- don’t want them to see me- hah- i don’t wanna g-get in trouble!”

But it’s enough to make Simon’s eyes smile, turning the volume up to the max, making you sob in pleasure. Shoving his arm away as you try to hide yourself in the car door. You try your best to hold it, but it makes you worse, legs tingling and you thrash in your seat, tears leaving your eyes. It’s too much.

He laughs, “Thought ya said ya wanted to cum?”

“Pa I can’t- really can’t! They’ll see!” You cry through a moan. The blonde ignores your cries, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping his hands inside.

He soothes you, you don’t know it but the police cars passed at the last exit. His large fingers brush over your soaked folds of your panties a couple times, flicking your poor swollen clit, “Come on baby girl, be good and cum.”

Your mouth slightly agape, head falling against the headrest as tight pink walls spasm over nothing.

“Fuck baby,” he groans as your prettily release, taking his hand and sucking the two fingers you got wet and taking them out with a ‘pop’

Simon, that 6’4 demon, takes you chin in his fingers and tickling it before turning your face to look at him. Your eyes are low, you’re delerious, aching for his words— a good fucking kitty, aren’t you? He smirks, “rub your little clit, yeah? Show me you want it. We’re almost home. Maybe Dad’ll give you a reward.”

“Daddy the seat.” You mumble, the car swerves just a bit from something you can’t even register, but it makes that vibrator press into your soaking walls more, making you whimper.

He scuffs, grabbing your hand and shoving your manicured fingers in your pants. “Rub it kitty.”

It was never a question to begin with, the vibrator is still on high. That orgasm never truly went away, your fingers move your clit in a circular motion, the sloshing of your juices and creaminess hit the walls of the car, dampening your fingers so much they start to prune.

You choke on a sob, “Feels so good Daddy, mmmh- it’s always so- so gooood.”

Simon eyes light up, you ditzy bitch. Aren’t even worried about if cars see you now, to worried about your pretty pussy. He loves the way your eyes squeeze shut, plump lips fall open and your whole body shakes— “Make a mess then kitten. Be a messy girl.”

a chant of dad, daddy, dad falls off your lips when you fall apart again, your leg kicking out as water comes out of your pussy and soaks through underwear.

It’s a mess for sure, that’s definitely staining your jeans and the seats.

Simon takes you hand out, the car parking in your drive through. He turns the vibrator off and sucks your wet fingers clean. Kissing on them and rubbing them.

“Such a good girl f’me luvie. Gave me a good show.”

a/n: made this icky sorry. I love it. It was fun writing this. Sorry it took so long. Lmk what you bubs think.

most recent masterlist more meanie!simon

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦���𝔱<3: @bruisedfig @tessakate @sevikasblackgf @mocha-the-muse @nightfwn @mims900 @lillybunni

[wosospacegirl]

Hiya mate!, Can I have a request maybe a Leah x reader or Alexia x reader. Where the reader join the current girlfriend trend and video their reaction..... Thank you

Love all the fic you made love lots

Current girlfriend- Alexia Putellas / Leah Williamson

I couldn't choose between my captains, so I did a little thing for both of them - two separate blurbs in one.

Word count: 1.7

..

Alexia Putellas

You weren't really someone who posted a lot on social media. Not when you were a teen, and absolutely not now that you dated Barcelona's golden girl.

Alexia liked her privacy. She liked knowing there were things the fans, the media, and the world didn't know. Your relationship wasn't necessarily one of those things. She didn't keep you tucked away in some apartment, hidden from everyone and everything. 

No, she didn't mind being seen walking down the streets with you; she couldn't care less about the cameras in her face when a game ended, and you had come down to the pitch to hug her.

She just didn't like leaving much of a digital footprint, and you were the same way. You liked to keep some things just between the two of you.

But oh. When you saw that little TikTok prank, you couldn't help yourself. You wanted to try it, but you also didn't like the whole world seeing it…the camera would give away parts of your shared home, and that was something just for you two and the people closest to you.

So you decided to film it just for yourself. That way, you could still participate in the trend, keep yours and Alexia's privacy intact, but the prank would have to be tweaked a little.

You tucked the phone into one of the sofa pillows. Didn't have to hide it much, Alexia was terrible at noticing things she wasn't actively looking for.

You sat on the sofa and gave the camera one last look. Great, the frame was perfect.

"Ale, come here!"

Alexia was getting ready for training, focused, in her usual headspace, and of course, you had to mess with her. Just a little.

She said something back from upstairs that you couldn't make out, but then she appeared a few minutes later. And she looked so beautiful with her training jersey on, it made you wanna keep her to yourself.

"So I have this small party at work this Saturday, can you go with me?" You asked gently.

Alexia's face softened. "No lo sé, cariño, tengo que revisar mi agenda" [I don’t know, love, I have to check my schedule.]

You were very used to that response, you expected it even, so you just smiled back, leaning even further into the sofa, you were just getting comfortable.

"Well…as my current girlfriend–" you pretended to cough so it would give her some time to comprehend and let the word settle in. "--you need to be present! It's at 7 pm."

Alexia's smile faltered a bit, and you could see that she was caught between a mix of "did I hear that right?" with "that can't possibly be true."

"Qué?" [What?] She said, her eyebrows furrowing. She was so confused, it was funny and cute at the same time.

"Dinner, at 7 pm, amor," you repeated, but not the part she clearly wanted. "But if you can't go, it's alright…"

"No, no," she shook her head. "Current? Current girlfriend?"

Bingo

"Yes?"

"No? Why current? We've been dating for three years." She said, her voice a little impatient now, as if she was asking herself why she even needed to be saying that.

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't change anything, we are still CURRENTLY dating," you emphasised the word.

Alexia moved on her heels, she opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She looked at you, then looked at her training bag on the floor.

"No me gustó eso," she said. "Not current.. solo novia, okay?" [I don't like that/ just girlfriend, okay?]

The pout on her face was so extremely cute that you weren't able to keep your composure. You got up from the sofa and wrapped your arms around her.

For a few seconds, she stood there, arms crossed, but then she gave in.

"I don't like that word," she mumbled against your shoulder, her voice almost in a whine. "Current makes it sound temporary."

You couldn't help the smile spreading across your face as you held her tighter. "I know, baby. I'm sorry."

"We're not temporary," she pulled back just enough to look at you, that little pout still there. "Sí?"

"No, we're definitely not temporary." You said, kissing her whole face.

She studied your face for a moment. "Wait..." Her eyes narrowed. "You're smiling too much. Why are you…"

Her gaze moved around the room and landed on the phone peeking out from the pillow. Okay, maybe Alexia did have some hidden ability to find phones, actually. 

"Ay, por Dios,"  she groaned, but you caught the corner of her mouth twitching. "You filmed this?"

"Maybe."

"Qué tonta eres…" [You are such a dork] she said, fighting a smile. "Delete it."

"I was already planning to," you laughed, pulling her even closer. "It was just for me anyway. I wanted to see if I could make Barcelona's golden girl pout."

"I don't pout."

"Hmm." You kissed her forehead. "You definitely pout."

She huffed against your neck, but her arms tightened around you. "Next time you want to mess with me, just ask for attention like a normal person."

"Where's the fun in that?"

..

Leah Williamson

You were bored out of your mind. It was a rainy afternoon. It was grey, cold, and your girlfriend had some annoying thing she had to attend to. Meaning: it wasn't a great day at all.

Leah needed to be at some Lionesses' dinner, one to welcome the new girls who had just received their first senior call-up.

You weren't allowed to go since plus ones weren't permitted, so you decided last minute that you would go to some café and do something. You just didn't want to stay home alone.

You had a couple of uni assignments that needed to be done, some research you had to complete for your internship the other day, but the day was already depressing as it was…you didn't need to bring more of that into your already grey day. 

So drinking very expensive coffee and delicious pastries was the right answer. Plus, Leah felt bad that you couldn't go with her and had given you her card.

Your life had been so uneventful lately. With Leah's tight schedule and your responsibilities, you two couldn't go out much or spend the amount of time together that you would like. So you thought, why not make today a little different?

You weren't an influencer, per se, but you had a fair share of followers on Instagram, so why not do a little Instagram Live while you got ready for your outing and Leah got ready for hers? It was June–Pride month–and nothing better to celebrate it than showing off your very hot, very English Captain, Champions-winner girlfriend.

You had your dress on already, and Leah was doing her hair on the other side of the room. She looked pretty. She was wearing mom jeans, a plain white shirt, and a black leather jacket on top of that, you knew your followers would thank you for showing Leah and her outfit.

Again, very Pride Month. Very much gay.

You had obviously asked Leah if it was okay for her to show up in the live stream. She said yes (she always did whenever you asked her to film something with you), so you propped your phone on top of your makeup organiser and pressed play.

In a few minutes, you had a couple of hundred people watching you, to say the least. You began talking about random stuff, nothing really important, just about your day and your routine. 

Leah would casually walk behind you, stopping just long enough to wrap her arms around you and kiss your head before disappearing again, looking for her shoes or bag.

The people watching the live went crazy whenever Leah showed up. It was honestly funny, the amount of fire emojis running up and down on your screen.

Then, a comment popped up asking you to do a prank on Leah, the "Current Girlfriend" prank. The comment quickly disappeared among a hundred others, but it was enough time for you to read it and decide that you were going to do it.

"Leah," you said, looking at her while putting your lipstick on. "Come stand with me for a bit."

Leah was in a very good mood, so she did it quickly and without complaining. She stood by your side and wrapped one arm around your waist, bringing you closer. She kissed the top of your head while looking at the camera.

You decided that was the perfect moment.

"Well, my current girlfriend and I look so fine today and—"

"Current?" Leah interrupted, looking down at you, using the same voice she used when she was surprised. "Okay, wow!"

"What?" you asked, trying to sound clueless, which you were very good at.

"Current girlfriend?" Leah lifted her eyebrows cockily, as if she couldn't believe what was happening. "Who are you talking about? Not me, I'm sure."

"Of course I'm talking about you!" you said, looking at the phone, and then back at her. "Aren't you my current girlfriend?"

She laughed. Really laughed as you were trying to keep an emotionless face.

"I don't understand you," you said. "What's so funny?"

"You," Leah said. "You are funny, silly even, saying things like 'current girlfriend' as if you want to have a different girlfriend in the future."

"I never said that!" You smiled at her before pecking her lips, leaving your lipstick stain on her mouth. "You're being dramatic."

"Me? Dramatic?" Leah asked, pointing at herself, "You're messing with me, aren't you? That can't be possible."

You turned back to your mirror, the Instagram Live still going strong. You picked up some blush, applying it while watching Leah through the reflection.

Leah was so annoyingly confident that it was nearly impossible to pull these types of pranks on her. She didn't get annoyed or mad, she would actually laugh about how ridiculous it all sounded.

"Well…" She watched you through the mirror, making eye contact and putting two fingers in front of her mouth with that knowing look. She knew exactly how much you liked that gesture. "Maybe I should start looking for a future and steady girlfriend since this one–"

Now it was your turn to interrupt her. You rolled your eyes dramatically.

"Don't even finish that sentence," you warned, pointing the blush brush in her direction. "It was all a prank, okay?"

"Oh yeah?" she said, turning to face the phone screen with that smirk of hers. "I didn't even notice, baby." She winked at the camera. "Your girl's not as slick as she thinks she is."

..

a/n: hope you guys liked it!!

Tag list: @footy-lover264, @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender, @neutraiise, @milkveed, @browercc, @ace-of-baked, @ikzzzya, @sky-the-trans-guy00, @knight-16, @wosohk04, @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon, @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog

[pineconepie]

CHARACTERS: Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn, Reader/You

WARNINGS/TAGS: Running away, mentions of rituals and sacrifices, adoptive yandads, polyamorous yandads, violence, implied death (no one serious), gender neutral reader, immortality, platonic/parental yandere, infantilization

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Polyamorous dads! <3 I've kind of rushed this near the end, but I've been dealing with some writer's block, so please excuse it ^^; let me know if there are warnings I forgot!

Several years ago, when you were still a child, you had been chosen as a sacrifice to give your village mercy from four powerful Gods, all for a more plentiful harvest. This choice wasn't made willingly on your part.

In fact, you weren't even asked! You were just plucked up from your bed and shoved into the ceremonial temple where offerings were to be taken.

You remember being terrified when you saw the Gods' faces, thinking it was time for your inevitable demise. But that never happened.

Instead, the deities decided you were far too precious to be eaten, and the next thing you knew, they had started raising you as their child.

Autumn has always been the calm and collected one of your parents. He's always there to give you good advice, and amazing food, especially baked goods. It's easy for you to tell him anything and everything.

Winter is quiet most of the time, but is probably the most cuddly. He's always worrying about your comfort, always making sure you've got warm enough clothes on during winter, or tucking you in with extra blankets.

Spring is clingy beyond belief. He hates not being able to be around you, or see you. He cries very easily if he doesn't know where you are. And he loves spending time with you, and gossiping with you.

Summer likes giving piggyback rides, and play fighting with you. He's definitely the most extroverted out of all four of your parents.

Life with them hasn't been too bad over the years, all things considered. Sure, they're all very protective of you, but you know they'll do anything for you at any time.

Now that you're old enough to live away from them though, you feel that things need to change. You want freedom, to have your own life.

The problem is, convincing Autumn, Winter, Spring, and Summer about that is easier said than done.

They like having you all to themselves, after all, so why would they let you leave the nest?

Since Autumn is the easiest to talk to, you nervously approach him as he rakes the yard of leaves. A gust of wind makes some fall back down onto the ground anyway, and you see him sigh deeply, looking quite irritated, until he looks at you.

He immediately softens his gaze at the sight of you, smiling. "Hello, dear! What can I help you with?"

"Um...hey..." You kick at the leaves a bit with your feet, avoiding eye contact with him. "I actually wanna talk with you..." His expression immediately turns worried. "It's nothing that serious! It's just... I think you'd overreact the least."

"I'm listening." Autumn gestures towards one of the garden benches nearby for you to sit, which you do so.

Taking a deep breath first, you try to organize your words. "So... I've been thinking a lot lately..."

"Yes?" Autumn says gently, setting down his rake and sitting next to you. His brows are furrowed, still clearly worried.

"Well, you see, I really appreciate you and everyone else raising me all these years, but..." you hesitate, trying to get the rest of what you need to say out before it hurts his feelings. "I want to be like the other humans, and start living on my own, being more independent... stuff like that."

He blinks slowly as he processes what you just told him. Then suddenly, without saying anything, Autumn stands up, grabs the rake again, and continues gardening.

This... was a surprisingly neutral reaction.

But then again, Autumn never gets mad.

"...Papa? Did you hear me?" you ask cautiously, watching him scoop up the scattered leaves into neat piles.

"I did."

"...and?" Now you're standing, feeling offended by the lack of response.

"And I don't have any response to give."

"You... don't have... any response to give...?" you repeat incredulously. This wasn't going how you wanted it to at all! "Well, I... uh, figured that since you were the most level-headed, that you wouldn't be upset about this!"

"I never said I was angry with you."

His nonchalant attitude makes you frustrated, especially since Autumn still isn't looking at you. "Let me guess: disappointed?"

Autumn finally looks up from what he was doing. "I suppose I'm just... shocked. I can't wrap my head around the fact my child would rather be with humans than with their parents."

"I'm human too," you mutter.

"Yes, but we chose to raise you, keep you safe, nurture you." There's an edge to Autumn's voice now. "You can't possibly want to waste your time among people who didn't even want you in the first place?"

Ouch. He hit you where it hurt, bringing up that you had been a sacrifice.

You glare at your Godly parent. "Don't bring that up, it isn't fair."

"Well, it's true. And now that you're grown, I refuse to lose you. Because I love you dearly," Autumn replies, staring at you intently, the golden sheen in his eyes seeming brighter than normal. "And you will not be leaving us so long as I have something to say about it. That's final."

Before you can protest, he walks back into the house. Feeling annoyed, you head back inside yourself.

If Autumn is saying no, you decide maybe Winter will be more understanding. Just getting permission from one of them should be enough...

You find Winter out on the patio, drinking coffee, as per usual. You're not sure why he does, given he's so tired that even caffeine doesn't make much difference for him, but he seems to enjoy the flavor enough.

When you walk towards him, he gives you a sleepy smile. "Hi, sweetheart."

"Hey, Mom." The way he looks at you, like you're his whole world, almost makes you want to abandon your plan entirely. Almost. "Um, is it okay if we talk? About something sort of... well... serious?"

Winter frowns, looking very worried already, but he nods. "Alright..." As he sets down his mug on the little glass table, his fingers shake, something they always do when he's nervous or uncomfortable. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, nothing like that! I promise," you quickly add on, sitting down across from him.

"That's good," Winter breathes a sigh of relief, calming down some. "Then what's wrong?"

Gazing up at Winter's gentle face, you wonder how exactly to go about telling him, so as not to break his heart. Especially since he tends to internalize things far too much.

But after thinking through how best to phrase it, you end up spitting the truth out, unadulterated. "I want to move out."

"What?" Winter's voice cracks on that simple word, pain flashing across his features.

Ugh, that's such a guilt trip. You look away awkwardly. "It's nothing personal, I just want... freedom."

"How am I supposed to take care of you? How will I protect you?" he asks frantically. "Are you unhappy here? If so, I'll fix whatever's wrong. Anything. Did I do something?"

You groan softly. He's taking this worse than Autumn, but not quite how you predicted it either. "It's not that. Really! But... I'm human. I won't live forever like you guys." When you reach out to gently grasp his hand, he recoils. That stings, but you forge onward, determined to make your point. "I just want to make memories while I'm young, instead of... cooped up in here!"

"It's exactly because of your mortality that makes me even more terrified," Winter rasps. "You shouldn't be doing dangerous things. That's what your parents are supposed to prevent." He swallows thickly before continuing, eyes wet with unshed tears. "What would we do without you?"

"I'm going to die eventually," you argue, to which Winter dramatically gasps. "What? I'm stating a fact!"

"Please don't say such cruel things." His voice is barely above a whisper. "I'd rather we stopped having this conversation altogether, in fact."

"You can't avoid this!" You stand when he does. "Please, just... try to understand!" You grab onto his arm desperately. "Mom, please."

At your sad expression, and your soft begging, Winter wavers some. His gaze shifts to the floor. "Even if the others agree to it, which they won't... I won't allow this. I'm sorry."

You groan, sitting back down and burying your head in your hands.

So he's against the idea as well. Of course.

"Kiddo, what the hell happened?" Summer asks, having just witnessed his husband come inside crying.

"I didn't mean to make him cry," you mutter.

"Of course I know that. He's sensitive like your Mama, but that doesn't change what I asked." He sits down next to you, not looking angry. Just concerned. "Wanna tell me what went on with you two?"

You don't even have the energy to beat around the bush anymore. "I want to move out."

Summer's jaw tenses visibly. He frowns. "Oh, yeah?"

"Papa already said no, so did Mom," you explain tiredly, slumping over the table, feeling defeated already. "And I already know what Mama will say, he's the most predictable." And he probably heard the conversations both times from wherever he is inside the house, crying somewhere with Winter now. "Dad, please tell me you understand."

There's silence. Your father inhales deeply through his nose. "Actually, yeah."

Hope blossoms in your chest. He's going to let you leave? This could be your ticket out!

"But," Summer continues, much to your heartbreak, "under no circumstances am I gonna let that happen."

"...what? You literally just agreed with me!"

"Not quite, sunshine," he says. "I do understand wanting independence and all that stuff. But you're my baby, and you will never stop being my baby. I love you so much. If something happened to you, I'd lose my shit—excuse my French. So, unfortunately, I won't be helping you out."

Just like that, your hope is destroyed. "I only live once, I told Mom this too. I don't want to spend all my life here."

"Kid, please, don't make us sound like we're keeping you locked away," Summer murmurs. "Hey, if you want space, I can help build an extension to the house for you. I'm sure everyone else will prefer that over you wanting to move too."

"No!" you shout, surprising Summer with your sudden shift in attitude. "That isn't the fucking point! You are keeping me locked away!"

"What?"

"I haven't had contact with anybody besides you four since I was, like, eight! It isn't fair!"

The man glares at you. "Don't talk to me like that."

"You aren't my dad! None of you are my mom or dad! You're Gods, and you decided to raise me yourselves because... why?! Because you were lonely? You wanted to play house?!" You stand up suddenly, feeling your heart pounding harder than it ever has in your entire life. "I am sick and tired of it all, Dad!"

You know you're out of line. But you're so frustrated that you can't see straight.

Summer stands up as well, staring directly into your eyes. "(Y/n), watch that tone. I don't want to ground you."

"Ground me then! It's not like I'm allowed to go anywhere anyway!" You stomp inside, and Summer doesn't follow you.

When you slam the door shut, you turn to see Autumn, Winter, and a now crying Spring on the couch. Great, just your luck. They heard everything. Spring especially looks miserable.

"Why are you all here?" you question angrily.

Autumn is the first to speak. "I think you know the answer to that."

Spring is quick to hug you. "Why were you saying those things?! Was I a bad Mama?" he sobs, burying his face in your hair.

Sometimes it isn't obvious they have no clue what parenting is supposed to be like, and moments like these make it show. Spring is definitely the hardest to stay mad at.

Though it hurts to push him away when he's crying, you do it anyway, letting him look at you through tears and horror.

"Because none of this is fair!" you snap at all of them. "I hate feeling like a bird trapped in some gilded cage!"

"This is for your protection, (Y/n)," Autumn sighs. He gets off the couch and tries approaching you cautiously, hands raised like you're some wild animal. "We love you."

"You don't love me. You just want to own me like some kind of pet," you retort. "If you really loved me, you would want me to be happy."

"And we want you to live, too!" Winter snaps. "I'm sorry if that is a higher priority to us than anything else."

"Well, guess what?! I'm gonna die eventually, no matter if I stay here for the rest of my life or not!" You storm off, Spring's louder cries and Winter's softer ones fading out as you run to your bedroom.

...

A few hours later, you come downstairs, having calmed down a bit more, though you're worried about seeing your guardians again.

You shuffle into the kitchen, where you see Autumn preparing lunch. Not seeing the others, you walk up to him sheepishly.

"Hi, Papa."

"Hm? I thought you didn't see any of us that way now." His tone of voice is cutting, but you can tell it's hiding a lot of hurt. That's worse than how harsh he's acting towards you.

You sniffle. "I'm sorry. Please don't be mad."

Autumn immediately stops cooking when he sees you crying. He comes over, wiping your tears away carefully, like you'll break beneath his fingertips. "Oh... pumpkin, don't cry."

"I didn't mean to upset everybody like I did," you choke out through hiccups. "I hate fighting."

He sighs softly, wrapping you in his strong arms, bringing you close enough that you can hear his heartbeat, and laying a kiss upon the top of your head. "Me too."

Soon enough, you apologize to Winter, then Spring, and lastly Summer. Thankfully, each and every one of them forgive you, even if they disagree with what you want.

Yet truth is, you aren't sorry. You just want as little as tension as possible.

...

Ever since that day, you thought about escaping, but were always held back because... well, it's hard to have much time to yourself to even think about it, when there's four overprotective Gods who consider you their baby.

Not to mention if you tried escaping in daylight, there would be no chance you would get far at all. Autumn and Spring are almost always tending to the garden, Summer is always doing yard work, and Winter... well, sometimes he just likes to stand outside and drink his coffee or hot cocoa.

But you begin thinking maybe, just maybe, during the nighttime, you'll have a better chance at getting away.

After all, it's getting to the point where you feel like you'll suffocate if you stay in this place for a second longer. The desire to be independent is stronger than anything you've experienced.

You wait until late at night, when you think your parents are asleep, which takes forever.

Then you slip out of bed, creeping across your bedroom and out into the hallway.

Every step makes a loud creak in the silence.

It's eerie, the sensation of knowing nobody's around except for your guardians, who might wake at any moment.

Once you finally reach the front door, you take one last glance behind you. Maybe you're wondering if you should just turn back.

Everyone would be devastated. Spring and Winter would probably spend the rest of their lives bawling, while Summer and Autumn would tear apart the world until they find you again.

Is it worth the trouble?

...well, yeah. If you don't do something, you might go crazy. These people love you more than life itself, but it's constricting nonetheless.

So, with that final thought, you quietly open the door, slipping outside and closing it once more, not daring to breathe in case you're discovered.

...

That night, you sleep at an inn in the nearest town. It takes hours to walk there, and your legs are tired by the end, but the sense of accomplishment that you managed to escape in the first place keeps you from completely breaking down.

You're pretty sure you know they discovered you're gone, because early in the morning a raging snowstorm happens. It's December, so you can tell Winter is beyond upset.

For all the other villagers' sake, you leave before one of them can tear down the entire town trying to find you.

...

Traveling is hard, you soon discover.

Your money runs out quickly, and without the means to earn more, it's almost impossible to find a place. You miss your comfortable bed. Hell, you miss having food readily available for you whenever you want.

What you wouldn't give to have Autumn's amazing cooking or pastries, or Winter's warm cups of cocoa in this chilly weather.

Unfortunately, you can't afford those luxuries now.

In fact, it gets so difficult to pay for rent at a motel that you end up sleeping outside more often than not.

Around the second week, you notice damage happening around you because of you, no doubt. Each village you go to, you hear how the one you had just left was wiped out. You don't need to guess by who.

Even the land around you is decaying. Everything from trees to animals, all dying. People everywhere are suffering.

And it's all because of you.

...

Almost a full month goes by, and it doesn't stop, but you realize with horror that they'll never just let this go. What's a month to you is nothing to beings with thousands of years worth of existence already lived.

The next village, you finally decide this isn't a battle worth fighting anymore. That it's better to give up than to keep causing everyone around you to suffer.

You begin your trek back home.

...

It's the middle of the night when you arrive. There are lights coming from the windows, indicating someone must be awake still. The rest of the landscape looks dead.

You swallow dryly, raising a hand and knocking. Before you can get too worked up about the situation, the door opens, revealing Spring.

He has dark bags under his red-rimmed eyes, looking more disheveled than he's ever been. Tears are quick to flood his eyes, and he claps a trembling hand over his mouth when he sees you.

Then he yanks you into his arms, cradling you close to his chest.

The entire time, he cries incoherently, and you think you hear apologies amongst his sobbing. Spring only pulls away to hold you at arm's length, taking in your neglected appearance.

"Oh, honey," he gasps out between hyperventilation. "Oh, look at you...!"

Before you can explain, you're led inside, the warmth of the interior making you want to collapse right then and there. Instead, Spring brings you over to the couch, setting you down so gently that it feels like he thinks you're made of glass.

He sits down next to you, rubbing circles along your back. "Does anything hurt?" Spring frets. "Oh, baby, you must've been through so much..."

The pressure becomes too much for you. Overwhelmed with exhaustion, stress, and emotion, you burst into tears. Spring doesn't say anything, just continues trying to comfort you.

"Mama," you sob. "Where's everyone else?"

"They went out looking for you, like they have every single day since you disappeared," Spring explains with a shaky sigh.

You feel awful for what you've done. The self-hatred gnaws at you, refusing to let you go.

He holds you for another hour, before the other three are bursting through the front door.

Each of them looks as equally exhausted and broken as Spring. Like they haven't slept properly in days. It hurts seeing them so miserable because of you.

Yet it's short-lived, because as soon as they all realize you're sitting on the couch with Spring, you're pulled into hugs.

Like with Spring, they seem afraid you'll shatter, like cracked porcelain that could break at any second if dropped, yet durable enough to be squeezed just enough.

They all take turns examining you, fretting over your condition. Autumn immediately heads into the kitchen, probably to make you dinner. Spring leaves as well to get pajamas and new clothing ready for you.

Meanwhile Winter and Summer keep holding you.

"How did you survive?" Winter asks, sniffling. "Oh, sweetheart."

"That doesn't matter," Summer whispers, rocking the three of you back and forth slowly. "All that matters is our kid is okay."

All that you can think about is guilt. Mostly for the endless amount of lives they surely ended looking for you. You wish you thought this through sooner, but a part of you had hoped they'd give up after awhile.

"I'm tired," you mutter.

Winter smiles weakly at that. "Dinner is almost ready. We'll let you sleep right after."

You nod numbly.

...

The next day, you wake up cuddled between Spring and Summer. It's funny, usually they're the first ones to rise.

You hear talking from the kitchen, wriggling your way out of their arms before exiting your bedroom, following the sound of the voices. They belong to Autumn and Winter, coming from the dining room.

"...we've been putting it off for too long. If they could handle these past few days, I know they're ready." Autumn. "Don't you want this, too?"

"You're right. I just..." Winter. "We've never done this before, all we know its a painful and dangerous process. What if..."

"It's going to be fine, Winter." Autumn sounds surprisingly soft. "You know we're more than capable of helping them through it."

As quiet as can be, you listen in further, trying not to interrupt. It's odd to be eavesdropping, but they're clearly discussing something concerning you. How could you resist?

"I know." Winter exhales audibly. "I agree this needs to happen, I just doubt they'll like it."

"Better that than the alternative, don't you think?" Autumn hums.

There's a pause. "Of course I do, dear."

"I'm glad you see reason. They are our child, and as their parents, it's only natural to do this to ensure their safety forevermore."

Wait... what?

Your stomach drops, and you retreat back upstairs before you're found, hoping they didn't hear your presence.

Yet you aren't quite able to shake what you just overheard.

They plan on doing something to you, that much is clear. Though you still can't figure out what, exactly, the action might entail. They've never harmed you before. Never abused you in any way.

So why is this scaring you so badly?

Maybe the fear is irrational, but it still makes you queasy, sick with worry.

Later, when Spring and Summer are awake, you all sit down for breakfast together. Their expressions seem... forced. All four of them are acting differently around you.

They keep sharing looks amongst themselves. As if communicating telepathically.

No words need to be spoken aloud, and you wonder if perhaps they're giving each other confirmation of what they're planning to do.

If they know that you know, they don't bring it up.

In fact, nobody says anything for awhile.

Suddenly, Autumn clears his throat.

"So... (Y/n), honey... today... we have something important planned for you."

"What is it?" you ask hesitantly.

Everyone goes quiet, like looking for words, until Summer picks up where he left. "When you left, everyone was thinking about what you said. About, y'know, dying." He pauses to look at the other's in confirmation. "We don't want that, and I think deep down, you don't, either. And luckily for you, we have a solution. We didn't use it sooner, because it can easily backfire if you aren't old enough... but you are now."

"By doing what?" you press nervously.

It's Spring who speaks next. "Immortality. We can make you a God just like us." He smiles brightly. "Won't that be great? You can stay with us forever, be safe, protected from harm, never have to worry again about—"

You cut him off, feeling yourself panicking. "You want to force me to become like you?"

Spring looks heartbroken. "Are you saying you don't want to? Sweetie, humans would kill for a gift like this!"

"Yeah!" Summer exclaims. "It's a blessing."

"It's wrong!" you snap, earning a horrified look from Spring. "It's my choice to make."

"Why are you treating this like we're punishing you?" Summer says incredulously.

"It feels like it," you retort.

Winter interjects with his own two cents. "We're giving you eternal life. Safety. This is the only way you can live without ending up in danger. There is no downside to this."

"Yes there is," you murmur. "I don't want this!"

You try to scramble away, but suddenly there's vines wrapped around your ankles and wrists. With a cry, you fall to the floor.

"Papa!" you yell, pleading with Autumn to reconsider. To let you go. You pull at the vines fruitlessly.

Winter cups your cheek, guiding your face to meet his gaze. "I'm so sorry, sweetie," he whispers, sounding teary. "But I swear to you, we're doing this in your best interests."

Summer nods. "It'll hurt. A lot. But we'll take care of you afterwards." He reaches down to help lift you, while Winter brushes some of your hair out of your eyes. "Promise."

You whimper as your guardians guide you upstairs to another room, struggling the entire time to escape. But it's no use. You can barely move at all.

Autumn grabs an old book he had prepared, apparently. Its spine is nearly falling apart, like it hasn't been touched in years. You assume the magic for what they're about to cast lies somewhere in those pages.

"You'll be okay," Winter breathes. He holds your head to his chest, crying with you, alongside Spring. "This is only a one-time thing, I promise, honey." His voice breaks.

Spring blinks away his tears. "Please don't hate us," he whispers tearfully. "It hurts us, too."

Autumn opens the book and starts reading the incantation.

Immediately, a sharp jolt rips through your body. Your skin is burning from the inside. Every single nerve is alight with pain. You scream. Sobbing, you beg for the agony to stop, but it doesn't. If anything, the pain just gets worse and worse.

Through your screaming, you barely register Winter holding you tighter, or Autumn's voice breaking throughout his reading of the spell.

The pain is searing hot now, shooting straight through your bones.

"We're almost there," Spring chokes out. "It's okay, baby. We love you so much."

You try to breathe, but you can't get enough air. Your lungs are being ripped to shreds, filling with fire every time they expand.

Everything fades from view after that; black spots dancing across your vision, accompanied by ringing in your ears as unconsciousness claims you once more.

...

When you come to, you're still in pain. It's nowhere near as intense as earlier, but it still feels as if your body had been dipped in hot lava and freezing cold water at the same time. Your thoughts race wildly. The only sensation keeping you tethered to reality is the hand running up and down your back.

Finally, opening your eyes slightly, everything begins returning back to clarity.

Summer smiles at you sadly. "Hey, peanut."

The silly nickname always made you laugh, but now you can only stay still, limp in your dad's arms.

"Sorry you're still hurtin', bud. I know it's not a great feeling." He kisses your forehead. "At least we know that was the worst of it, yeah? Things can only get better from here."

You look up, flinching from the light hitting your eyes. Everything is blurry.

Winter and Autumn look back at you. They're relieved. Both of them smile when they see you staring at them.

"There you are. Welcome back to the waking world, pumpkin," Autumn smiles.

"We were so worried about you," Winter murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of your head.

Spring comes back with a tray of food and drink. When he notices you're awake, his expression morphs into pure joy. "My little angel! Are you alright? Can you speak, sweetie?"

All four Gods seem nervous for whatever response you have, if any at all.

Instead, you open your mouth and croak out: "Water."

Autumn wordlessly gets you a cup filled with ice chips, and guides you to sip from it gingerly.

Despite having your adoring, cooing parents surrounding you, all you feel is betrayal, hurt, and rage. You're too tired to get angry, though, so you just let your head fall against Summer's chest again.

"Go back to sleep, sunshine." Summer rubs your shoulder soothingly. "We gotcha."

The others nod and murmur their agreement.

You should fight it, insist you're fine, but they're right; you're exhausted. With one final huff, you pass out in Summer's arms.

[alicethenobody]

AU concept where Dante and Vergil never separated and so they never become enemies

-Vergil made it back home before the demons got to him

-Eva hid him in the closet with Dante

-Eva grabbed a shotgun and tried to fend off the demon in the house but it snuck up on her, leading to her death.

-Dante clings to Vergil and cries a lot during that moment and says he’s sorry for taking his book. He believes all this bad stuff is happening because he misbehaved because if we know anything about Dante, we know he constantly blames himself for shit that’s not his fault when tragedy strikes.

-The twins survive together, but they know they’re not safe and need to leave their home.

-Because Eva told them to run away and change their names, Dante obviously goes with Tony and Vergil goes with V because he sucks at coming up with names.

-Vergil is very protective of Dante. He believes it’s up to him to protect the last of his family. He still pursues strength but doesn’t sacrifice his humanity to get it, he understands the importance of that in this timeline after his mother saved him and Dante. It was Eva’s love that protected them both, but he also still believes he needs power. Especially because he blames himself for not being able to protect his mother.

-Vergil tries to not let Dante fight any demons at first because he’s worried as shit about losing his brother, but Dante being Dante insists he fight demons too. This caused a bit of conflict but eventually Vergil relents.

-Dante is still the clingy little brother he was in VoV. He wants to protect Vergil just as much as he protects him. He can tell when Vergil is brooding so he bugs him to cheer him up. Just little brother behavior.

-They get taken in by Nell at some point. Vergil pretends he doesn’t like guns because Dante loves them and he wants to be different and that causes some debates between him and Nell. But it’s done out of affection. Dante has popcorn on standby because watching Vergil and Nell argue is peak entertainment to him.

-However, Vergil and Nell will often team up and scold Dante whenever he breaks his guns.

-Vergil seems intimidating but he’s actually just shy and acts somewhat cold to hide it. Dante is way more social so he gets the most job offers, though he’s picky when it involves humans because he hates unnecessary bloodshed. Vergil gets less job offers but isn’t as picky about job types because he knows he needs the money. Still, he also tries to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. He also meets a lot of offers with suspicion like Dante does to make sure they’re not phony or a set up but even moreso.

-Enzo is lowkey terrified of Vergil because he has a bit of a scary look in his eyes when he’s trying to make sure Enzo isn’t offering a suspicious job. That man does NOT wanna screw up. He prefers to approach Vergil if Dante is there too.

-Grue and Dante are still partners, Vergil joins in too on their missions sometimes. Dante kinda wants Vergil to be a little more social so he tries to get his brother and best friend to talk to each other but Vergil is too awkward and doesn’t say a lot.

-Unfortunately Grue, Nell, and Jessica still get killed. But in this universe Dante doesn’t have to cope with it alone.

-Timeskip he eventually meets LiR and they… conceptualize Nero after a few dates. Dante had encouraged Vergil to go on the date annoyingly so because he’d never had a friend besides him before and he knew Vergil felt some kind of connection with her, platonic or romantic.

-Vergil and Dante are in Fortuna to learn more about Sparda. Dante acts like he doesn’t care because “dad left us” but secretly does want to learn more. His feelings about Sparda are just as complicated as canon.

-When Dante asks Vergil if he had protection, Vergil says “I always have the yamato with me in case of an attack.”

-“No you numbskull, I mean a condom.”

-“Oh…”

-“You know you gotta be there for her if—“

-“I know, you fool…!” (Vergil is totally freaking out)

-“Dante. You know I hate to say I agree with you.”

-“Buuuut~?”

-“…”

-“It was worth a shot.”

-They may be close as they were as kids in this AU but they still love to annoy each other.

-I haven’t thought of anything beyond this point, maybe I’ll make another post later.

-But overall, their lives still suck because they lose a lot of loved ones and are constantly in danger but it sucks a little less because they have each other.

-Dante is mostly the same dude but a bit happier, and not pretending to be happy all the time. But still sometimes. He’s more open with his emotions though if it’s Vergil.

-Vergil is very different in this AU. He’s a kinder and more caring person but still struggles a lot socially and might push most people away. He has issues trusting most people considering their dangerous lives. I don’t think he’s all heroic like Dante and most of his goals lie primarily in protecting those important to him, while Dante cares about protecting all of humanity and experiences immense guilt if he can’t save everyone. But he’s not going to do awful things for the sake of getting power and he’s not so cold as to deny an innocent person in danger help. But most of his concern lies in his close ones, kinda like Nero in DMC4 who was mainly worried about Kyrie. Though Nero grew to care more about protecting humanity in 5 I feel.

[creatingblackcharacters]

how can i have a black characters fav animal be a monkey or like being called one and it not have anything to do with the racist term? i used to love calling myself a monkey just cause i love the animal, but i only hated it cause racism has ruined it for me.

i'd either be called racist, or "it's clearly just internalized racism" for wanting to like being called a monkey in a cute nickname way myself. and coming from someone who also would wanna draw african animals as humans, i fear being called racist for having their human designs be black. should i just change their favorite animal? give them a different nickname and for the humanoid animals, make them all white instead to avoid the accusations?

I was gonna delete this because I delete asks that don't capitalize Black (yes, even when you write lowercase any other time), but you got a lot going on here 😅 unfortunately, you're never going to be able to detach the two completely. Like, regardless of what you write, yes people might say "it's racist" or "internalized racism". Even I thought that, reading that you used to call yourself one. 😅 So, sorry there.

Really all you can do is write a story where that nickname is special because of a memory or the moment it was given that made monkeys this Black character's favorite animal. That way we're like oh, okay, that's understandable then. Because otherwise it'll be awkward. I'm still not letting nobody call me a monkey otherwise; that's big Frieza energy (maybe y'all would say Geto in this day and age as an example) and I wouldn't be able to unhear it 🤣 Like your personal experience might be more unique, which is okay!

It'd be easier to draw the Black characters as another type of animal, yes. "Making them all white" is not a solution to racism, no. That's like saying you can avoid misogyny by "never having women characters", rather than being thoughtful when writing them. People have drawn the lions from the Lion King as Black often, and it's fine. I'd also look into Black furries! They would know how to balance this!

[hellfirebarnes]

Slow-Burns Part 6

@crowleythesexydemon

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 7 PART 8

I split this up in several, shorter parts because I know the feeling when you want to read a fic but don't have the time or energy to get through a 10k+ words one. Also if you hate my writing you can just read part 1 and then leave it. Win-win I guess?

Anyway, this is set after Thunderbolts so if you haven't seen it - spoilers I guess? It absolutely does not follow canon, but yeah better to be safe than sorry.

Summary: Bucky has fallen. Hopelessly. And the only thing more hopeless is his team trying to help him get to the end of this slow-burn.

Bucky x fem!SHIELD!reader

1.3K Words

Fluff, ''normal'' violence and descriptions of injuries. For sure out of character stuff, but I am who I am. Your appearence is barely desribed what I can remember, I think your hair and a couple types what clothes you're wearing?

You're referred to as ''Agent'' and ''Sunshine'' in a desperate attempt from me to not use Y/N.

Let me know if there's anything else I should warn about.

Otherwise, enjoy :)

The living room was a mess.

Yelena and John were yelling over the TV. Bob was trying to build what he claimed was a “treat tower” out of Oreos and pretzel sticks. Alexei was playing the Russian national anthem on his phone, loudly, for no reason. Again.

And in the middle of it all were you, cross-legged on the rug, helping Bob reinforce his structure with toothpicks.

Bucky sat on the edge of the couch, trying to look like a person who was totally relaxed and cool and not desperately in love with the woman on the floor surrounded by snacks and chaos.

“Bucky,” you said suddenly, tilting your head back to look at him upside-down. “Wanna help?”

His mouth went dry. Help? With a snack tower? With Bob? While you were smiling at him?

“Sure,” he said. It came out hoarse.

Before he could move, John flopped onto the couch next to him and tossed a ball of socks at you. “You never did laundry last week. Admit it.”

“Your evidence is circumstantial,” you replied, catching the sock and throwing it back. “That could be anybody’s weird smelly sock.”

“Don’t change the subject!”

Bob popped up beside you like a jack-in-the-box. “Hey, you want to test the structural integrity of the top floor?”

“Obviously.”

And just like that, your attention was gone again.

Bucky swallowed hard and sat back defeated. Trying to act normal around you when John and Bob existed was like trying to shout during a hurricane.

Bucky was watching the team train from the training room's observation deck, arms folded, expression unreadable, when Ava appeared beside him.

She didn’t say anything right away - just leaned on the railing and watched Yelena sweep John’s legs out from under him.

Finally, Ava spoke. “You know, for a trained assassin, your poker face sucks.”

Bucky didn’t even flinch. “Not trying to hide anything.”

“Mmm.” She gave him a look. “You’re doing the brooding thing again.”

“I’m always doing the brooding thing.”

She smiled faintly, turning toward him. “You’re not the only one who notices the way you look at her.”

That made him pause.

“She doesn’t,” he said eventually. “Or she does and she’s being kind about it.”

“She’s not being kind,” Ava replied. “She’s being herself. That’s why it matters so much to you.”

He stayed quiet, eyes drifting back down to the floor where you were laughing - completely at ease between John’s antics and Bob’s constant orbit.

“I keep waiting for the right moment,” Bucky admitted. “But they’re always there.”

Ava snorted softly. “Yeah, because they love her. That’s not going away.”

“I know.”

“You think being close to someone like that will be easy?” she asked. “You’re not falling for someone quiet, Bucky. You’re falling for someone who makes chaos feel like a home.”

He blinked at her.

“You want her attention?” Ava said. “You’ll have to earn it. Not with noise. With presence.”

He looked down at you again. And this time, he didn’t just see you. He felt the ache of wanting to be someone you could look at the way you smiled at the rest of the team. The way you smiled at him when no one else was pulling at you.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

Ava gave him a half smile and walked away.

That evening you were grabbing tea when you spotted Bucky leaning at the doorway, casual but clearly unsure of what he was doing there.

“Hey,” you greeted, warm as ever.

“Hey,” he replied. Then, braver this time, he added: “Did the snack tower survive?”

You laughed. “Bob tried to eat it mid-structural test. So… no.”

He grinned. “Sounds about right.”

You stood in silence for a beat, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“I liked seeing you laugh today,” he said, and instantly regretted it.

But you just blinked, then smiled, a little softer than usual. “I like when you try to laugh,” you said. “You’re getting better at it.”

Before he could say anything else, Bob’s voice echoed down the hall: “SUNSHINE! YELENA’S DESTROYING MY NEW OREO BLUEPRINT!”

“Coming!” you called back, already turning. But before you left, you bumped Bucky’s arm lightly with your elbow. “You should’ve joined us.”

He watched you go, heart in his throat. Maybe next time… he would.

Val looked far too smug for this hour.

“All right, sunshine patrol,” she said, clapping her hands once. “You’re headed into the charming little arms of an illegal weapons facility disguised as an olive oil distribution center. Get in, disable the transport grid, recover intel, don’t die. You know, Tuesday.”

You blinked blearily. “Do we at least get actual olive oil?”

“No,” Val said. “You get Bob in cargo pants. That’s your reward.”

Bob raised both fists in the air. “I love cargo pants!”

John groaned into his coffee. “It’s too early for him to be like this.”

Yelena slumped dramatically over the table. “It’s too early for anything.”

Alexei slapped a hand down on the map. “We go in hard. We go in fast. And we protect Sunshine with our lives!”

“Alexei,” Bucky muttered, “we’re all in the same amount of danger.”

“Not emotionally,” Alexei replied, with a very pointed glance toward Bucky.

It was supposed to be clean. Quick.

Instead, you were running down narrow metal walkways, gunfire ricocheting off walls, with Bob carrying the server hard drives over his head like a toddler with a bucket of toys.

“Bob, why-” you started, ducking under a burst of gunfire.

“I don’t want to crush them in my pockets!”

Bucky took out a guard coming up behind you, catching a glimpse of your wild grin through the chaos, hair wind-blown, tactical vest half-unzipped, laughter on your lips even in the heat of it.

You tossed him a flash drive mid-run. “You trust me too much,” you shouted.

“No,” he shouted back, “I just know what you can do!”

John jogged past them both. “God, are you flirting? Now?”

“Always,” you deadpanned, leaping over a pile of crates.

You made it out. Muddy. Bruised. Still laughing.

Alexei had an arm around Bob’s shoulders as they climbed into the jet. “Look at us! Victorious! And clearly, this mission proves that Sunshine and Bucky are soulmates, no?”

Bucky nearly tripped on the ramp.

You blinked. “Wait- what?”

“Absolutely,” Alexei said, entirely unfazed. “You threw a USB across a hallway into his heart!”

“That’s not where I was aiming,” you said, biting back a smile.

Bucky felt his brain short-circuit.

John gave a long-suffering sigh and climbed aboard. “Somebody sedate him.”

On the jet Bucky sat across from you, watching you curl up against the wall, one earbud in, hair mussed. You looked soft in this light. Tired and beautiful and so very real.

Alexei dropped into the seat beside him, nudging his knee. “You know, you’re going to have to do something eventually.”

Bucky didn’t look at him. “What if I mess it up?”

Alexei looked at him, strangely serious for once. “You won’t. Because it is not about being perfect. It’s about being genuine. And you, my brooding friend, are the real thing.”

Bucky glanced at you again. You were mouthing the words to your song, unaware of them.

Alexei leaned in a little closer. “You love her.”

Bucky exhaled. Yeah. He did.

And the terrifying part? It didn’t feel like a falling anymore.

It felt like coming home.

That night, back in his room, Bucky sat on the edge of his bed, staring at a small, wrinkled note you had scrawled on a post-it once during a mission debrief. Just a silly doodle of him next to Bob with the caption: Thunderbrooding & Goldie B.

He’d kept it.

He rubbed a hand over his face, heart pounding. Then stood. Opened a drawer. Pulled out a small, slightly dusty notebook.

And began to make a list.

“Operation: Court Sunshine.”

1. Don’t panic.

2. Talk to her like a person.

3. Make her laugh.

4. Show up.

5. Be someone she can lean on.

6. Ask her on a real date.

7. (Bring snacks.)

8. Try not to die of nerves.

9. Don’t let Bob beat you to it.

[dudeimjustagirll]

The World's Worst Kept Secret

Ao3 Link :p

Sometimes the parents in fanfic piss me off so bad like why are they always abusive😭😭 Anyway guys i love my mom and u should too :)

You perched on the edge of your bed, guitar resting across your lap, absentmindedly plucking at the strings. The melody was familiar, something steady and grounding. But your mind? It was elsewhere.

Mark had been acting weird.

You weren’t the clingy type, but even you had to admit that his sudden shift in behavior was suspicious. One minute, he was your goofy, reliable boyfriend who always made time to hang out, and the next? Constantly busy. Constantly making excuses. And the worst part? They sucked.

"Senior year stress," he'd said when you'd asked him what was going on. But Mark had never struggled with school. If anything, he always found it easy. So why the sudden change?

You hadn't exactly been the most honest person either. Balancing school, hero work, guitar practice, and your relationship was a lot, but you managed. Unlike Mark, you had a damn good reason for being busy. Because when you weren’t acing your classes or jamming out in your room, you were Shockwave—the seismic-powered hero who had been cleaning up the streets for months now.

Something wasn’t adding up.

You picked up your phone. The newest hero on the block—Invincible—had been making waves. Reports about his latest rescue, his impressive strength, and his bright yellow-and-blue suit filled your screen. You squinted at the name.

Invincible? Sounded like something Mark would pick.

You shook the thought away and set your phone down. His excuses sucked.

Senior year stress? Please. Mark had always been a solid student, never once breaking under academic pressure. He even bragged about how easy his classes were. And now, all of a sudden, he was skipping out on your usual hangouts, dodging your calls, and giving half-assed responses when you asked what was wrong.

Were you also technically lying? Yeah, but at least you had a good excuse for being busy.

You needed answers. And the best place to start? The best heroes you knew: Atom Eve and Rex Splode.

“Mark Grayson?” Rex snorted, throwing a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Never heard of him.”

Eve rolled her eyes. “That’s because he goes to my school.” She turned to you, arms crossed. “So, let me get this straight. Your boyfriend—who’s never been stressed about school before—suddenly starts acting weird, dodging your calls, and now there’s a new hero on the scene?”

You nodded. “Exactly.”

Eve pursed her lips. “I mean… it’s possible. But a lot of people have powers, and not all of them become heroes. What makes you so sure it’s him?”

You huffed. “I dunno. A gut feeling?” You leaned forward. “I know him, Eve. And something is up.”

“Look, maybe he just doesn’t wanna tell you he’s struggling,” Rex said. “Maybe he’s, I dunno, failing calculus.”

“He’s not failing calculus,” you shot back. “And I’d know if something was actually wrong.”

Eve sighed. “Okay, let’s say you’re right. What do you do about it?”

You hesitated. “I… I don’t know yet.”

“Then figure it out soon,” Eve said, nudging you lightly. “Secrets don’t stay secret forever.”

When you got home, your mom was already in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot. The scent of spices filled the air, warm and familiar. She glanced up as you walked in, immediately noticing the look on your face.

“Something on your mind?” she asked.

You hesitated. Then, before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “How do you know when someone is hiding something from you?”

Your mom raised a brow. “That’s a loaded question.” She turned off the stove and wiped her hands on a dish towel. “This about Mark?”

You blinked. “How did you—?”

She chuckled. “I know you. And I know that boy causes roughly half of your troubles.” She motioned for you to sit down. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Mark’s been acting weird. Super busy all of a sudden. And then—bam!—new superhero on the block.”

Your mom hummed thoughtfully. “You think he’s this ‘Invincible’?”

“It sounds stupid when you say it out loud.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid.” She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “But if he is, what would that change?”

You frowned. “I… I don’t know.”

Your mom smiled gently. “Sweetheart, if you love him, then you love him—superpowers or not. But secrets can hurt, even if they come from a good place.” She squeezed your hand. “Just be patient. The truth has a way of coming out.”

"Are you sure? I really don't know how much longer I can take this," you said, hunching over a little bit.

Your mom stood up and came around to your side of the table, wrapping her arms around your form. She kissed your forehead, and caressed your cheek, tilting your head so that you were making direct eye contact.

"Darling, he's a teenage boy. How complicated can he really be?"

The truth, as it turned out, came out a few days later.

After school, you decided to swing by the Teen Team base. It wasn’t unusual for you to hang out there, but today, something felt different. Call it instinct, or maybe just stubborn curiosity, but you needed answers.

Before heading inside, you made a stop at a quiet, abandoned rooftop nearby. This was your usual spot—somewhere to think, to breathe, to feel the world beneath your feet. You slipped your guitar strap over your shoulder, fingers settling over the strings as you played a slow, rhythmic tune. Each note sent the tiniest pulses into the ground, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself feel everything—the way the vibrations traveled, the way the city hummed with life below you.

Music had always been your anchor, but it also helped with your control. With a deep breath, you switched focus, resting a palm against the concrete rooftop. Slowly, you sent out a precise tremor, just strong enough to make the cracks in the pavement shift without fully breaking apart. A single exhale, and everything stilled again.

It was a small, controlled display of power—something you’d worked hard to perfect. Unlike raw strength, this was finesse, something deliberate. Anyone could cause an earthquake, but you? You could shape them. Direct them. Command them.

Feeling slightly steadier, you slung the guitar over your back and leapt down, landing lightly before making your way inside the base.

When you arrived, the last person you expected to see was Mark.

He stood next to Eve, still in his suit. He was talking animatedly, his voice familiar yet surreal in this context. You stared, heart pounding, as realization set in.

Mark was Invincible.

He turned and locked eyes with you.

“Oh. Shit.” He said.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you blurted out.

Mark nearly jumped at the sound of your voice, and his jaw nearly hit the floor. “What the hell am I doing here? What the hell are you doing here?”

You pointed at him. “I asked first!”

He pointed right back. “No, I asked louder!”

Eve facepalmed. “Oh my god.”

Your eyes flicked to the yellow and blue suit, the familiar voice, the way he stood. “You’re Invincible?”

Mark’s eyes widened. “You’re Shockwave?”

Silence.

Then, at the exact same time—

“You’ve been lying to me?”

Eve groaned. “I cannot deal with this right now.”

You ran a hand down your face. “Oh my god, I knew something was off about you.”

Mark gestured wildly. “You knew something was off about me? You’ve had powers this whole time and didn’t tell me?”

You crossed your arms. “I had a good reason!”

Mark scoffed. “Oh yeah? And I didn’t?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then…

Well. He had a point.

Mark let out a breath, rubbing his temples. “Okay. Okay. This is a lot.”

“You’re telling me,” you muttered.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, taking it all in. Then, despite everything, you let out a small laugh. “You know what? I can’t even be mad.”

Mark gave you a dry look. “Oh, really?”

You shrugged. “I mean, it’s kinda funny.”

Mark groaned. “Unbelievable.”

You smirked. “Guess we’re both good at keeping secrets.”

He sighed, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah. Guess so.”

Mark shook his head in disbelief. Then, after a pause, he grinned. “Okay, but now I HAVE to see what you can do.” Almost instantly, his face brightened with an idea. “Wait. Can you do the thing?”

You raised a brow. “The thing?”

“The Shockwave thing. The cool ground-shaking, wall-smashing thing. Please? I’ve seen it on TV.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Hmm. I don’t know…”

“Please?”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

You took a step back, planted your foot firmly against the ground, and exhaled. With a controlled motion, you raised your hands, and a wave of kinetic energy pulsed through the air, rattling the entire room. The ground beneath Mark trembled—just enough to make him stumble slightly. A few loose items on the shelves clattered, but nothing broke. It was a flex, but a controlled one.

Mark’s mouth fell open. “That is so cool.”

You smirked. “Told you.”

He grinned. “Okay, wow. My girlfriend’s way cooler than me.”

You laughed. “Glad you finally figured that out.”

Mark ran a hand through his hair, still in awe. Then, suddenly, he grabbed a piece of paper from a nearby table and held it out to you. “Can I have your autograph?”

You burst out laughing. “Are you serious?”

He grinned. “Dead serious. Shockwave is officially my favorite hero.”

“And I wasn’t before?” you jokingly asked, placing a hand on your cheek for dramatic effect.

“Well…you were okay, but…”

“But?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I always thought Black Samson was cooler, until now, that is.”

Shaking your head, you took the paper and scribbled your name across it before handing it back. Mark held it to his chest dramatically. “I’m framing this.”

You rolled your eyes. “Dork.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Yeah, but I’m your dork.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “Yeah, you are.”

And just like that, everything finally made sense.

[slattlicker]

Can we slattlickers be treated with a fic of comforting in insecure big guy pleaseeee 🙏🏼❤️

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * sad sack in a hoodie ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮ imagine: date night gets canceled. your boyfriend spirals. you stay anyway. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

﹒₊✦ a/n: thank you to the sweet anon who asked for a fic about comforting an insecure big guy ♡ this made my heart hurt and flip and sing in all the best ways. there's also a slightly spicier ending for those who craved a bit more,,, cough cough (meee)

warning: soft schlatt. hoodie cuddles. emotional vulnerability under a blanket. enjoy! (๑˘︶˘๑)♡

✧✧✧

you show up around seven, just like you said you would.

keys in your pocket, hoodie pulled over your head, half-expecting to smell garlic or some half-hearted attempt at air freshener when you walk in. instead, it’s quiet. the kind of still that makes you pause with your hand on the doorknob.

no music. no tv.

just the smell of leftover cologne and a half-empty takeout bag on the counter.

“schlatt?” you call, easing your shoes off. “i brought the coupons, by the way. hope you’re ready to lose at air hockey.”

nothing.

you find him in the bedroom, door cracked just enough that it feels like permission. he’s sitting at the edge of the bed, hunched over in his going-out jeans and a hoodie that still has the tag poking out the collar. his hair’s a little damp, like he started getting ready and just… stopped.

you lean against the doorframe.

“i thought we were leaving at seven?”

he looks over. doesn’t smile.

“yeah.”

you wait.

he picks at the string of his hoodie.

“i didn’t feel like being seen.”

it’s quiet again.

you don’t say anything right away. just step in, close the door softly behind you.

when you sit down next to him, he shifts slightly—just enough that your knees touch.

“i just—” he starts, then stops. scrubs a hand down his face. “i don’t know. i got dressed and looked in the mirror and suddenly i felt like this… fucking cartoon.”

you blink.

he keeps going. “like, i know people think i’m this big, loud, funny guy. and yeah, sometimes i am. but today it just felt fake. like if i walked into that barcade or wherever, i’d be forcing it. just some huge, awkward dude trying too hard.”

you look at him. really look.

the hoodie’s stretched around his shoulders. his hands are clenched, knuckles white. his leg’s bouncing, like he can’t figure out if he wants to stay or bolt.

“you don’t have to go,” you say quietly. “we don’t have to do anything.”

he doesn’t answer.

so you shift closer, lean your head against his shoulder.

“you don’t owe me a performance, schlatt. or the world. or anyone.”

he lets out a breath that sounds like it’s been stuck in his chest for hours.

you wait.

after a minute, his hand finds yours.

“do you still wanna hang out?” he asks, voice quieter now. less sure.

you nod. “of course i do.”

“even if i’m a sad sack in a hoodie?”

you smile. “especially if you’re a sad sack in a hoodie.”

✧

you don’t end up going out.

instead, you order fries. you both change into sweats. you sit on the couch with your knees touching and some dumb show playing in the background while he slowly relaxes beside you.

after a while, he shifts, mumbling something like, “move over, lemme lie down before my back fuses to this ikea garbage.”

you scoot down with him until you're both stretched out, sharing one long throw blanket and a rapidly cooling container of fries balanced on the side table and a few books.

he ends up half on top of you. head on your chest. one leg thrown over yours like he’s staking a claim.

you shift, adjusting the blanket. “jesus, your head is heavy,” you groan, mock-strained. “is your skull made of concrete? how are you not tipping over constantly?”

schlatt doesn’t even flinch. “evolution,” he mutters, settling deeper into your chest. “survival of the thickest, biggest head.”

you laugh—full-on, chest-bouncing, which only makes it harder to breathe with him pancaked on top of you.

“get off, you’re gonna collapse my lungs.”

“nope. i live here now,” he says, eyes already half-lidded. “squatter’s rights. this is public domain.”

“you’re a public nuisance.”

“and you’re warm,” he mumbles, voice turning almost petulant. “shut up and pet me.”

you roll your eyes, but your hand is already moving—threading into his hair, slow and steady. the strands are still a little damp from earlier, soft and slightly messy. you drag your nails gently against his scalp.

he lets out a noise. something between a sigh and a hum and a gruff little "mmmph” that you pretend not to hear but immediately file away in your heart forever.

“comfy now, big guy?”

he grunts. “you’re squishy in the right spots. you’re like… optimal ergonomic design.”

you snort. “you’re calling me a human body pillow?”

“i’m calling you my preferred mattress model, yeah.”

you pause. “is this a long-winded way of saying i’ve got good tits?”

“spectacular tits,” he mutters into your shirt, voice muffled and deadpan. “award-winning. five-stars on yelp. all the michelin stars.”

you roll your eyes, but your hand doesn’t stop its lazy rhythm in his hair.

his voice dips after a moment. a little quieter. less joking.

“thanks for not, like… forcing me to snap out of it.”

you pause.

your hand doesn’t stop moving in his hair, but the air feels different now. a little heavier.

“you don’t owe anyone your best all the time,” you murmur. “not even me. you don’t have to perform happy just so i’ll want to be around.”

he doesn’t say anything, but his grip on your waist gets a little tighter.

“some days suck,” you add. “doesn’t make you weak. doesn’t make you hard to love.”

another pause.

your voice softens.

“plus,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips, “it’s kind of nice seeing you like this.”

he shifts a little, peeking up at you with one eyebrow raised. “this what you’re into, huh? big sad guy, questionable fashion sense, with a self-doubt that interrupts date night...?”

you smirk. “i mean… not the worst deal i’ve made.”

“oh, cool. so i rank just above expired gas station sushi.”

“eh. depends on the day...like today, you're probably below.”

he huffs, but there’s no real bite to it. just leans back down, head thudding against your chest again. “unbelievable. i bare my soul and i’m still ranked below raw fish.”

you snort. “well, the sushi’s never bailed on me last-minute.”

he groans. “okay. deserved.”

you hum, dragging your fingers through his hair again, slower this time. “just a little.”

it gets quiet. not awkward. just... settled.

“i really fucking like you,” he says. soft. honest.

you smile into his hair.

“yeah,” you whisper. “i know.”

✧✧✧ add a bit of spice (if you'd like) ✧✧✧

he doesn’t say anything.

but you feel it — the shift.

his fingers tightening just slightly at your waist. the way his breath catches and lingers, warmer now, right against your collarbone.

you glance down. “you good, big guy?”

he doesn’t lift his head. just murmurs, “you keep playing with my hair like that, and i’m gonna start thinking you want something.”

you grin. “what, like a reward for being emotionally available?”

he finally looks up at you. eyes darker now. mouth tilted just enough to show that crooked, cocky smirk he pulls when he’s trying to play it cool and absolutely failing.

“i mean… if you’re offering.”

you hum, thoughtful. trail your fingers down the nape of his neck. “i was gonna save the prize for later.”

“you think i’m in any condition to wait?”

“bold of you to assume you’re in any condition,” you say, squeezing his sides teasingly. “you were just having a hoodie-induced breakdown.”

“and now i’m having a different kind of crisis,” he deadpans.

you laugh — but you lean in.

kiss him once. soft. warm. still smiling against his mouth.

then again. slower.

his hand comes up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek like he’s grounding himself.

you shift beneath him, just enough to let him settle between your legs. his hoodie rides up a little. yours does too.

there’s a tension now — slow and sticky-sweet — like honey dripping toward something inevitable.

he breaks the kiss only to murmur against your skin, voice low and rasped, “you’re sure you want this? like… now? like this?”

your fingers tighten in the fabric of his hoodie, tugging him closer until his nose brushes yours.

“schlatt,” you breathe, eyes locked on his, “i want you.”

his breath hitches. sharp. visceral.

you lean in, slow, deliberate. press your lips to his jaw—once, twice—then lower, teeth grazing the edge of his neck just enough to make him curse under his breath.

“i want you messy,” you murmur, “moody. clingy. desperate.”

your mouth brushes his ear.

“and if you think a hoodie and a little self-loathing are gonna stop me from climbing into your lap and showing you how much? try again.”

he exhales like it hurts, already shifting, hands sliding under your hoodie—warm palms splayed across your waist like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you.

“fuck,” he mutters, half to himself, voice thick, “you always know how to calm me down and rile me up at the same time.”

you grin against his skin. “guess we’re even, then.”

his hands curl tighter at your waist. your thighs bracket his hips now, warm and grounding. neither of you in a rush. just moving slow, deliberate.

“you’re it for me, y’know?” he murmurs. “you’re the only thing that makes it quiet up here.”

he taps his temple, forehead pressed to yours.

you run your fingers through his hair again. lean in close.

“then stay,” you whisper. “just like this. no stage. no audience. no expectations. just us.”

and when you kiss him again—deeper, hungrier—there’s no hesitation from him again.

because this? this is comfort.

you, his. him, yours.

[quintessenceofdust88]

Congratulations on 500 followers 🎊🎉💥 Let that number grow fast and you get another 500 soon!!!

For celebration mpreg i wanna ask the 6 for bucktommy 🙏🫶

Rina my love! Thank youuuu ♥ thank you for all the support you always give me, it means the world, I promise ♥ And ofc! Since you weren't specific on who you wanted to be pregnant, I decided to do it with Tommy, since I already answered another request for this prompt with pregnant Buck. It ended up half humorous and half angsty, and I hope you enjoy it, darling! ♥

Chimney is feeling very, very conflicted right now. And it's all Maddie's fault. Because if his wife hadn't asked him to pick up orange juice and peanut butter, he wouldn't have gone to the grocery store, met Tommy and find himself in his biggest internal conflict since having to choose his starter Pokemon (Bulbasaur. He always chooses Bulbasaur).

The thing is, Chimney hates secrets. He's not good at keeping his own and he definitely hates to know other people's. Which naturally means they land on his lap through no effort of his own, and then he doesn't know what to do with them.

He knows it's not his place. That he should stay out of it. But Buck is his brother-in-law and his friend. And now he knows this… thing. That he's sure Buck would like to know.

The thing is, Chimney ran into Tommy into the supermarket. And while running into Buck's ex (and Chim's old friend) wouldn't be something too out of the ordinary, it's Tommy's… situation. That is giving Chim pause.

He had spotted Tommy on a bench by the parking lot, grocery bags sitting by his side and his complexion paler than usual. Chim's paramedic instincts had kicked in and, before he even realized it, he had rushed to Tommy's side.

"Tommy? You alright?", he asked, reaching for Tommy's wrist to take his pulse. And that's when he saw it.

Tommy's prominent bump straining against his black T-shirt. Big enough that Chim couldn't mistake it for anything other than a baby bump, but definitely not big enough to have happened before his and Buck's break-up. Well, shit. "Tommy. Are you...?" Chim didn't have the nerve to finish the question, cause he couldn't bring that kind of responsibility upon himself. Maybe, he thought irrationally, Tommy would deny it, and then Chim wouldn't have to decide if he should tell Buck or not.

"Of course I'm pregnant, Howie, can't you see that? You're supposed to be a paramedic, aren't you?", Tommy quipped, that trademark bitchy look taking over his features, and Chim felt a faint blush in his cheek. "Well, I didn't want to be rude and assume!", he defended himself, and wisely tried to change the subject. "Are you okay, though? Any pain or discomfort? Do you need me to call... someone?" Chim finished lamely, because he hasn't gotten the faintest idea of who he should call for Tommy.

"We're fine, Howie", Tommy said, more softly now, and even gave Chim a small smile as he got up, a small grimace taking over his face as he placed a hand on his bump. "I gotta get going, thought, it's clear someone wants to go home soon. See you around?"

And then he was gone before Chimney could fully absorb what had just happened, taking his groceries and Chimney's inner peace with him.

Which brings him back to now that his groceries are done and he's staring at a red traffic light and wondering what to do.

He shouldn't tell Buck, is the thing. Because it's none of his business, and he and Tommy have been broken up for longer than they were together at this point. Objectively, it shouldn't even matter to Buck if Tommy moved on and is having a baby with someone else.

Except Chim was there. He knows how much it hurt Buck to lose Tommy. He remembers the baking; he misses the baking, if he's honest, although he definitely doesn't miss the kicked puppy look that usually came with the baked goods.

No, Chimney might make jokes, but the truth is, he cares a lot about his golden retriever of a brother-in-law, and he doesn't want to see Buck suffer. He's had a rough year as it is; they all have. So to bring him the news that Tommy moved on so completely? It's not something Chimney is particularly looking forward to doing.

But is he willing to let Buck find out on his own? Wouldn't that be so much worse for a guy?

In the end, that's the thought that makes Chim decide. Before he can give himself too much time to think about it, he's making his way to the apartment Buck has been renting from Ravi. He has only been to the place once or twice at this point, and not even Maddie has been there more often as far as he knows; with the kids, it's just easier for Buck to visit them than the other way around. Yet, Chim has memorized the route, and is not a struggle to get there. If Chimney wasn't in such a hurry and so worried about how his brother-in-law would take the news, he would maybe have noticed the familiar truck parked outside. The same truck Tommy entered back then, in the supermarket.

With a deep sigh, Chim rings the doorbell, already rehearsing a 'Buck, I know you might not like to hear this, but' speech on his mind. He is not prepared for the sight that meets him.

Because it's Tommy who opens the door. Tommy who's still as pregnant as when Chim saw him half an hour ago. Tommy who doesn't look surprised to see Chim there; in fact, he looks a tad bit smug.

"Long time no see, Howie" The bastard says with a smirk on his face, and Chim's not sure he'll ever be able to pick up his jaw from the floor. That's when he spots Buck, who's coming towards him in the same hoodie Chim just saw in Tommy a while ago, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Hey, Chim, Tommy was just filling me in on your meeting earlier today", he says, as casual as the weather.

"Will someone fill me in?!" He yells, looking between the two of them. "Are you guys back together?!"

"For about a month, yeah", Buck says, and even now he can't keep the smile out of his face, the utter dork. "At first we tried to stay just friends, thought it'd be better for the baby, but it didn't quite work out"

Chimney blinks; taken aback is an understatement. "A month?!" "Five weeks, to be completely accurate", Tommy quips as Buck wraps an arm around him, the two of them the complete image of domestic bliss Chim doesn't know what to do with.

"Yeah, right, okay", he says, trying to gather his thoughts. "And were you planning on telling us at some point before the baby was born?!" "Well, yeah, but I've only told Evan about the baby when the first trimester was done, and then we were figuring out our situation before talking to you guys", Tommy shrugs, and Buck nods, then gives Chim an uncharacteristically hard look.

"And to be fair", Buck adds softly. "I would have told you if you had asked."

Chim wants to refute that. He wants to say Buck is being unfair, but he knows he's not. Between his new captain position, two kids, and grieving Bobby, he doesn't remember the last time he sat down to actually catch up with Buck and ask him what's going on in his life.

"Does Maddie know?", he asks, and Buck smiles.

"Not yet. I want to do a whole 'you're going to be an aunt' announcement, so don't you go telling her" He says in warning, and Chim groans. "Fine", he drawls. "But don't take too long or I might explode"

"Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?" Tommy chuckles. "Not before you get to meet your niece at least" Chim's heart skips a beat and, before he knows it, there's a huge smile taking over his face.

"M-my niece?" He stutters, and Buck smiles more widely than Chim has seen ever since they lost Bobby. Maybe ever, if he's honest with himsef.

"Yeah, uncle Howie, you're having a niece" He says proudly, placing a hand on Tommy's bump.

Tommy places his own hand over Buck's and gives it a gentle squeeze. Looking at that, Chimney can't be mad at them for keeping their secret. He can't be mad at them at all, really. As far as the surprises of this year, this was one of the best ones by far. --

There you go, my love, I hope you enjoy it! It got wayyy longer than I was expecting, and I'm not sure I like the ending hehe but here it is ♥ Ily and thank you for the prompt!

[inkh3art]

ᒍᑌՏT ᗩ ᒍᑌՏT ᗩ ᗰᑌՏᗴ??

After a messy breakup, a K-pop heartthrob swipes right on a tagged post and finds his next muse—his ex’s friend. She’s a sassy yet vulnerable girl who falls for his charm, but he’s only in it for the inspiration. As sparks fly, heartbreak, jealousy, and late-night confessions blur the lines between art and love. Will she be just another verse in his song, or can she make him see her as more?

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝖩𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗄𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗑 𝖲𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺

𝗥𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝖤𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗍

𝖦𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾/𝖳𝗈𝗉𝗂𝖼:𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵,𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘺, 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, Player, Redflag, One sided love

⚠️ Content Warning:

This story contains mature themes, including explicit sexual content (smut), strong language, angst, emotional manipulation, and themes of heartbreak. Reader discretion is advised.

©️by 1nkh3art

☾︎𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫2: 𝐽𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑘𝑜𝑜𝑘☀︎︎

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Jimin practically yelled, his hands raking through his hair in frustration. I leaned back against the couch, my arms crossed, my tone flat. "Like I said, I don't like her," I muttered, my voice edged in a quiet indifference. " See at as stress relief and I need inspiration for my album."

She is just a muse. That's all it is.

It wouldn't be on me if she fell. It would be on her to care for wounds after the fall.

Jimin just stared at me, eyes wide, words stuck in his throat. "This 'stress relief' is my fucking friend!" I shrugged, eyes flat. "I did it with Ivelle. What's different now? Seanna is just another name on the list." Jimin stared at me like he no longer recognized me. Like he didn’t understand the lines I was willing to cross. But I didn’t owe him anything. Or her. I don't know what he expected from me - confession for 'love'? A change of heart?

But I wasn't going to give him that, I never did.

"It's not like you're going to tell her," I muttered a smirk on my face as I played with my lip ring. He scoffed, stepping back like he'd witnessed someone get possessed. He wouldn't tell Seanna bro code before whatever code he had with Seanna. "You're fucked up." He murmured in a low sing-song tone, shaking his head looking away avoiding my gaze. I wouldn't deny it, I am fucked up and I loved it more than I enjoyed a good game."

I stared at Seannas text, deciding whether I should let her in easily or make her work for it.

My phone lit up with a new notification just as Jimin stormed out of my apartment, slamming the door shut behind him. I barely flinched. Instead, I glanced at the screen - and there it was: Seannas name. A smirk curled at my lips.

"Are you busy?" The text read.

"No. Wanna come over?" I replied.

I needed the relief- our last time together was a few weeks ago.

"Why not?" She shot back.

I left her on read, smirking to myself and headed to the bathroom. I stripped down, letting the hot water run until the steam fogged up the mirror and windows. Grabbing my toothbrush, I brushed my teeth then stepped into the shower, letting the water graze my skin.

I waited for her in black sweats and a hoodie as I sprawled across the couch. When the doorbell rang, I jumped up and strode towards the door.

My eyes widened for a spilt second - then narrowed. Ivelle stood there in a short black dress, eyes bright with desperate hope.

"Why are you here?" I ask my tone flat and bored. Not in the mood for her drama tonight. She stepped closer, her hand sliding down my chest. I stared at her, annoyance sharp in my gaze. Gripping her wrist, I glared at her. "Leave", I mumbled shoving her away from me, disgust evident in my tone.

"Why are you doing this, Jungkook? I love you - I know you do too." I couldn't help the laugh that slipped out - dry, cold, and sharp. "You're delusional," I scoffed. "Now leave before I call security." Tears welled in her eyes I didn’t flinch. I slammed the door in her face and slowly walked back inside. Pulling out my phone I called security. "Don't ever let her in," I said, irritation prickling in my voice.

Thirty minutes passed till the doorbell rang again. I walked over and opened the door.

There she was, Seanna, in loose jeans and a corset top-casual yet sexy. I bit my lip appreciating the way she looked, my eyes tracing her curves. She didn't blush. Instead, she confidently touched my shoulder before striding in, slipping off her heels and making her way towards the lounge like she owned the place.

"Well, make yourself at home," I muttered sarcasm dripping from my tone. She smirked, mischief dancing in her eyes. "Don't mind if I do," she shot back, her tone matching mine. I sat down next to her pulling her legs on my lap. "So how was your day?" I ask feigning interest. She babbled about some drama with Ava or work or whatever - honestly, I didn’t care, but it didn’t bother me either. Eventually, she slid her legs off my lap and moved to sit on me instead, her eyes locked on mine her confidence evident as my hands gripped her ass.

"Anyways, that's not why I'm here," she muttered as she kissed my jaw. I cocked my head back giving her access to my neck. She slowly kissed my neck moving my hood to the side as she marked me by my collarbone. She slowly moved her hips against mine as she kissed my neck. "Fuck," I muttered as I pulled her closer wanting more friction. She stopped and held my chin making me look into her eyes. "Did I say you could touch me?" She muttered her tone dark and her nails dug into my jaw. I never liked submitting but with her talking to me like that I couldn't help but want to. "No," I replied moving my hands from her waist and keeping them to myself and she got off me.

"Do you have ice cream?" she asked walking towards the kitchen. "I'm craving it," she added to her previous question. "Yes I do," I reply still hot and bothered as I watch her open the freezer and take out the ice cream tub. She dished the ice cream in a small dessert glass bowl. She put the tub back in the freezer before walking back towards me. She sat next to me eating the ice cream before I could talk she looked at me. "Go to your room, strip yourself down and lay on the bed," she ordered me as she slowly ate.

I got up and walked to my bedroom. Once inside, I stripped myself down and stretched out on the bed, sprawled across the sheets, my eyes fixed on the door, wondering when she’d come and what she’d do.The door clicked open, and she walked in, the ice cream bowl still in her hand.

“You follow instructions very well,” she muttered, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she crawled onto the bed, kneeling next to me.She scooped out some ice cream and placed it on my nipple. I gasped, the coldness making me shiver.She repeated the action on my other nipple, her smirk growing as she watched the struggle in my eyes.

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she scooped another portion and placed it on my cock. I groaned, gripping the sheets tightly.

I’m going to fuck her senseless after this, I thought, and maybe even break her legs while I’m at it.

She watched me catch my breath, finishing her ice cream and then placing the empty bowl on the nightstand.

“I'm done,” she muttered, that same teasing glint in her eyes.

I grabbed her roughly, pulling her onto the bed so she was sprawled face down across my lap. I could feel her body tense under my touch, the anticipation thick between us.

With a sudden, sharp smack, I brought my hand down on her ass, the sound cracking through the room. She yelped, her body arching, and I felt her wetness soaking her lingerie.

“Such a pretty little toy,” I growled, my fingers sliding down, slipping under the lace and between her folds. I teased her slowly at first, letting my fingers circle her clit, and then plunged two fingers inside her, curling them just right. Her moans grew louder, her body trembling as I worked her open.Another finger joined the others, stretching her further. She gripped the sheets, her breath ragged as her thighs quivered. I felt her tightening around me, her walls clenching with every desperate gasp.

But just as she was on the brink of release, I pulled my fingers out, leaving her empty and wanting

She whimpered, lifting her head, her eyes hazy. “Why did you stop? I was so close,” she pleaded, her lips parted, chest heaving.

I glared at her, my hand shooting out to wrap around her throat, forcing her to look at me. “You know very well, sweetheart, I hate it when you question me. Or complain.”

Her eyes rolled, a defiant smirk curling her lips, as if daring me to break her. That look only made me want to ruin her more.

“Let’s fix that attitude,” I hissed.

I got off the bed and went to my suit jacket, fishing out a silk tie. I secured her wrists to the headboard, binding them tightly. She pulled against the restraints, but I made sure there was no slack.

Then I reached for another tie, using it to spread her legs open wide. I fastened each ankle to the posts, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. Her breathing hitched, a mixture of fear and thrill lighting her eyes.

From the nightstand, I picked up a small whip, testing its weight in my hand. It wasn’t harsh enough to bruise—just enough to sting. I struck her thigh lightly, and she gasped, the sound sweet music to my ears.

Her chest heaved, her nipples hard under the thin fabric of her lingerie. I let my fingers trail up her stomach, circling her breast, teasing her nipple as she bit her lip, eyes rolling back.

“Keep it down,” I muttered, voice low and dangerous, before tossing the whip aside.Lowering myself between her thighs, I breathed in her scent, savoring the anticipation on her face.“Don’t cum,” I warned, my voice dark and demanding, before my tongue met her clit, flicking and circling, the slow, deliberate strokes designed to drive her insane.

She moaned, her body straining against the ties, desperate for more. My fingers slid back inside her, curling expertly as I continued to lick, the combination enough to push her to the edge.Her moans grew louder, a high, pleading whine as she teetered on the brink of release. I pulled away just as her orgasm threatened to break, leaving her trembling and gasping.

“Didn’t I say you couldn’t cum?” I teased, my fingers slipping out as I smirked up at her.

She glared at me through half-lidded eyes, her lips parted in a desperate plea.

“Please,” she whispered, voice hoarse.

I tilted my head, savoring the sight of her—tied up, panting, desperate.

“Oh, I’m not finished with you yet,” I murmured, licking my lips, ready to make her beg. I untied her wrists, letting the red marks from the restraints fade slowly. She shifted on the bed, her breathing ragged, her body trembling with anticipation.

Positioning myself between her legs, I slapped my cock against her dripping pussy, the sound echoing in the room as she cried out. My lips twisted into a smirk as I slowly pushed inside her, groaning at how tight she was, her heat enveloping me like a vice. “Fuck,” I hissed, the pleasure overwhelming as I bottomed out.

I grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head as I began to move with an inhuman speed, each thrust harder than the last. Her screams filled the room, my name the only thing on her lips.

“Where’s that attitude now, princess?” I growled, not faltering in my pace as I pounded into her. She arched her back, her legs trembling, her eyes wild with pleasure.

Just as she was about to come, I pulled out, flipping her over with a rough yank. “Chest down, ass up,” I ordered, my hand trailing down her spine tattoo, my fingers lingering on the design.

“And make use of the headboard,” I said, gripping myself, rubbing the tip against her entrance before slamming into her so hard she lurched forward, hands bracing on the headboard for support. I set a brutal pace, my thrusts relentless, pushing her hips down to keep her steady as her legs began to shake uncontrollably.

I leaned forward, one hand wrapping tightly around her throat, the other moving furiously on her clit, driving her insane. Her moans turned to desperate cries, her hips jerking with every thrust.

Pulling out again, I flipped her back over, her legs draping over my shoulders as I slid inside her with a slow, deep thrust that made her gasp. I watched her face, her eyes fluttering closed. “Keep those eyes on me,” I ordered, my voice low and dangerous, picking up the pace. My thighs slammed into hers as I chased my release, the pleasure building like an inferno.

Her walls clamped down on me as she came hard, screaming my name, her body arching beneath me. I didn’t stop, milking her tightness for every drop of pleasure.Removing her legs from my shoulders, I leaned down, thrusting into her with unrelenting force, my lips at her ear.

“Fuck—” I moaned, my voice rough as I finally came, spilling inside her, my body shuddering with the intensity. I didn’t stop, rolling my hips, riding out every last wave of pleasure as I moaned into her ear. I stayed inside her for a while, savoring the warmth and the closeness, before finally pulling out. “You should go pee,” I muttered, falling back onto the bed with a satisfied sigh.

She got off the bed without a word, heading toward the adjoining bathroom. I could hear the faint sound of water running as she started the shower. I exhaled, a lazy grin on my face as I gathered the sweat-soaked sheets, tossing them into the laundry basket and replacing them with clean ones.

Wrapping a towel around my hips, I walked past the bathroom door, catching a glimpse of her silhouette behind the steamed glass. She looked good—too good for a girl I’d never call my own.

I took my time in the shower, letting the water wash away the sweat and the tension. After moisturizing and slipping into fresh clothes, I stepped out to find her dressed, her hair slightly damp and her eyes carefully avoiding mine. She looked up as I approached, and I leaned in, pressing a casual kiss to the side of her neck. She shivered under my touch, but when she turned her head, aiming for my lips, I pulled away before she could.

Embarrassment flickered in her gaze. She quickly looked away, smoothing down her hair, trying to hide the sting in her eyes. I pretended not to notice, brushing it off with practiced ease.

“Later, sweetheart,” I murmured, watching as she gathered her things and leave the apartment.

Love is just a word - a coverup for one's selfishness and evil. I wouldn't waste it on her. She is nothing more than a muse.

[aurorasdaybreak]

close to you, a late night playlist

summary: it’s been a while since you’ve been back in linkon city - staying in one place is hard when you’re one of the most celebrated pediatricians of your time, after all. your constant movement is disrupted when an unexpected invitation to be an honorary professor at linkon university has you packing your bags and settling into a new apartment, excited to create new memories in the city you once called home.  there’s just one problem with your carefully laid-out plans, though: a well-known cardiac surgeon who’s going to be co-teaching some classes with you - the same cardiac surgeon who just so happens to be your ex-fiancé. info: cardiac surgeon!zayne x afab!pediatric surgeon!reader | exes to coworkers to lovers | angst, fluff, smut | 24k words author's note: haha heeeeey everybody :')) after months and months of writing and fighting writer's block, i've finished the zayne fic™!! she's a labor of love and still going through edits so i wanted to make a lil fic teaser/playlist kind of thing :')) i listen to a lot of music when i write (i tend to form plots if i listen to a song on repeat if you couldn't tell) so this just fits!! with all that being said, close to you is scheduled to release this upcoming saturday @ around noon time PST. i hope you guys enjoy!! if you wanna leave a little thought or be tagged, drop an ask and i'll get to you :)

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ afterglow by taylor swift ⤷ "why'd i have to break what i love so much?"

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ close to you by gracie abrams ⤷ "break my heart and start a fire, you got me overnight/just let me be close to you"

“Who am I co-teaching with?” Zayne exhales sharply, as if he’d been waiting for you to finally prod at the snoring bear in the corner of the room. Dr. Chung looks at you with mild surprise, eyes flickering between the two of your bodies before laughing once more. “Why, ____, did Zayne not tell you? You two are going to be co-professors!” Fuck…you’re going to be teaching with Zayne?!

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ delicate by taylor swift ⤷ "sometimes i wonder when you sleep, are you ever dreaming of me?"

“I’m glad you’re here now,” you reply. You playfully bump his shoulder, your smile widening when you see the corners of his lips tilt up. “Now you get to relax!” “It’s hard for me to relax.” His head dips down lower so his lips are right by your ear, and you feel yourself shiver at the way his mouth barely brushes your skin. Eyes threatening to slip shut, you reach up and wrap your fingers around his bicep - earning yourself a low groan and another thrilling sensation racing up your spine.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ fortunate change by joshua of seventeen ⤷ [trans.] "more vivid than yesterday/warmer than yesterday/to me you're my fortunate change."

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ is this love (piano ver.) by xg ⤷ "i don't know if it's meant to be/but it feels like everything."

“It’s not on you, ____.” Yvonne’s voice is firm and she squeezes your hand tightly as she bumps you lightly with her shoulder. “It was a mutual agreement to keep the engagement private and you guys were so happy. Transferring to a different hospital was reasonable and you did it so you could move on - no one faults you for that, ____.” You freeze slightly when you hear move on - a phrase loaded with implications and uncharted feelings. Have you moved on?

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ multo by cup of joe ⤷ [trans.] "even if i can't see anything, i still feel your touch in the dark."

Your hand reaches up before you can stop it, and you rest your palm against his own hand. Your breath trembles, but you still find it in yourself to tap your pointer finger three times: a signal only the two of you know. His eyes widen, but his thumb taps against your bottom lip once…twice…

[epiphainie]

.

[demie90s]

Can we get some Jackie young x rookie reader where reader is like hyper but anxious and Jackie helps her calm down? Can be either established relationship or that’s what leads to them falling in love, up to you!

Jackie Young x fem!reader

Settle Me

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: I talk fast, move faster, and overthink everything. Jackie doesn’t say much—but when she looks at me, I swear the world slows down.

Warnings: Anxiety, emotional comfort, soft tension, falling in love slowly

Word count: ~ 0.4k

I talk too fast when I’m nervous. Which is almost always. And Jackie—Jackie just breathes. She exists like still water, smooth and steady, never rushing, never raising her voice unless it’s to call out a screen or tell someone to lock in. The first time I met her, I said three sentences before she even said hi. I was halfway through telling her I wasn’t sure if my jersey was tucked in right when she just gave me that soft nod, looked me right in the eye, and said, “You’re good.”

And somehow, I believed her.

I don’t think anyone would’ve paired us together on paper. I’m hyper, twitchy, always buzzing. My thoughts move faster than my feet, and my feet move fast as hell. I run my mouth on the court, bounce between teammates during shootaround, crack jokes in the huddle even when we’re down by fifteen. Jackie? Jackie’s the quiet one. The calm. Icewater eyes. Every word deliberate, every movement grounded.

But she never made me feel like too much. If anything, she kept me steady.

After our third game, I was pacing the locker room, full of post-game adrenaline, spiraling over a missed free throw I’d had in the second quarter. Everyone else was showering, changing, but I was ranting about arc angles and wrist flicks. Jackie walked up behind me with a water bottle and just handed it to me like she’d been listening the whole time.

I stopped mid-rant, took it from her, and blinked.

“You always do that?” I asked.

“What?”

“Know when to save me from myself?”

She smiled, barely. “Only when I know you’ll listen.”

The next time I had a bad game, I ended up sitting on the practice court alone, hoodie over my head. I didn’t want to cry. I just wanted to scream into my sleeves. I thought I was alone until Jackie walked over, sat down beside me, and said, “You don’t have to be perfect every night.”

I didn’t say anything. I just leaned into her shoulder.

That became a thing. Me leaning. Her holding. Not saying much. Just letting me burn out without judging it.

One night after a long-ass road trip, I was venting in the hotel hallway at like midnight, going off about a play I’d fumbled, pacing in my socks. Jackie leaned against the wall, arms crossed, listening like she always did. When I finally stopped to breathe, she looked me dead in the face and said, “You did fine. But even if you didn’t—I’d still be here.”

I blinked.

“Wifey,” I mumbled under my breath. Then louder, “Like actually. You’re—oh my god, you just… that’s real wife behavior.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I said. “We might as well be married at this point. Like what you just did? That’s spouse-level emotional regulation. That was marriage material.”

She smiled, still calm, still unbothered.

“Wait,” I added, “Hold on—I don’t wanna be the husband. I’d be the chaotic aunt who shows up at the reception in glitter boots.”

Jackie laughed then. Real soft. Real low. “I’ll be the calm one,” she said.

We stayed in that hallway a little too long.

Eventually, I looked at her and whispered, “You’re kinda falling for me, huh?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just slid her hand into mine and said, “I already did.”

And I—finally—shut up.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @zizi-bee-yapping @kaliblazin @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey

[pagesinmylife]

I’ve had this blog for almost ten years now and let me tell you I have NO CLUE what’s going on. I’m 90% sure most of my followers are porn blogs, I don’t know who my mutuals are (if I have any), half the people I follow haven’t posted in years and out of the ones still posting, a quarter are posting for fandoms I’ve never interacted with before

[dsm-v]

my boyfriend who I have gone on one date with who I want to marry texted me and I’m gonna look at it in the morning I said I want to hold hands with him. maybe he is saying we are not a good fit and that would be okay too