#like I kinda have a feel for what the dynamic is like between each side of that triangle but I want to lock the three of them together

[voidpvllman]

freaks • bob reynolds

summary: the early days of a new team being assembled: the settling, the fighting, the dysfunctional dynamics that lead into a family, and maybe even something more. bob is desperate and pining, too awkward to say anything, or getting interrupted every time he tries or finally talks himself into it. you are angry at the world, now once again fighting for people that turned on you after you lost control. stuck living with people you barely tolerate, eventually like, and could maybe even love. training and fighting, being pushed to get your powers back, after swearing to never use them again; all while fighting off sneaking feelings that feel a lot like love.

content: angst, jealousy, void (almost) and sentry appearances! pining, anger issues, mention of self harm, self hatred, bpd, traumatic pasts, fluff, kinda family dynamic, kissing, slow burn, sexual themes but not explicit, desperation, a little makeout

[ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ʰᵃˢ ᵖᵒʷᵉʳˢ ˢᶦᵐᶦˡᵃʳ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵃⁿᵍ ᶜʰᶦ: ˢᵏᶦˡˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵐᵘˡᵗᶦᵖˡᵉ ᵐᵃʳᵗᶦᵃˡ ᵃʳᵗˢ, ˢʷᵒʳᵈ, ᵇᵒʷˢᵗᵃᶠᶠ, ᵉᶜᵗ; ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃⁿᵈ, ᵃˡᵒⁿᵍ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵃᶦʳ ᵐᵃⁿᶦᵖᵘˡᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ

yelena flipped you over on the mat; leg wrapped over your hip, laughing as she pinned your face to the ground. you groaned, slapping the mat in defeat, “this is pointless! i’m not getting any better.” you hated how hard you were breathing; you hated how easily you had been beaten again. “don’t be so hard on yourself… most people can’t beat me. especially when you’re out of practice.” you glared at her at her subtle brag, “i’m just saying, you have only been training again for two weeks.” “and i don’t think i’m getting any better, yelena! i just- i don’t.. succeed at anything anymore. i can’t do anything…” yelena sighed, watching you sadly, “i know we haven’t known each other long… but from what i have seen, no one else here can handle a sword? and that’s pretty damn cool. you are our best brains, you keep us all on schedule and map out our missions and make the plans-“ “i don’t know what you saw on my file, yelena, but… i don’t even think i could lift a sword anymore. i haven’t… i’m retired.” you exhaled, laying flat out on the mat, “i got someone hurt, i lost control… ever since, it’s like everything is just… gone.” yelena watched you sadly, “that was ten years ago! you were a child...” you just shook your head, “i think i’m done for the day. i- i don’t think i’m ready. i may not ever be.” you crossed the gym floor, feeling much angrier and more frustrated than you had before you started. you ignored the grunts and swears coming from the mat, now that two competent people were fighting. you glanced over your shoulder as bucky sent walker flipping to the ground. john groaned, holding his ribs as he sat up, “damn,” “sorry.” bucky shrugged, “you’re lighter than you look.”

you turned your attention to the punching bag in front of you, taking all of your anger and frustration out in a punch. it felt good to hit something that didn’t fight back or send you straight onto your back. you felt a low growl come from your throat and suddenly all the frustration and anger became the bag’s issue. you relentlessly punched out, fists stinging as you made contact over and over. you ended up screaming at it, beating at it until you saw blood on the bag. you looked down at your knuckles; skin peeled back, blood dripping between your fingers. “damn it.” you should have wrapped your knuckles, you should have warmed up more. there was a cramp in your side, tears blurring your vision- from the pain in your knuckles or frustration, you weren’t sure but you just felt embarrassed now. the others were looking at you from across the room, concerned, worried, maybe judging slightly.

you felt anger surge in you again as you turned away, storming back to your bag. your knuckles throbbed, stinging as the open air tickled against the open skin. you swore quietly, hating how useless you felt, hating how pathetic you looked against the rest of the team, hating yourself for how you had let yourself get this way. “hey,” you jumped, pulled from your thoughts by the shy voice, “are you okay?” you held your breath, pushing away the pain and anger as glanced to bob over your shoulder, “fine,” you always made sure you kept your tone from reflecting your emotions, “i’m okay. just frustrated… and angry and…” you zipped your gym back up a little too roughly, cursing as the zipper tab snapped off. “damn it!” bob tilted his head slightly, eyeing you sadly, “are- are you sure you’re okay?” you sighed, finally looking up to to meet his gaze, “i’m just not having the best day, alright?” your tone sounded impatient, but there was still that hint of softness. “oh…” bob deflated just slightly at your change in tone, “sorry…” you rubbed your face, now angry at yourself for being cold to the one person here that didn’t push you in training, didn’t demand you try harder, didn’t wait for you to be better again. “i’m sorry. i- i don’t mean to be a bitch, i-“ bob looked up at you, eyes widening slightly; he wasn’t used to the others apologizing for raising their voices or snapping when he got in their way. “you aren’t-!” he had said it a little too quickly, “you… i don’t think you’re a-…” bob ducked his head slightly, shyly, as if he didn’t want to say the word. you smiled just slightly to yourself; he was charming, in his shy, awkward ways. “well, thank you. it seems you’re the only one that thinks that…” you hauled your bag over your shoulder. bob was muttering something to himself, before his voice finally came out loud enough to hear, shaking slightly, “hey, would you ever want to go—“

“nice job on the bag, time bomb!”

you tensed at the nickname, snapping your head to look at walker; he meant it playfully, but god, the anger that spiked through you made your hands shake. bucky looked at you darkly, sending a warning glare over to john, shaking his head just barely. “thanks walker, i was picturing your face!” bob snorted, face turning red as he tried covering it with a cough. you glanced at him just barely, eyes twinkling with something playful and kind. bob somehow reddened even more, hand coming to rest on his neck to scratch an imaginary itch. “i’m going on a grocery run. have a list ready when i’m out of the shower.” there were nods of acknowledgment around the room, though bob, thankfully unnoticed, was now struggling at the mention of you in the shower.

you dried your hair just enough that it wouldn’t soak through your shirt once you put it on. you stared at yourself in the mirror, towel still tucked securely around you. how did you get here? with these people, once again fighting everyone’s wars, once again fighting for people that had nearly called for your incarceration after saving them the last time. you grabbed the black t-shirt tossed beside you and pulled it over your fresh sports bra. it was hot out, but you hated shorts, so you decided on your favorite pair of jeans. they had holes in them, the denim was worn thin, but you couldn’t bare to throw them away. you were just going to the grocery store, and could have just thrown sweatpants on, but you felt that you needed the comfort of something familiar and sentimental- for emotional support- today. you tossed your towel in your laundry basket and grabbed your phone and keys. your boots were nearly as worn through as your jeans, and you swore within a month the soles would have holes in them. bob was sitting on the couch, nose buried in a book as you crossed through the living room area. you spared him a glance, small smile creeping on your lips. you heard what the others said about him, how he was unstable and dangerous. but you just saw you. broken, misunderstood, completely forgotten and abandoned by the world.

bob looked up, eyes widening as he caught you staring. “hi-“ his voice failed him, coming out as a squeak, then a cough to cover it up. “hey,” you held back your amusement at his shyness he still had towards you, even after living in the same house. bob kept his eyes on you, soft, expectant. waiting for you to say something else, because god knew he wouldn’t. “i’m just.. going to get groceries for everyone…” bob closed his book, stumbling to his feet before his mind could stop him, “do you need help? it’s..late.. and…the city can be weird at night.” you couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating, or see how much his cheeks had reddened, or feel the fact that he was about to throw up or pass out. “oh, no, i-“ you were planning to sulk all night, brooding with a murderous expression on your face— scaring off anyone who would approach you in public with your rbf alone. it could be nice to have someone for once, a distraction from your own friend, a break from hating the world, something like a friend… “sure. if you want to.”

bob’s knees almost buckled but he forced himself to play it cool. he wasn’t about to throw up. he wasn’t going to throw up on her boots… he wasn’t going about to pass out. he would not pass out every time she looked at him and collapse, tripping her in the street… “okay-“ his voice squeaked again and he felt his cheeks heat up. you just smiled at him softly, not laughing at his blushing, not making a joke about his damn voice crack.

bob didn’t stand a chance.

bob pulled on his shoes at a walk, nearly crashing into the table as he scrambled to pull on his sweatshirt and walk. you held back a laugh, propping the elevator door open with your hip as he caught up with you. “hi,” he was smiling again with those shy, anxious eyes widened just slightly, as they met your gaze. “ready to go?” he nodded, far too eagerly, trailing behind you as you stepped in the elevator and the doors closed. bob felt like the walls were closing in, the elevator heating up to a dangerous level. you glanced over to him again, your usual glare not present, “you okay, bob?” your voice was so soft and full of concern- towards him- bob almost melted. he swallowed quickly, forcing himself to nod once, “yes! yes. yes, i’m… i’m fine. i just..run hot.” the blush on his cheeks would be a nice cover for that lie. he did run hot, but he didn’t always feel like he was about pass out, throw up, and have his heart burst through his chest all at once.

bob’s eyes widened slightly as you clicked your car keys and a 1980’s mustang beeped in response. “you- you drive that?” he hadn’t meant to sound so surprised, he was just in awe of every aspect of you. “were you expecting something boring?” you met him with a playful smirk. “n–no! never! never from you.” he reddened even further, and almost matched the shade of your car. you kept a sparkling eye fixed on him until you climbed into the driver’s seat. bob climbed in beside you, slowly, head like a swivel as he took in the interior. you watched him and tried to fight the smile creeping up your lips. “do the others know this is what you drive?” you smirked devilishly, “nope. because i don’t want their food wrappers and crumbs in it.” bob’s eyes widened slightly, frantically patting his pockets incase he he had forgotten he had snacks with him. “bob, chill.” you laughed lightly, eyeing him in amusement. bob reddened again, sitting up stick-straight, “sorry, i- sorry-“ you laughed again, “relax...” you put your hand on bob’s shoulder and the heat on his cheeks now spread throughout all of him, rapidly. his eyes widened, snapping up to your soft smile and sparkling eyes. “it’s just us. you don’t have to be tense and…” you gestured to his fidgeting. bob breathed in deeply, “right. sorry.” being just us, as you had said, was actually even more nerve wracking and terrifying and dizzying. and relaxing around you was actually impossible because he was the only other side of conversation and felt like he couldn’t talk to you without sounding stupid or squeaking like a prepubescent child.

you passed your phone to bob as you backed out of the parking spot. he eyed you with wide eyes, feeling like he had been handed something sacred and very forbidden. “pick something,” he eyed you, glancing at the aux cord dangling between your fingers. the radio had been upgraded to connect to an aux, while everything else was authentic and classic. you caught him admiring and smirked, “i like older things, but i still need my music.” “i don’t- um- know…” bob scrolled through your spotify, feeling lost. “just pick something, robert! i’ll listen to anything.” “okay, uh-“ bob picked a random album, looking pale as he set the phone down cautiously. the first few notes started and you hummed, eyeing him quickly, “what-“ she say up straighter, “what did i do- did i not pick a good-“ you held your hand up, shaking your head, “it was a good choice. interesting…” bob felt like he was being tested and was terrified of failing it, “interesting good..?” “interesting, interesting. you didn’t pick anything modern, but you also didn’t just pick the first thing on my spotify. so you saw my music taste and picked accordingly. you didn’t choose journey, which is a classic choice, if not slightly basic. ac/dc was a good pick.” bob nodded, exhaled, breath shaking just slightly. you made his head spin. he loved it… “i don’t think i have the best music taste. i usually just..listen to whatever is on the radio. my dad would listen to older rock, but…” your eyes snapped to him and he nearly flinched, “does this remind you of him?” the way you looked at him, bob would never get used to. so intensely, so softly, so full of concern, like you really cared. like you saw him and not his mistakes. it was a softness, but it wasn’t pity; you looked at him like he wasn’t something fragile that needed to be tiptoed around. “i—“ god he had been lost in those eyes and his inner monologue about you. you had asked about his dad- had your music reminded him of his dad? no.. god, no. nothing about you could ever remind him of that monster… you were good and soft and light…the complete opposite of everything he grew up with and ever knew… “no, it’s- nice- i like it.” you eyed him again, looking for any tell in his eyes, “okay… good.” you smiled to yourself, silently making a note of how he looked at you. and at how much different you felt away from everyone else… with just him.

bob pushed the cart, trailing beside you, very aware of your hand resting on the handle of the cart, inches from his own. he had to remind himself to breathe, focusing so much on not moving his hand or twitching a finger that he didn’t hear you say his name. “sorry- i- what?” he looked to you with an embarrassed expression, cheeks flushing again. god, you probably thought he ran so hot that he was always inches away from overheating. “snack requests? niche brands you prefer?” “i-“ he couldn’t just request his very child like taste in food around you, even if he did really want the usual, comforting, favorites. “i don’t really…do snacks. i like…fruit and stuff…” you narrowed your eyes at him slightly, “boring. you sound like bucky and john.” he watched you grab a box of cereal— from the kids section, not the grown up protein cereal. you eyed it, picked up another one, compared them, grabbed a third box. “which one?” coco pebbles, captain crunch and apple jacks. “i-“ it was his type of comfort food; you had no idea what you were doing to him. you eyed them all again before dropping them all in the cart, “all of the above it is.”

damn it, you were perfect.

after entirely too long in the junk food isles, and a fit of inappropriately loud laughter over an unfortunately named generic brand of candy, the cart was looking like a preschool teachers’. “two twenty four packs of mac and cheese?” bob looked at you with a playful smirk. “yelena…” you eyed him playfully, “plus, it’s valentina’s bill.” bob laughed at this and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. he had fake laughed in too many scenarios; stiff and uncomfortable.

“in that case, we should get one more…”

you smirked, “i thought about it but i can’t reach it.”

bob cleared his throat, waved his hand dramatically and bowed. he reached over your head and grabbed the last box of yelena’s macaroni and cheese. you forgot he was six foot. he carried himself so small, like he was always scared to take up space. “why thank you, sir.” you smiled genuinely, feeling your face heat up- you had lost track of how many times you had laughed or sincerely smiled this evening… “hey, i think i’ll bring you on all my grocery runs from now on.” bob’s heart skipped at this, hiding his red face behind the box of macaroni and cheese, “please do,” it came out before he could stop it. bob stumbled over his words to try and save it, “i mean- you shouldn’t have to shop for a superhuman team alone. …a-lot of bags to carry..” you met his eyes and there was something in your expression- something behind the slightly narrowed eyes, the quirked up eyebrow, the barely there smirk. finally you spoke and bob could breathe again, “sounds good… it’s a date.”

bob could not breathe again.

most nights you spent alone, in your room reading, while most of the others were out on missions or training exercises. you and bob would occasionally pass each other on the way to or from the kitchen, nodding in acknowledgment with a small smile. you both were happy being alone, content in the silence, lost in a book or movie. lately, however, nights the others were gone, you had wandered out into the living room. bob was already there, half interested in his book. his eyes found yours immediately, a small, hopeful smile on his lips, a far too eager glint in his eyes. you sat beside him silently, shocking yourself that you had someone you didn’t mind keeping you company. bob shifted slightly, giving you more room as he turned back to his book in silence. this had become routine when the others weren’t around and the tower was quiet and void of stupid arguments or mission talk. each night started in silence, as if neither of you wanted to disturb the other, as if there was an invisible thing that kept you from getting too close or starting casual conversation. one night as you grabbed your book to head to the living room, you were stopped by bob, standing right outside your door. “hi-“ you exhaled, failing to hide the surprise in your voice. bob just smiled softly, “i was going to ask if you wanted to watch a movie…” oh? “okay?” you fought away the smile that wanted to spread across your lips and ignored the warmth spreading in your chest. “i um-“ bob looked at you nervously, not quite sure if you were agreeing to it or waiting for him to actually ask you. “so-“ he shifted slightly, already feeling stupid, “do you..want to?” this time you did smile widely, “sure,” you stepped aside and held your door open, to which bob’s eyes widened and he looked like he may faint. “oh- um-“ “you can come in, robert. i don’t bite.” bob looked truly ill, buy he stepped inside your room with his best attempt at a stable smile.

“unless you want me to.” you added with a playful smirk, watching as bob took in your room and then suddenly tensed. “i- oh- well-“ bob cleared his throat, trying to pull himself together and recover from your joke. bless your heart, you always tried lightening the awkward tension with playful jokes or sugestive comments. you couldn’t do things like that around bob; he physically couldn’t handle it and would now spend the next twenty minutes trying to calm himself down and remind himself that it was just a joke, no matter how much he really would have liked it if you- no. bob shook his head which earned a sideways look from you. “fine,” bob mumbled it, placing his pile of movie selections on the bed, hands resting casually against his waist. he had gotten himself all worked up and now was in an even worse situation. you had to force yourself to look at the bed, force yourself to ignore his twitching and obvious situation. you really should stop teasing him, after all it had started innocently and playfully… but now… no. no time for that. you picked the closest movie, not really looking through them, but recognizing the title. “my tv is better than the one in there. for some reason, smartly- valentina assumed we wouldn’t be using the living room tv for group hangouts.” your voice was playful but it was hard to ignore there was a man sitting on your bed, in your room. you sat beside him, and he damn near scooted completely off the bed on the opposite side. “robert.” your voice was soft and scolding, “you don’t have to sit that far away. please get comfortable…” you eyed him, putting your spare pillows in the space beside you against the headboard for him. “are you sure- i can sit on the floor?” “i didn’t offer my room so you could sit on the floor awkwardly and be uncomfortable.” or maybe he would be more comfortable away from you and your stupid jokes… he looked at you quietly, still waiting for you to change your mind. instead, you pulled your covers back for both of you, looking at him softly, “robert.” bob finally climbed in next to you, sitting down so painfully slowly you thought he was terrified to wrinkle your sheets. you looked at him incredulously, simultaneously trying not to laugh. he winced in embarrassment, finally settled beside you, pulling your blankets over his legs. he wasn’t breathing. you could tell he wasn’t breathing because of how tense and awkward he looked. “robert,” you sighed, looking at him softly, wishing he could just fully relax around you, “i won’t bite you.” bob exhaled, finally sinking deeper into the bed and pillows behind him, the smallest playful smile on his lips, “unless i ask you to?” your breath caught in your throat as you turned to look at him. his eyes had darkened, playful expression gone; replaced with something hungry and testing. you were holding your breath now, suddenly very aware of how hot it was and how close he was to you. bob didn’t look away from you, for the first time since you had known him, he was looking at you with such intensity…and desperation that you felt shy. you wanted to look away, make more distance between you and pretend you didn’t notice the heat and electricity in the room. “right,” you finally squeaked out, nodding weakly. bob actually smirked, darkly, in amusement, clearly proud that he had for once gotten a reaction from you. he looked away from you, head falling against the headboard with a smug smirk. his jaw was clenched, clearly struggling with similar feelings as you, clearly trying to force them away. damn him… you cursed yourself for breaking your number one rule. never ever let anyone get close.

you pummeled the bag again, kick, punch, attempt to jump and kick higher, swear when you failed. the music in your headphones was loud enough to drown out any thoughts and make you deaf. just how you liked it… upper cut, right hook, punch to an imaginary gut. you were still very aware of the eyes that would occasionally look up from behind the pages of a book, watching you sweat and suffer. hitting the bag harder forced your mind away from him, away from the weekly grocery trips— that had also turned into introducing bob to different music, picking new nicknames for the team, a few inside jokes, and most recently, ice cream on the way home– away from the very clear shift that had happened three weeks ago. more often than not, it was the two of you left in the tower alone, while the others were off saving the world- or more minor things. they weren’t liabilities. they were trained. they didn’t have powers that needed to be held back so no one died. your heart was pounding, muscles throbbing, sweat pouring down your forehead and into your eyes. you wiped your eyes, squinting as you opened them once again.

john walker took up your entire field of vision, directly in front or you. you shrieked, throwing out your fist before you could process who it was. “god—!” john stumbled backwards, hand over his nose. “shit-“ you pulled your headphones over one ear, rushing towards john who was stumbling back to his feet. “i’m sorry- i didn’t-“ john pulled his hand away, blood covering his hand and dripping through his fingers. “oh—“bob had looked up, looking pale at the sight of the blood. “bob, get a towel—“ “i’m fine.” walker waved bob off, pushing away from you slightly, “you act like i haven’t been punched before.” you returned with your crumpled shirt from your back, smacking john’s hand away to hold it against his nose. it was better for a shirt to catch his bleeding nose, than his hands that caused blood to drip all over the floor. “thanks.” john reluctantly took the shirt from you, with a slightly apologetic look as he realized it was your shirt. “i can find another plain white shirt, i’m sure.” that one had been your favorite, but you could find another.

“i have been punched before.” he repeated it, the slightest hint of amusement on his face.

“not by me.”

“i think you broke it…” john almost sounded impressed. “you broke my focus…” you responded with a playful smirk. “why were you standing there anyway?” “i was trying to talk to you. i had been yelling for a full minute, but you couldn’t hear me over your angry music.” you grimaced apologetically, realizing sleep token was still blasting from the headphones around your neck. “sorry about my angry music.” your tone was sarcastic as you turned to pause the music from your phone. “why didn’t you ask bob to get my attention?” bob glanced up slightly at his name. walker glanced over to him with an eye roll of annoyance, “i tried.” bob smirked just slightly at this.

“he didn’t want to bother you. he said you were focused.”

“i was focused.”

“he said you might hit me.”

“i did.” you smirked to yourself and heard bob cough behind you. walker laughed this time and you were positive it was the first time he had appeared genuine in front of you; laughing, instead of scowling or complaining. “that was a hell of a punch.” your eyes glanced back to him, playful, amused, almost smug. “i mean it. it feels like you’re getting a lot stronger. it looks like it too.” walker eyed the muscles up your arms and to your shoulder; obviously more defined than they had been weeks ago. you watched his eyes study you, tensing slightly. john wasn’t even saying it in a flirty way- he wasn’t even looking at you like he was thinking anything like that- he didn’t make you feel uncomfortable, but it still felt off, standing this close to him with just your workout bra, soaked in sweat, still breathing hard… “next time you punch…” john gently cupped your elbow, guiding your arm to a different position. he moved your thumb just slightly, “you’ll break it otherwise.” something shattered behind you, causing you both to jump apart, eyes wide. bob was standing, eyes glowing golden, glossy, expression far away. “what are you doing, bobby-“ you shushed walker, taking another step away from walker. bob’s eyes snapped to you, golden rings gone from his irises. he looked confused, glanced at the bench he has been sitting at, trying to remember why he got up. “sorry, i-“ walker had tightened his fists slightly, waiting. “what did i…” bob glanced at to the glass bottle you had been drinking of, now shattered on the floor, “are you okay?” his confused expression immediately turned to concern, “did you drop it? don’t walk by it…” walker’s jaw was clenched, his eyes dark, expression failing to hide the confusion, caution, maybe even fear. “i’ll clean it up…” john sent a final glance to bob; it was cold, warning. you exhaled, not letting your expression falter as you gave bob a small smile, “come on… you can borrow a new book from my room, while i take a shower.”

you rubbed your face with the towel, still feeling the sweat on you. still feeling walker touch your skin. still seeing the burning in bob’s eyes when you looked at him. you wrapped the towel around your middle, groaning to yourself. you had other things to worry about besides whatever the hell that was. you didn’t need to worry about unstable flares of power showing, you didn’t need to worry about your skin tingling when someone touched your bare skin for the first time ever- without it being punishment or violent. you opened your bedroom door and nearly jumped out of your towel. “holy sh— bob!” bob was stretched out on your bed, new book in hand, eyes widening to what should have been an impossible size, “oh-“ it came out as a squeak. bob scrambled off your bed, collapsed to the floor, mumbling something as he tried to stumble back to his feet. “i’m sorry- oh god- i’m so sorry-“ you would have laughed at any other time; the redness on his face made it difficult to even be mad at him. you did say he could get a book from your room… you had never specified for him to take it somewhere else to read. you bit back a smile, trying not to laugh as he just stayed on the floor, on the opposite side of your bed. he was still muttering to himself, damn near hyperventilating. “robert.” no response. he was clearly afraid if he stood up you would shoot him. you shook your head, turning to your closet to find clothes. “robert…” no response. you rolled your eyes with a slight amused smirk, closing your closet door behind you. you pulled on sweatpants and a sweatshirt yelena had cut the neckline out of and then decided she didn’t want. it was not what you would usually wear; exposing your entire shoulders, loose on the arms and slightly baggy everywhere else; but she was right, it was comfortable.

when you stepped out of your closet, bob was waiting on the bed again. he was looking at the floor. “hey,” you snapped by his head and his eyes locked up to yours. “you okay?” you pushed the book aside and sat beside him. “i’m sorry.” he was fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves, “i’m sorry for- being in here- for- you told me to grab a book, i-“ “bob, it’s fine. honestly. i said you could come in here.” you had to talk him out of it before he started spiraling. “hey,” you placed the gentlest finger on top of his hand. his eyes snapped to your finger tapping the back of his hand. he breathed in shakily, eyes wide, staring at your finger like it had shocked him. his hand felt hot under your touch, his pulse quickening slightly against your wrist. “you can be in here, alright? i said you could. if you want to read… or sit on my bed… or if you ever need to talk.” he looked up at you with glossy eyes. he didn’t say anything, just looking at you, “it’s stupid.” you furrowed your brows, “what’s stupid–“

“it feels safe.”

bob looked to the floor again, clearly embarrassed, secretly trying to fight the urge to just get up and walk out. “being in here. being with you… you.” you exhaled, the words tumbling around in your mind, making your head spin, “you think i- you feel safe in here?” bob started fidgeting again, “i told you it was stupid.” “no- hey-“ someone felt safe with you. someone wanted to be around you, stay close to you, sit in silence with you, hang out in your room reading, reading while you worked out, volunteering to go to the grocery store with you. “it’s not stupid. it’s not. it’s really sweet, actually… it’s nice being looked at as.. someone comforting. instead of…” you shook your head, not wanting to go there, “don’t be embarrassed. it’s an honor. and really. come in here whenever you want. even if i’m not here. just- don’t… don’t be weird.” you nudged him with a playful smile, trying to break the serious tone. “oh- no! no, i would never do anything weird. i- i promise.” “i know, bob.” you gave him that same playful look, trying to assure him it was only a joke, “i let you in my car, remember?” bob laughed just a little, sad eyes looking up at you with the faintest smile.

bob leaned back against your headboard as he read, the fidgeting stopped, he was no longer radiating heat, he was just still, lost in a book, content. you glanced over at him occasionally, trying to focus on your own book, ignoring how close you were to someone else in your bed. “you and walker, then?” the words startled you right into a sitting position, looking over to him, hoping you had heard him wrong. he didn’t look up from his book, though his hands shook slightly, knuckles white as he held the book. you just stared at him, waiting, trying to process why this conversation was happening. “walker?” bob tensed slightly. bob said nothing, glaring into the book, eyes not moving on the page. was he- no. was he jealous? of walker?

“because of—?“

“it was me.”

he closed the book, sitting up quickly, face close enough to feel his breath, “the glass.” you held your breath, not sure if him remembering was a good thing… yet part of you wanted to hear him say it. to tell you why it happened. “i don’t know what happened. i was just sitting there and then walker—“ his hand shook slightly, eyes flashing, the slightest shadow passing across his face. “stop,” you grabbed both his hands in your own, “it’s fine. it doesn’t matter. no one got hurt…” “but they could have. you could have…” you exhaled slowly, “but i didn’t. glass breaks all the time… it got cleaned up and it won’t get brought up again.” “but if something happened-“ “nothing happened. walker was there, he-“ bob shook his head, twitching slightly, “can we not- don’t say his name…” his voice was still soft, but it had deepened slightly. this was what the others feared. the instability in his movements, the shaking in his voice, the darkness behind his eyes. “okay… okay. we won’t.” bob looked at you softly, shy, haunted by something, “i’m sorry. i don’t- i don’t know-“ you took his hands again, trying to pull him back to you and out of his own head. “i don’t think you would ever hurt me.” you weren’t there- in new york, in the void- you heard the stories. the horrors. but you just couldn’t imagine… even still. “i know you wouldn’t.” bob shook his head, “i wouldn’t. but you weren’t the one i wanted to hurt...”

a chill ran down your spine, breath catching in your throat. you shifted, just slightly- not away from him, not letting go of his hand. bob looked up at you with a sad expression, “i’m scaring you…” he jerked his hand away, expression hurt. he looked angry, disappointed, betrayed…broken. “no.” you ignored your pounding heart and the twisting in your stomach. “i should go… it’s late…” “no.” bob uncrossed his legs and was walking to the door as soon as his feet hit the floor, “stop. robert-“

“i’m sorry.” he shook his head again, posture deflating slightly, “i really am, i—“

you forced yourself to follow him, grabbing his arm, “robert, stop. i’m not afraid of you.”

bob stopped, his tense body relaxing slightly at your touch. he took a deep breath, turning to look at you over his shoulder; his eyes glowed behind his hair- but they weren’t golden.

“maybe you should be…” his voice was too deep, too dark. he tugged his hand away from your grip, stepping through the threshold, door slamming shut behind him; never once touching it with his hand. you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. it came out in a sob. you hadn’t realized you still had the ability to cry, after all the years of playing cold, staying unattached, acting like the bitch and playing the character that no one would miss– until the tears started falling.

you were in the gym before bucky or john, after not having slept a single second. there was an energy drink and a cup of coffee sitting beside your gym back this morning. you would either be buzzing enough to complete a record length workout, or you would get a quick shortcut to cardiac arrest. you didn’t have a routine ever, just moving to whatever you felt would get the most frustration and aggression out. you hadn’t realized it had been two hours; and you hadn’t realized bucky, yelena and walker were all watching you, wide eyed. the bag broke free of it’s hook, slamming into the wall as you swore. you turned slowly, sweat soaked and lost in your own head; nearly falling over when you came face to face with john. you flinched and this time he held his arm up in case you struck with your fist first again. “picturing my face again?” you almost laughed, the smallest smirk twitching to your lips. bucky whistled, eyeing the bag that now lay helplessly on the floor, “that’s definitely more like your track record…” you eyed him, almost appreciatively, but instead of thanking him you tipped your water to your lips and drained it, “i’m going for a run.” yelena didn’t hide her surprise, silently wondering how you suddenly still had the energy. you nodded to her as you brushed past, head still spinning.

there had been a moment where you knew you should stop– that you were pushing yourself too hard. it was after your stomach muscles felt like they were going to tear, and before your vision had started going funny. your breathing had evened out, body realizing you must have been in a survival situation and convincing your lungs they needed to get over it. your head throbbed, your vision danced slightly, black creeping in around the edges. every time your feet hit the ground, your head felt like it was hit with a baseball bat. you were nauseous, stomach now demanding you to stop or else. you finally did, bracing yourself against a tree, taking in a breath so deep that it hurt. you swore again, letting your head fall against the tree. you closed your eyes, relishing in the overdue rest. footsteps behind you snapped your attention back; you lifted your head so quickly you felt whiplash, “yelena,” you had meant it to be friendlier, “i caught up with you- you’re fast-“ she was out of breath slightly. yelena hated running so the fact that she came after you was a compliment. “you okay? you seem kind of…” she gestured to all of you and then made a grumpy expression. you would have laughed if you didn’t feel sick or in pain everywhere, “fine.” you forced it out, holding your side, “sure, right.” she eyed you with a speculative expression, nodding sarcastically. “i’m fine,” you looked at your watch, only mildly concerned at how many calories you had burned before eating. “bob is looking for you.” your body betrayed you by it’s reaction. you tensed, eyes snapping up to her’s, widening slightly, “is he okay?” yelena’s speculation only grew, crossing her arms, “why wouldn’t he be okay? did something happen?” you hated how she could read people. she was asking, but she knew. “i-“ “walker told me bob looked like he wanted to rip his head off while you two were training. does that sound familiar?” you exhaled, “we almost had a visitor from a certain shadowy friend.” “because john got too close to you and was touching you.” she was amused. “no.” shit. yelena was smiling just slightly, lips tight, eyes scrutinizing you, “because john was touching you-“ “yelena-“ she waved her hand, “whatever. i’m not going to tell you what i see.” are you sure about that? “talk to bob.” she jogged past you without another word, and you swore you could feel the smug expression on her face. you groaned, silently cursing her as you turned, preparing to walk back.

you had not, in fact, talked to bob. but you also were not going to avoid him. he sat next to you on the couch, half reading, half glancing up at you when he thought you couldn’t see him. he was fidgeting- badly- worse than you had seen him in a while. his fingers tapped against the spine of his book, his foot wiggled side to side, and his knee bounced up and down. he was practically vibrating. “bob,” you finally forced yourself to look at him. he froze, eyes widening, cheeks flushing. he had been shaking the entire damn couch. “is something bothering you?” his foot was moving again, “sorry- i’m sorry- i just-“ he closed his book, turning to look at you, “did something happen last night?” oh. “i don’t… i don’t remember… i feel like.. something happened? between us? or…” your heart sank but you felt as if you could breathe easier, “nothing happened.” if he didn’t remember there was no point in reminding him, especially when it was nothing. he looked at you, nodded once, but behind his eyes he didn’t believe you, “okay…” you smiled softly at him, happy there wasn’t this thing between you. “we didn’t um…?” bob’s fingers traced his chin, a phantom brush against his lips. you hated the way your heart leapt at the thought, “oh- no… we didn’t.” shit, it was like you were running again. “you would remember.” you hadn’t meant to say it, but the shy smile and blush on his cheeks was worth it. he nodded, slightly struggling for words, clearly trying to pull himself together. “okay-“ it was quiet, shy. he wasn’t meeting your eyes.

“are you… getting groceries later?”

it was grocery night. john had offered to go with you. you didn’t want john to go with you. you wanted bob to come with you… god, you wanted bob to come. “i am.” please come. “okay. i’ll come.” once again, your damn heart acted like a frantic bird slamming into something, trying to break out.

you had ended up sitting in the park, stars trying to flicker past the light pollution of the city. bob sat next to you, shifting a milkshake between his hands. you held your own ice cream, watching it melt in it’s cup. your body still felt tense, frustration and irritation pulsing through you; now mixed with something else. bob was watching you, silently, foot tapping anxiously, eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you flinch.

“do you think they’ll ever fully accept us?”

the question hit you like a punch; leaving you feeling like someone had just punched you directly in the gut, taking all the air from your lungs and stolen your words. “i-“ you couldn’t remember if sentry had telekinesis abilities, but his eyes weren’t glowing, so maybe he was just thinking the same thing you had been. “no.” it came out as a sigh. bob’s expression saddened and you wished you hadn’t been so blunt. he nodded once, looking at his feet, “that’s what i thought.” the sadness in his voice made you recoil, cursing yourself for answering honestly. “i think yelena tries. she tries to understand and… include me. but i’m not like them. i can’t control it. i can’t fight… not without.. the other guy…” you felt yourself move closer to him on the bench, “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said-“ “no.” bob’s voice was soft, “don’t apologize. you’re honest. you’re one of the only people that have ever been honest with me.” you felt your heart swell at that, not used to someone appreciating your honesty. “i think they’re lucky to have you. even if you can’t control your powers… there might come a day when you need them. when they need you. one day it might not matter if you can control it, they might just need you.” bob looked at you again, eyes tracing your entire face, likely trying to figure out if you were just saying that to make him feel better. you wouldn’t do that. he knew you wouldn’t. you were the most honest person he had ever meant, even when it was harsh. you kept your eyes locked on his own, feeling that damn tug in your stomach again, ignoring the way your heart jumped.

“they should be happy to have you.” bob broke the stare again, shifting awkwardly, “you do everything for them… forget needing powers.” you scoffed, shaking your head, “anyone can get groceries and write things down, robert.” bob was looking at you again, sadly, “that’s not all you do. that’s- hey-“ he grabbed your hand and you may as well have been electrocuted. “look at me.” you did not want to. you were too scared to see the look he was giving you and what it would do to you. “you’re so much more than just their.. what? house keeper? manager? bullshit.” you looked at him finally, and god, it about did you in. his eyes were burning into yours, intensely, desperately, “you talk them down from fights, you defend me every time they…” his eyes dropped only for a moment, “you make me feel okay. no one has ever done that. yelena tries… she understands to a point… she- but not like you. you don’t treat me differently. you treat me like i’m more normal than they are. like i’m someone worth-“ bob’s jaw clenched and unclenched and you swore if he started crying you would really be out for the count, “i’ve never had that. you make it all okay. for all of us… they all respect you. they don’t say it… they should say it. but you’re so much more than just their housekeeper.” you weren’t completely buying all of it, but you nodded, “i’m glad i mean something to you too.” you hadn’t meant to say that. bob’s eyes snapped up again, listening, clinging to you with his eyes so he didn’t miss a single thing you said. “you-“ you looked away now, not able to handle the intensity and passion behind his eyes, “i’ve never been good for anyone. it’s usually just screw ups and getting people close to me killed.” bob had stood up now, “that was an accident—“ you shook your head, begging the tears to go away, “it wasn’t.” bob had seen it. in the void, in your shame room. he was there, but he still didn’t understand it. “you were a child. trained- manipulated… to be…” he was kneeling in front of you now, eyes locked on you like you were the only thing in the world. “i killed her, robert.” his hands found your knees, resting on them, trying to pull you back to him, despite still being scared to touch you, “stop.” his voice was pleading. “they told me if i went out there and found her and lured her back, i wouldn’t have to kill her. as long as i showed them i was strong enough to act on it-“ you couldn’t feel his fingers grip your knees tighter, “they promised… then they shot her.”

his hands moved to your wrists, holding them, pleading with you to look at him. he knew all about spiraling. about getting lost in your darkest thoughts and getting pulled down. he wouldn’t let that happen to you. he couldn’t watch you relive it again. “look at me.” warmth against your hands pulled you to him, bleary eyed, mind still far away. his eyes glowed a gentle golden, locked on you, not aware of anything else around him. “that wasn’t you.” “i should have just grabbed her and run-“ it came out as a sob and you wished you were just alone, that he wasn’t here to see you like this. “i’m not going anywhere.”

right, mind reading…

“you both would have died, then and you wouldn’t be here. and god, i don’t want a world where that’s the case.” your eyes snapped to his at that and you became aware of how close he was, then. of how he was looking at you, of his hands in your own, of the fact that he was kneeling between your knees. “i—“ he was slightly out of breath; you didn’t know if he was dizzy from your closeness, if he was using his powers to calm you and if it was draining him. or if it was something else. if it was the same feeling you had, a heat in your stomach, the lightheadedness, the roaring in your ears, the tension in you that begged to just be let out… the absolute desperation and need you felt for him that could no longer be ignored and shoved down.

his lips were on you, then; hungry and messy. you gasped as your hands found his hair, fingers tangling in it, pulling him further into you. his breath shook as he took a deep breath against you. “wait, i’m—“ bob’s hands shook slightly, eyes glowing brighter than the stars above you, “i can’t control-“ he was fighting to pull himself away from you, fists clenched as they shook. “i’m sorry-“ you found his lips again and he didn’t protest. his entire body was warm, radiating like a furnace against you. he melted into you, body trembling slightly, fingers shaking as they traced the outline of your shirt. your breath caught, the feel of his finger tips against the skin on your hips making your head spin. bob’s full weight was against you, practically sitting on your lap, melting into you, losing himself against you. his fingers traced your shirt, tugging up slightly on the fabric. “robert-“ you were breathless, lost in him, but also very aware you were on a public bench. “robert-“ you pushed him gently, almost laughing at his dazed expression and light drool on his lips. his eyes still glowed, but there was a darkness behind them. his nose brushed against yours, breathless, tilting his head just slightly to reach your lips, “robert, we’re still in public-“ you exhaled shakily, tilting just slightly out of ready of him. “right,” he breathed out, face reddening, expression still dazed.

bob shifted off you, groaning slightly, pouting as he did. “‘m sorry,” he smiled stupidly, grinning at you like he had just won the entire world. “don’t be sorry for that.” you smirked at him, letting him help you to your feet. god, he made your head spin. he dropped the groceries in the back of your car, climbing in the passenger seat with a sleepy smile. “so… home then.” he sounded disappointed; you felt it… “everyone might be asleep…” bob met your dangerous expression, “or gone…” bob placed a torturous hand on your knee as you put the car in drive.

you put groceries away with shaking hands, fully aware of how bob was looking at you like you were his next meal. he was reading from the couch, but his eyes were above the book, watching your every move. the others were either asleep or not home- you didn’t know, and you didn’t really care. you placed the final box of cereal in the pantry and turned around just to be nose to nose with bob. you exhaled, cursing your legs for growing weak. “i would like to finish what we started.” your breath caught, not at all used to bob being forward and confident. all you could do was nod, feeling pathetic and dizzy. he followed you to your room, watching with hungry eyes as you locked the door behind you. he sat on your bed, eyes softening as you joined him. “i don’t..” he hesitated as your hands found the bottom of his sweatshirt, “please don’t turn away…” your heart caught in your throat as he pulled his shirt over his head, hands gently placed over your own. your eyes dropped, shamelessly, to his ridiculous and dangerous abs. “turned off?” bob almost laughed, “i didn’t say turned off,” his shirt still lay around his neck, arms still in the sleeves, “that’s not what i was talking about…” you held your breath as he pulled his shirt over his head, pulling his arms out of the sleeves. you were still admiring his abs when his arm came to rest against you. your breath caught, choking on the air in your nose, “bob-“ “no…” his voice was quiet, he was no longer meeting your eyes, “please don’t treat me different now. you always call me robert. call me robert…” your eyes followed the numerous lines on his arms, not hearing him as tears filled your eyes. “bob, i-“ he was looking at you, guilty, broken, embarrassed, “please don’t treat me differently, i- they’re old.. most of them are old, they- i haven’t in a long time-“ you were already crying though, not sure how he could expect you not to react at all. to this. to him doing this. “i’m-“

“i’m sorry. i should have warned you, i-“

“why are you sorry?” your voice was flat, void of the usual softness it held towards him, shaking slightly, “why are you apologizing? i- i’m sorry you ever thought- i’m sorry it was bad enough that you-“ bob was looking at you again, still guilty, still trying to hold up his walls for you. you squeezed both his hands, trying to get the tears to stop, “if i had been there-“ bob actually laughed then, “you would have hated me back then.” he tilted your head up to look at him, “god knows i did…” you wiped at your eyes, hating that he was once again seeing you cry, but happy it was at least over him this time, “you promise you’ve stopped? completely?” bob nodded, looking at you shamefully, “i’m better now….. i- i didn’t want you to find out like this. i’m sorry. i didn’t think you would ever see them…”

you bit your lip, stroking his arms with the softest touch, “i’m sorry you thought you deserved this. you didn’t. no matter what you did.” bob’s eyes were on your face, even as your own traced up and down his arms, as your fingers ran gently along the uneven skin. bob was holding his breath, truly feeling like he could cry; knowing he had never felt such a gentle touch- especially on the darkest, most gruesome scars of his past. “i think i’m in love with you.”

you nearly tumbled right off the bed. you were sure your face reflected your shock, but hopefully not the way you were currently fighting for air. “you don’t have to say it back. i don’t even know what that means, really. i’ve never felt it before. not towards me, or directed at someone else… but i know how i feel when i’m with you. and how you make me feel. safe… happy, normal.. like i’m not a freak, or a screw up, or a total loser, or a burden… just.. that i’m me. something i’ve never really felt in a positive way. not really. but when you look at me… or laugh at something i say… being me isn’t…the worst thing ever.”

shit, now you were crying. how could he say those things to you and mean it? he knew what you had done… he knew what you were. what you had trained to be… “robert.” his soft eyes met yours and the look behind them made you nearly break, “i don’t deserve your love. i don’t care what your past was like. you are good. you are the best person i’ve ever met but, i-“ “bullshit.” bob was in front of you again, “absolute bullshit. i don’t want to hear that again. if you can see the good in me, then why the hell shouldn’t you deserve love and second chance when the two times you weren’t perfect were accidents?” damn. he had a point. but still- he was bob. you would never hold yourself to the same standard of the man you loved. “that’s the problem,” he was smiling just slightly, a playful smirk on his lips, “is that you will never see yourself as i do. and you will never see myself the way i do.” oh, damn him and that mind reading ability. “look at me.” you did, shamefully, embarrassed, guilty, “everyone i get close to dies. or i push them away before they can get too close…” bob squeezed your hand, “lucky for you, i can’t die. or even be injured. and i have been told that i am extremely annoying and clingy. so good luck with that other part.” you almost laughed, wiping at the tears in your eyes. bob let go of your hand, exhaling, “you don’t have to say anything back. i’m not expecting anything. i don’t need anything to change between us… as long as we can still be friends and-“ he stood up, a soft but sad smile on his lips, “please just don’t push me away. i’m sorry. i’ll give you time. i’ll go… just… please don’t push me away.”

you grabbed onto his wrist, stopping him before he could walk away. your mind had acted before you were caught up with the plan. bob looked at you wide eyed, eyes slowly moving to your interlocked hands. his skin was hot, always much too hot to the touch, always much more hot than the average person. he looked to you again, hopeful, expectant. say something, stupid. say something before he walks out, or before he starts another anxious rambling. what if you said something stupid and hurtful again? you tugged on his arm so quickly and suddenly that bob stumbled against you. his eye’s widened as he landed directly in your lap, stumbling over apologies as he struggled to get off you. your arms wrapped around his waist, tightly, holding him against you. bob’s breath caught, tensing against your touch. you pulled him in by the hair before he could mutter one more apology.

his breath hitched, inhaling shakily against your lips. he closed his eyes as he reciprocated, hotter, heavier, with even more passion. your own heart jumped, skipping entirely too fast to be healthy. bob melted into you, his full weight sending you gently against the mattress. his arms wrapped around you tightly, fingers tracing your skin softly beneath your shirt. your heart leapt, breath shaking, silently wondering who lit off fireworks in your stomach. bob pulled you closer against him, lifting your back off the mattress. you could have passed out right then alone, but then his other hand pulled your shirt over your head, as he continued to hold you against him. your head spun. the pair of you let out a sharp breath at the feeling of warm skin against warm skin. the room was spinning as his lips found yours again, messily, desperately. the room buzzed with electricity- or maybe it was just your head struggling to keep up with the rest of you. bob shifted down your jaw, to your neck, to your collarbone. you shifted, swearing that the room was sitting on top of a frisbee that had been thrown. his fingers against your skin sent electric bolts through your skin, heat spreading through you rapidly. his touch was soft and so full of love. his skin against you, comforting, the heat building all the way into your stomach. it was nothing like you had ever felt. it was gentle, careful, protective. nothing like hands that had been on you in the past; forceful, rough. no. you forced the memories down- refusing to ruin the moment. the perfect way he melted against you, the way he held you gently, but firmly. soft, but protective. bob was nearly gasping for air as he broke away from your skin. you would have smirked if you weren’t so pathetically out of breath and worked up yourself. he shook slightly, his eyes glowing a soft golden when he finally looked at you. “i’m sorry-“ he had a stupid smile on his lips, embarrassed, “too much-“ his hands shook and you were sure he was fighting for restraint, pulling himself together, not wanting to lose control. still, you grinned at him, foolishly and exhausted. “i’m sorry, i just-“ you stroked his hair as he collapsed into your chest, breathless and sweaty.

“too much…” he hummed against your skin, completely wrecked without even going further. completely lost to the world as soon as you started playing with his hair. “there’s no hurry.” you would have hated yourself if he did truly feel bad about needing to stop, “we have time.” there would be several nights of messy passion and tangled sheets. right now, all you wanted was to feel his skin against you, warm and soft- and his arms around you, firmly and protective.

“stay here tonight. with me…” it was not a question, but bob answered by pulling you closer to him, nestling your face into his chest, just under his chin. you breathed deeply, inhaling his scent, breathing him in. bob said nothing, breathing deeply, breath still shaky, holding you against him, “i’m all yours.”

—————————

a/n: this took me soooo long oml. im not sure i love all of this, but i wanted to post something and finally finish this since i started it june 7th😵‍💫

[girlsonbrotherwife]

Hi! Share are your favourite Wincest hcs? 🤲🏽

hiiiii omg of course!! thank you for sending this!

umm first, dean is canonically Insane about sam. for sam, i think it’d be more of a childhood crush due to puberty being a Weird Time with hormones and social standings and whoa, dean’s kinda cool and… sort of attractive objectively.

it clicks for him around when he’s supposed to start high school or so (i’m thinking ‘97) because like i said, sam’s starting to notice other people. and now that dean’s a legal adult and taking advantage of that, sam’s tagging along like his little sidekick.

john didn’t foster it per se, but sammy’s starting to have nightmares and well. if he’s seeking out his brother in the middle of the night, who’s john to stop them? it reminds him of right after mary’s death when dean wouldn’t leave sam’s side.

he’s glad his boys are so close. he feels less guilty about their lack of concrete relationships with their peers that way bc at least they have each other.

i do NOT, however, think sam left for stanford because of his feelings. that nullifies how badly he wanted to escape and to be his own person. the summer before he leaves, i think that’s really when it began to set in that what he and dean have is so, so wrong.

and then, the longer they spend together after he starts hunting again, sam starts to understand his younger self. he doesn’t necessarily feel that way again, but he gets it.

season 4 is where it starts back up again. that’s when we see how violently possessive of sam dean is. i think his involvement with ruby, and the similarities between her and dean, would confuse his platonic vs romantic feelings for him. keep in mind bro is tripping on demon blood like he’s NOT thinking right.

the bloodsucking freak voicemail snaps him out of it. after hell, when dean’s possessiveness culminates in more physical/emotional violence and abuse, when his brain is already fucked over by lucifer, it would mess their relationship up again.

do i think it was ever the same as it was for dean? no. but i think dean’s violent love is comfortable and safe and familiar, and that’s enough for sam to let dean control their dynamic.

dean sees sam as his brotherwife (hence my username lmao). sam sees dean as his brother who he loves just a little bit more and a little bit wrongly than he should. but their lives are so twisted up and confusing that sam doesn’t see it as out of the ordinary.

ik you said headcanons but i started rambling and this got away from me 😭 i hope this makes sense mwah !

[good-enemy]

Finally started watching severance, I'm a few episodes in and I have several questions, first off why does Helly only seem to own 1 pair of shoes

[batsplat]

what press conference is that and what lies is Valentino telling 😭😭😭

I’m always obsessed w the Case - J Lo - Vale pressers bc I feel like Jorge actively dissociates anytime he’s not asked a question (bc he’s already internally mapping out his answers to the next 20 possible questions he could be asked), Casey simmers n stews n hates every second of being there, and Vale is just always having the time of his life

(side note but rly underrated skill of his!! to be able to pretend you actually enjoy the press element!! maybe he’s not pretending, maybe he really is just able to turn it On that often & that easily…but idk I’ve been a longtime f1 fan too & the way Vale is able to make press conferences ~fun, or at least project that he’s having fun during them, is incredibly rare)

((i recognize “underrated” is probably not the right term generally speaking for the guy who is widely recognized as like the greatest showman the sport’s ever had lol. just that i personally underrate it & then am always pleasantly surprised when i watch almost any press conference of his))

(text posts here) this is from aragon 2011, a point in their relationship where quite honestly casey didn't need much of an excuse to give valentino the stink eye

there's not anything in the presser you'd actively expect casey to want to kill valentino with his mind over (beyond valentino's terminal affinity for yapping at anyone in his vicinity in these things). maybe valentino commenting on how fast casey and ducati had been at aragon the last year somehow attracted casey's ire? maybe valentino reiterating he was going to race in japan (a major talking point throughout that year - valentino and jorge had initially been united in launching a bit of a riders' revolt on that issue, including meeting at jorge's motorhome at a time when relations between them were otherwise... uh, frosty; eventually it had been casey and jorge who were the final holdouts, with casey still not willing to 100% commit at aragon)... generally though, I reckon this is mostly just how casey looked at valentino those days

though that reminds me, there's one specific question where, if I were valentino, honestly I'd be tempted to off myself - but somehow it's casey who manages to look quite awkward while valentino just laughs

Q: Different question for you, Casey - any advice for Valentino this weekend? This is where you turned your season around last year. ... Ride faster? CS: Do something drastic, I don't know... (mumbles) [Same for me?]

absolute all timer dynamic idk, look at casey's little nervous tics while valentino is grinning at him

so self-conscious god bless

anyway, here's the presser photo

expression gets gradually more enthusiastic as you move to the right. not reflective of current competitive situation

and yeah I find their different styles of engagement v interesting!! jorge's also gone on a bit of an arc with this over the years... you've got these very early clips where he still needs a translator in the presser (not at all uncommon, dovi for instance was the same) and he's just deeply awkward but also quite enthusiastic, then you get to his first premier class years where... y'know, he's clearly not a natural at this, but he WANTS to be, he WANTS to engage with the process and be charming and all the rest of it... and then by 2011 he's kind of given up. 2010 was great for his career but less great for his popularity, and it's really when you can feel the disillusionment creeping in. he never quite loses that part of himself, still obviously wants to win hearts and minds... but yeah. he's never been particularly up for listening to his peers in these things, but by this point in time he did clearly want to fast forward through these things. default state is zoning out

casey might be a well-known sceptic of any kind of engagement with the public - but he's actually a self-professed people watcher, he likes sitting around quietly observing people. one of my fave lil autobiography nuggets:

I like to think I can read people very well, especially people I get to study a lot, and when I come in during a session to make changes to the bike that is exactly what I am doing. The mechanics might think that because I have got my visor down I'm just sitting there doing nothing but I'm observing everything and I could see they weren't coping well with the pressure of having the big bosses watching over them.

'my mechanics think I'm doing nothing but actually I'm sitting with my visor down secretly observing them' is such a. a deeply funny line, deeply casey line. not sure I'm convinced the mechanics would prefer to know that this is what casey was doing, but there we are. in any case, obviously casey doesn't SAY this but I don't think it's a massive leap to suggest he was doing the same thing in pressers. ofc I enjoy using these photos in text posts because they kinda tell their own story, but I should note that to some extent this is just casey's resting face. like,, if I'm sufficiently motivated obviously I can also make a 'casey doesn't fw dani' version

now admittedly, there are way fewer photos of casey staring at dani and jorge (or indeed anyone else) than there are of him staring at valentino... arguably even in the years where valentino is very much no longer casey's main on-track rival. but like, there's also relatively less photos of casey making heart eyes at those other two guys. whether this genuinely reflects how much staring casey was doing or is just the result of photographer bias (no criticism, I too would be documenting every look casey sends valentino's way) or a combination of the two... who knows. but I DO think that casey was very much committed to studying valentino, including by doing this little staring act in pressers. slightly clashes with his whole 'oh I don't care about my rivals' schtick, but, well, casey's no stranger to a bit of an internal contradiction. so he's quietly studying and quietly judging and quietly seething... LEARNING from the enemy by documenting every last detail of his side profile. or something

and yeah lol massive props to valentino not getting tired of this week in week out. admittedly in pressers specifically he does also frequently entertain himself by choosing the nearest convenient victim to yap at, which both jorge and casey very obviously found an annoying habit at times. (shout out to misano 2016 where jorge and valentino started bickering in the presser and jorge afterwards went HE NEVER SHUTS UP IN THESE THINGS, which, like, wasn't particularly relevant in that specific situation and clearly had just been something he'd been sitting on for years.) both jorge and casey have also actively turned to valentino on at least one occasion in a presser to indicate that they would like him to shut the fuck up - and both times valentino has complied, so theoretically at least they could have put a stop to this. so, y'know, it probably doesn't hurt if you're the type of guy willing to make your own fun in these pressers, even when it comes at the active cost of the sanity of the people around you. beyond that though, yup. I mean it's probably a good attitude to have if that's literally your whole life. I think it's always done valentino a lot of good that he's fundamentally a curious type of bloke who is curious about other people. journalists DO piss him off a lot of the time, but in theory it's a process he likes engaging with because he likes talking and he likes listening. honestly did miracles for the vibes of these things, like the f1 thing is a good point because I sometimes watch motogp pressers these days and go. man. this place could do with a yapper

[kateschi]

two heroes, one marriage

synopsis: having stolen the hearts of fans with your teamwork and marraige, you and katsuki are called in for a joint interview.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

the magazine spread featuring you and katsuki as top pro heroes has the fanbase buzzing for weeks.

power couples aren’t uncommon, but the combination of your joint success and explosive chemistry—both literally and figuratively—makes you stand out.

when you both get asked to sit down for a joint interview, it’s hard to say no, especially when the public can’t seem to get enough of the dynamic between you and your husband.

sitting side by side on a plush sofa in the brightly lit studio, katsuki bristles with impatience, his jaw clenched as the interviewer introduces the segment.

it’s a familiar scene—his fiery personality on display for everyone to see—but you can feel the underlying tension, the way his body leans subtly closer to yours for grounding.

“so, the two of you are recognized as two of the top heroes of the year, and fans are really curious to know how you manage your lives as heroes and as a married couple,” the interviewer begins with a polite smile, clearly trying to ease into the conversation.

before you can respond, katsuki’s sharp voice cuts through the air.

“what the hell kinda question is that?” he snaps, eyes narrowing as he crosses his arms. “we do our damn jobs, and we go home. simple as that.”

you stifle a laugh, used to his bluntness by now. gently placing a hand on his arm, you intervene.

“what he means,” you say, casting a glance at katsuki that makes him grumble, “is that it’s about finding a rhythm. we both understand each other’s work, so we don’t get in each other’s way.”

katsuki grunts, his fiery gaze fixed on the interviewer. “she knows how to handle herself; doesn’t need me micromanaging her every move.”

despite his words, his hand finds its way to your lower back, fingers pressing into the fabric of your suit.

his touch is subtle, a quiet reassurance in the midst of his usual tough demeanor, but you know it means he’s keeping you close, watching out for you in his own way.

the interviewer picks up on the moment, nodding enthusiastically.

“it sounds like you both have a lot of trust in each other. how do you support one another with the high demands of your careers?”

katsuki clicks his tongue, clearly irritated. “support? we’re pros. we know what we’re doin’ out there.”

but just as you’re about to add something, he turns his head slightly to you, his voice dropping just enough for you to hear the change in tone.

“that doesn’t mean I won’t blow the ass off anyone who even thinks about messin’ with her,” he mutters.

you chuckle softly, nudging him with your elbow. “and here I thought I didn’t need you hovering around.”

“shut up,” he grumbles, but there’s no real bite in his tone.

his hand stays on your back, thumb brushing up and down in a way only you notice. “just ‘cause you’re strong doesn’t mean I’m not gonna make sure you’re alright.”

the interviewer, sensing an opportunity, leans in. “mister dynamight, you seem pretty protective of your wife. would you say that’s how you balance work and home life?”

katsuki’s eyes flash, his scowl deepening. “of course, I’m protective. you think I’d let her get caught up in any shit without me there to take care of it?”

his voice is sharp, but the way his arm shifts slightly to pull you closer is anything but harsh. “we don’t even need to talk about this crap.”

you smile to yourself, knowing this is as close to an open display of affection as katsuki will get in public.

his explosive personality never wavers, but there are cracks in his tough exterior that only you can see—moments where his concern for you bleeds through.

when the interviewer pushes on, asking about how your relationship works in the field, katsuki scoffs again.

“are you gonna keep asking this?” he snaps, before glancing at you, his hand tightening just slightly at your waist.

he sighs, trying to compose himself. “we work together ‘cause we’re a team, a hella good one at that.”

his little proud smirk makes your heart flutter. you decide to tease him a little. “oh, so you’re saying you can’t live without me on the battlefield, huh?”

his glare is immediate, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “don’t twist my words! I just—”

he cuts himself off, grumbling under his breath.

“you’re the one who keeps me in check, alright? so yeah, maybe i do rely on you. you’re my wife, and I am your husband. that’s natural! don’t make a big deal out of it.”

your husband huffs and looks away, which makes you giggle.

meanwhile, the interviewer chuckles nervously, clearly amused by the exchange. “it seems like you two have a really solid partnership.”

katsuki rolls his eyes. “damn right we do. we’ve got each other’s backs. that’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it’s gonna stay.”

as the interview wraps up, you feel katsuki’s hand slip from your waist, but his presence lingers, as solid and steady as ever.

once you’re off-camera and away from the prying eyes of the public, katsuki turns to you, his expression softening in that rare way that only you ever get to see.

“let’s get outta here,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “this interview crap’s a waste of time.”

you laugh, slipping your hand into his. “let's hope they don't cut you out like they did in highschool.”

“shut the hell up.” but despite his grumbling, he doesn’t let go of your hand, his grip tightening just slightly as you walk together out of the studio.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[tizeline]

Some snippets into Donnie's relationship to his brothers in the Separated AU

So after having figured out that Donnie is in fact their Long Lost Brother, the Drax Trio obviously want him back, and while Donnie is initially excited to find out that he has a bunch of siblings, he's less excited to find out that they're a bit, uh, evil. And they keep insulting April!! How dare they!!! Not to mention, he already has a dad, he doesn't need a new one! So no, Donnie isn't planning on just leaving his current family behind for this new one, and his brothers react to this in various different ways.

As much as Mikey wants Donnie back, Dr. Feelings understands that this is quite the adjustment for Donnie and that he may need some time to come to terms with the fact that he actually belongs with them and not with the humans. Mikey doesn't wanna force his brother to reunite with them, so instead he tries to convince Donnie to come home willingly through various ways. I mentioned this in an earlier post, but AU Mikey is essentially trying to give Donnie a redemption arc like Canon Mikey did with Draxum

Raph, however, sees Donnie and immedietly goes full Protective Big Brother Mode. He thinks the best course of action is to "forcefully rescue" (kidnap) him and and then convince him to stay and be apart of their family. He's can't help catastrophizing about all the way his baby brother is definitely being mistreated by Lou Jitsu and April and all the other evil humans oh NO they have to SAVE HIM!! The only reason he doesn't is because no one else in the Draxum family thinks it's a good idea

And then Leo. I'll go more into detail about Leo's character in this AU at a later dat cuz hhhhhhh but basically, he's still dealing with pretty intense Middle Child Syndrome and the LAST thing he need is another middle child joining the family! Why are all his family members so obsessed with getting Donnie back anyway? He's already clearly chosen the human side so why waste their time on him! .....Now that's not entirely the whole truth, he's kinda ecstatic when he first meets Donnie, except Donnie doesn't seem to care about them any, which... ouch.

Another way to describe their dynamic would be similar to their canon dynamic, a lot of friendly bickering.... except they don't really know each other and are also enemies here so like.... UNfriendly bickering.... which is just bickering lol. They fight a lot, is what I'm getting at.

Anyway you know the family dinner scene with Draxum in season 2 of the show? Yeah, Mikey tries that tactic here too. Like I said, Mikey wants to be patient with Donnie, but he does eventually get a bit tired of Donnie acting so hostile all the time so he starts organizing hangouts for the four of them (attendence is mandatory!)

And poor Donnie, this whole situation is a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for him, as you might imagine. Reuniting with your secret lost family is fun for all of five seconds before you find out that they're actually kinda messed up uh oh. A big reason why Donnie acts so hostile towards his brothers is because it's easier for him to just dismiss them as mere enemies that he feels no attatchment to. He's basically being made to pick between this new family and his old one is Not Fun.

[dazevi]

CHAPTER FOUR: APOCALYPSE

heart to heart series | vi x fem!reader

synopsis: vi keeps coming back. and each time you give in, each time you let her into your apartment, it gets harder and harder to ignore the feelings between you.

content warnings: MDNI. nsfw (18+ content), more angst, fluff if you squint, rockstar!vi, bookshop owner/writer!reader, exes to lovers, friends with benefits dynamic (kinda), smut; more needy sex, pussydrunk!vi, switch!vi but top!leaning, tiniest hint of power bottom!reader, oral (vi and r rec.), face-sitting (r rec.), fingering (vi and r rec.), strap-on sex (r rec.), strap is referred to as a cock occasionally, and idk what else lmk !!!

wc: 15,642

notes: sorry for the long wait on this one! have been having a rough week! anyway this is bit of a long chapter lol. there’s two smut scenes in this btw and it’s barely proofread but i hope everyone enjoys the chapter!! feedback is always appreciated yell at me !!!!!!!!! (also the text messages are now in dark mode since light mode hurts me eyes lmao) fanart by bunimint_ on ig !

navigation | series masterlist | previous chapter

Vi stirs slowly, the early morning light filtering in through the curtains. Her body feels heavy, muscles sore in that way that only comes from an exhausting night—the good kind of sore, reminding her of everything that happened just hours ago. There’s a dull throbbing at the back of her head at the spot where she’d stupidly hit it against the door last night in her rush to catch you but it barely registers, a minor inconvenience compared to everything else she’s feeling.

She groans softly, shifting onto her side, stretching lazily before sighing against the pillow. But then, its hits her.

Her arm slides over the sheets beside her, searching instinctively for warmth, for you. Her brows knit together in confusion as her hand finds only cool sheets. Vi frowns slightly, blinking away the last traces of sleep as she pushes herself up onto her elbows, glancing around the room.

Empty.

You must’ve gone to work—at the shop. You get there at nine in the morning and open shop at ten, she remembers.

But, fuck, she really wanted to wake up next to you.

She thought—hoped—that maybe she’d wake up to you still pressed against her, still warm and soft and sleepy, still hers, even if only for a few more minutes. She wanted to roll over to reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, maybe press lazy kisses to your shoulder, feel you sigh into her touch before the rest of the world even had a chance to wake up.

But instead, she’s alone.

You’re gone.

And god, she misses you.

It’s stupid, really. She spent the whole night with you. She touched you, kissed you, held you, had you in ways she’s been aching for since the moment you broke up with her all those years ago.

And yet, even after all of that, the absence of you even now still hurts the same way it did before. Probably more.

Vi drags a hand down her face, sighing heavily, trying to push away the sinking feeling in her chest. She doesn’t know what she expected—if she even had the right to expect anything at all.

You had been clear last night.

No commitment.

And yet, here she is, lying in your empty bed, feeling like a fool for wanting something more.

She turns her head slightly, staring at the spot where you had been, at the way the sheets are still slightly rumpled from where you slept. She reaches out without thinking, fingertips grazing the fabric, but the warmth is already gone.

She should be happy. Fuck, she is happy—happy that she got to have you, to hold you, even if only for a night.

But it’s not enough. It’s never going to be enough, not when she knows what it felt like to have everything with you.

She doesn’t want something casual.

She doesn’t want to wake up alone.

She doesn’t want to pretend that it doesn’t mean anything, that it isn’t everything.

She wants you.

All of you.

Vi exhales slowly, dragging a hand down her face as she forces herself to move, to shake off the heavy feeling settling deep in her chest. Lying in your empty bed, wrapped in the lingering scent of you, isn’t going to make this any easier.

If anything, it only makes it worse.

She pushes herself up, the sheets slipping from her bare skin as she swings her legs over the edge of the bed. For a moment, she just sits there, staring down at her hands, as she could still feel you on her fingers.

Fuck. Get up, Vi.

She finds her clothes scattered across the room, her jeans kicked halfway under the bed, her shirt draped over the chair in the corner, her jacket tossed near the doorway. She takes her time dressing, moving slower than necessary, not because she needs to—but because she wants to.

She smooths out the sheets, pulling the blankets back into place, running her hand over the fabric like it’ll somehow make up for the fact that she’s leaving before she even got to say good morning. It’s almost laughable—how she never used to care about things like this, how she never used to be the type to tidy up after herself after a one-night stand.

But this isn’t just anyone.

This is you.

After the bed is made, Vi takes her time slipping her shoes on, letting her gaze wander around your room.

She stands beside your bed, staring down at the neatly made sheets, her fingers absently smoothing out a wrinkle that doesn’t really need fixing. She’s already done enough to stall—already taken her time getting dressed, already let her hands linger too long on your things, already memorized every little detail.

But now she just stands there, her gaze moving toward your nightstand.

It’s simple, uncluttered. A lamp, a half-read book with a slip of paper tucked between the pages, a small dish with a few rings and hair ties, a glass of water gone untouched.

Vi exhales slowly.

She wishes she could stay—wants to crawl back into your bed and pull the blankets over her, wants to press her face into the pillow and drown in the scent of you.

Instead, she reaches into her pocket, her fingers brushing against cool metal, and pulls out her favorite lighter.

A Zippo—well-worn, the silver casing slightly scratched from years of use, a small emblem on the front that’s barely visible anymore from the way she’s fidgeted with it over time. It’s the one she always carries, the one she flips open and shut whenever she’s deep in thought, the one she’s had for years.

And she leaves it there.

She sets it down on your nightstand without hesitation, placing it next to your book, her fingers lingering against the cool surface for just asecond.

It feels desperate—leaving this here in your apartment—but she doesn’t really care. She doesn’t know if you’ll even notice it right away, if you’ll recognize it for what it is. Maybe you’ll just brush past it, thinking it’s something that was always there. Maybe you’ll pick it up and scoff, knowing exactly who left it behind.

But either way, it’s something hers. A piece of her, sitting there, waiting. A reason for you to reach out.

She pulls her hand away, staring at it for a moment longer, then sighs, running a hand through her hair.

Maybe it’s stupid, she thinks.

But she forces herself to move, to step away from the bed and into the living room.

Her fingers brush over the back of the couch as she walks through the living room, her eyes catching on the shelves filled with books, the neatly stacked notebooks on the coffee table, the soft throw blanket tossed over the armrest.

And then, as her gaze drifts, she sees tokens of your life in different parts of the room. Little trinkets. Small, seemingly insignificant things to anyone else—but to her, they are everything.

Her breath catches as she reaches out, fingers tracing over a tiny, worn keychain that she knows was once attached to her old truck keys. A small ceramic fox she remembers you winning at a carnival back in high school. A faded concert ticket stub—one of her concerts.

Her stomach twists again.

You kept these.

Vi swallows hard, her fingers curling slightly before she pulls her hand away. She doesn’t know what to do with that, doesn’t know what it means. But she lets herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she’s not the only one holding on.

With one last glance around, Vi exhales and forces herself toward the door, her heart feeling heavier with every step.

She steps out into the cool morning air, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders as she makes her way to her truck. The sun is barely rising, the city still quiet, save for the occasional distant hum of traffic.

She slides into the driver’s seat, the door shutting with a heavy thud. For a moment, she just sits there, gripping the steering wheel, staring at nothing in particular, her mind still back in your apartment, still in your bed, still pressed against your warm skin. She can still smell you on her clothes, still feel your touch lingering along her body like an imprint she never wants to fade.

Vi exhales sharply, leaning back against the headrest, her fingers flexing against the leather wheel as she lets it all settle in.

She thought she could, thought she could take whatever you were willing to give her and be satisfied with it, but fuck—she isn’t.

She doesn’t want this to be the last time.

Vi rubs at her face, dragging a hand through her hair, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out her keys. She turns them over, staring at them, before slipping them into the ignition and bringing the old truck to life.

She pulls out of the parking lot, glancing up briefly at your apartment building in the rearview mirror as she drives away. The thought of leaving you behind, even just for now, feels wrong.

But she knows one thing for certain—

She can’t let this be the last time she’s with you.

She’s already lost you once.

She’ll be damned if she lets it happen again.

“God, what was I thinking?”

The scent of chamomile drifts upward into your nose. You wrap your hands around the mug, letting the heat seep into your palms, but it does little to ease the frustration in your chest.

The shop is quiet today and day is slow, just a couple customers browsing the shelves of your tiny bookshop, but your mind is anywhere but here.

Your phone is pressed against your ear, Mel’s voice on the other end, half-listening, half-scolding, but you’re too wrapped up in your own spiraling thoughts to care. You sigh, tilting your head against your hand, fingers rubbing at your temple.

Mel hums knowingly on the other end.

“Well, you weren’t thinking,” she corrects, and you can practically hear the smirk in her voice. “That’s the whole problem.”

You groan, setting your tea down with a soft thud, resting your forehead in your palm.

“I know,” you mutter, closing your eyes.

The memories from last night are still so fresh—Vi’s hands on your skin, her lips against yours, the way she looked at you like she never stopped wanting you. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and for a few blissful hours, you let yourself fall back into her arms without hesitation, without logic, without fear.

But now, you can’t help but think about how stupid this all is.

You kissed Vi.

You slept with Vi.

You let her in again.

And worse—you wanted to.

You let out a shaky laugh, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You pressed your forehead against the cool wood of the counter, closing your eyes for a moment as you tried to gather your thoughts.

“I’m so stupid, Mel,” you muttered. “I really thought I had a handle on everything. But then I… I kissed her and the next thing I knew was that she was in my bed. And, God, I don’t know what I was thinking—I don’t know what I was doing.”

“Okay, first of all, stop right there,” she interrupted firmly. “Don’t call yourself stupid. It’s not like you planned it, right? Things happen.”

“It’s just,” you admitted. “I shouldn’t have. I know shouldn’t have. I should have known better—”

You stopped, swallowing hard.

“She said she wanted to keep seeing me and I… I remembered what it felt like before everything got messy. I got distracted and I let it happen.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and you could almost hear Mel’s mind working, piecing things together in a way you couldn’t.

“Listen, okay?” Mel says, her voice taking on that no-nonsense edge you know so well. “You set a boundary, and Vi agreed to it. That’s important. What happened last night is something you two will have to figure out later. But for now, stop beating yourself up over it. You made a decision and you’ve been clear about that with her. She respects it, right?”

You take a deep breath, then sigh. “Yeah, she said she would. She agreed but… fuck, I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, babe,” Mel says with a soft laugh, but it’s filled with affection, like she’s talking to a stubborn child who just won’t see reason. “Trust me when I say, the fact that you set a boundary, that you had the strength to draw one, is huge. If you think you fucked up. So what? You’ll figure it out. You always have. Focus on something else. Your bookshop, for example. Try not to think about her. Besides, I don’t think Vi would push you too much right now. She may be impulsive, but she’s always been really good with that sort of thing, hasn’t she? Respecting you, I mean. From what I remember, that girl pretty much worshipped you.”

You stop to think.

“I guess…”

You sigh to yourself, letting her words sink in.

“You’re right,” you whisper softly. “I need to stop overthinking it. It just feels like I’m always just one step behind, now.”

Mel’s voice softens in response, “You’re exactly where you need to be, babe. Just take it slow.”

You smile, a small, bittersweet thing. It’s not exactly the answer you want, but it’s enough for now. You close your eyes, breathing slowly. When you open them again, you’re looking at the books surrounding you.

You lean back against the counter, the warmth of the tea still in your hands, but the comfort of it slips away as the conversation with Mel fades. She wrapped things up quickly, a light laugh in her voice as she mentioned something about Jayce needing her attention—probably a work thing, or one of his latest projects with his lab partner, Viktor, that she always described with a fond sigh.

You knew she was right. But no matter how many times you told yourself to focus, to push it aside, your mind kept drifting back to her.

You can’t help it.

But in this quiet morning, with the books and the soft light filtering through the windows, all you can do is wonder. Wonder if she’s still there, in your apartment, still curled up under the covers where you left her—or if she’s already gone, slipping quietly out the door as if nothing happened.

A part of you hopes she’s still there, that somehow, impossibly, you haven’t pushed her away with the same intensity you’ve been pulling yourself apart. You think about the way her skin had felt beneath your fingertips, the way her lips had tasted when you kissed her last night, the feeling of her in your arms.

But the other part of you wonders if that’s too much to hope for. Maybe it was just a moment. That maybe she’s already out of your life again, just like before.

You push away from the counter, walking slowly across the room as if putting some distance between you and the thoughts might make them stop. The tea is lukewarm now, forgotten in your hands. Your fingers brush the spines of a few books, but none of them seem to hold your attention.

The silence presses back in and you wonder all over again. What is she doing? What is she thinking?

You glance at the clock on the wall. It’s late enough that it feels like she would’ve left by now, if she was going to. You wonder if she’s even still awake.

But soon, the sun is setting just past the window, and you’re sure she’s not there anymore—not that she’d have a reason to stay anyway. You were clear from the beginning.

No commitment.

The bell above the bookshop door jingles softly as you lock up for the night, the key turning in the old brass lock with a quiet click. The streets outside are painted in the dim glow of streetlights, the sky a deep indigo, city lights flickering in the distance. You pull your coat tighter around yourself as you walk, but your mind is elsewhere.

It’s been elsewhere all day.

No matter how hard you tried to busy yourself, Vi had stayed lodged in the back of your thoughts.

The evening feels slower than it should. You walk the familiar route home, your mind circling back to last night.

You push open the door to your apartment, the silence greeting you. You leave your coat by the door, slipping off your shoes, feeling tired. Honestly, you expected to come home to the disarray of an unfinished night, but when you enter your bedroom, you pause.

The bed is made. The pillows are arranged neatly at the head, the blankets smoothed over the sheets, edges tucked in. For a moment, you just stand there, staring at it. It almost feels… wrong. It’s like Vi had been here, had left, and then carefully erased every trace of herself.

A sigh slips from your lips, and you move toward the bed, you body heavy as you slump onto the mattress, your limbs sinking into the sheets. Your fingers graze the smooth surface where Vi had slept, where you had slept together.

You don’t want to admit it. You don’t want to admit that you miss her.

Your breath hitches as you turn onto your side, the cool sheets brushing against your skin, but your mind is still caught up in the thought of her.

You try to push it all away, but your heart doesn’t listen.

You sigh as you close your eyes for moment. When you open them back up again, your gaze falls on the nightstand.

There, catching the light from the bedside lamp, is something shiny.

Vi’s lighter.

Your fingers hover over it, unsure if you should even touch it. You should put it away. You should leave it alone.

But instead, you let your fingers trace the cool metal, the edges of it smooth beneath your touch.

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. You don’t know whether to throw it away or keep it as some strange token of a night you never meant to happen.

You pick up the lighter slowly, your fingers brushing against the cold metal. And for a second, you almost don’t know what to do with it. It feels heavier in your hand than it should and you turn it over, the tiny engravings catching the light.

Stupid, you think, but the word feels hollow. Vi is so stupid.

Her lighter sits in your hand, reminding you of everything you tried to bury, the boundary you tried to set, every reason you told yourself this was a bad idea.

And yet, even as your mind runs in circles, you can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corner of your lips.

You don’t want to miss her. You really don’t.

But you can’t help it.

You set the lighter back down on the nightstand with a small clink.

And throughout the rest of the evening, you still can’t get Vi out of your head.

The room is quieter now, and the shadows stretch long against the walls, the night growing darker and darker out the window. You should be asleep, but instead, your mind keeps drifting back to her. You try not to think about her—about last night, the way she kissed you, the way everything felt like it was falling back into place, even though you know you shouldn’t let it.

And you shouldn’t text her. You shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

But you are.

Before you even realize what you’re doing, you have your phone in your hand, unlocking it without a second thought. Your fingers hover over the screen.

It’s a bad idea. You know it’s a bad idea.

But your thumbs move anyway.

You immediately regret it, because you know where this will go, what will come next. You shouldn’t be texting her. You shouldn’t have said anything at all.

The phone buzzes in your hand a second later, and you almost hesitate before you look at the message. But when you do, you can feel your pulse pick up.

It’s too casual, too quick. She’s trying to play it off, like she didn’t just feel the same pull, like she didn’t want you to text her just as badly. You can almost hear the edge of her voice, trying to sound nonchalant, like it doesn’t matter. Like it’s no big deal.

But you know her better than that.

You should stop here. You should put your phone down, pretend you never sent a message, pretend nothing ever happened.

Then, she texts you again—

You stare at the screen, your heart beating a little faster, a little harder than it should. Something tightens in your chest, the reality of what’s happening sinking in with each second that ticks by.

You told yourself you wouldn’t do this. That you wouldn’t let this happen again.

You should stop her. Tell her no. Forget it.

You know that’s what you’re supposed to do, that’s what you want to do.

But you don’t.

And the knock on your door comes sooner than you expected. You glance at the clock, feeling a little jolt of surprise as you realize it’s only been a few minutes, not ten.

You look at the nightstand. The lighter. It catches your eye and pick it up without thinking, fingers wrapping around it. For a moment, you just stand there, turning the lighter over in your hand, staring at the metal as if it could answer the questions you’ve been asking yourself. Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just stop?

You don’t know the answers. You don’t even know what you’re hoping for, or why, after all this time, it still feels so impossible to let go.

The knock comes again, a little louder this time, and you move.

Your fingers tighten around the lighter as you hesitate, standing just behind the door. You consider turning around, locking it for good, pretending you never sent that text. Pretending you don’t feel the way your heart pounds faster with every second that passes.

But your body betrays you. Before you can think twice, you exhale and pull the door open.

Vi is there, standing in the hallway. She looks like she got here too fast, like she barely gave herself a chance to think before she was knocking. Her hoodie is slouched over her frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the ink curling around her forearms. Baggy jeans hang loose on her hips and her hair is a mess, sticking up in places like she’s been running her hands through it the whole way over, like maybe she’s just as unsettled by this as you are.

But then you look up at her eyes.

She looks at you like she’s starving. Like she’s been waiting for this moment longer than she’d ever admit.

But how could she be starving? You wonder. You were just with her last night.

Her gaze drags over you slowly, making your breath hitch. She shifts on her feet, hands stuffed into the front pocket of her hoodie, but you can tell she’s holding herself back. Like she wants to close the space between you, step inside before you change your mind. Like she’s afraid you’ll change your mind.

You swallow, suddenly hyperaware of the weight of the lighter in your palm. You glance down at it, fingers fidgeting with the cool metal, trying to focus on something other than the way Vi is looking at you.

It doesn’t help.

“Your lighter,” you murmur, lifting it slightly, as if that explains everything.

As if that’s why she’s here.

Vi’s lips twitch, like she might smirk, but it never fully forms.

She doesn’t look at the lighter. She just keeps looking at you.

“Right,” she breathes, but she doesn’t take the lighter from your hand.

She doesn’t even glance at it. She’s just looking at you.

You should probably say something. You should probably take a step back, put some kind of space between you before this becomes something you can’t take back.

But neither of you moves. Neither of you blinks. You can hear her breathing.

And then—

You don’t know who moves first, if it’s her hand brushing against yours as she finally reaches for the lighter, or if it’s you stepping just slightly closer, your body betraying you in the way it always does when it comes to her.

But suddenly, she’s inside, the door closing behind her, and you’re in each other’s space, too close. Way too close.

Her big hands find your face before you can think, rough and warm, fingers threading into your hair as her mouth crashes into yours. The lighter slips from your hand, hitting the floor with a soft thud, forgotten the moment her tongue slips past your lips and into your mouth.

Vi groans desperately, kissing you like she’s making up for lost time—even though it’s barely even been a full day since she had you—like she’s trying to carve herself back into the parts of you that have tried to forget her. And maybe that’s why you let her. Maybe that’s why you kiss her back just as hard, hands fisting in the fabric of her hoodie, pulling her closer, trying to drown in her.

You don’t stop to think.

You don’t stop at all.

Somehow, you’re moving, stumbling, your back hitting the bedroom door, then the wall, then the bed. Vi is all over you—her hands, her mouth, pushing you onto the bed she had made just this morning, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your clothes disappear in the haze of it, pulled and tugged and discarded without hesitation. She’s on top of you, her skin hot against yours, her breath shaky as she drags her lips down your throat, over your collarbone, leaving a path of hickeys as she goes.

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

“Need you,” Vi whimpers into your chest, hands kneading and groping your tits with a groan.

You moan as she takes a nipple into your mouth, your nails dragging across her bare back, leaving light scratches over her tattoos and Vi swears she’ll lose her mind if you stop doing that.

She hovers over you, her body caging you in, her hands gripping the sheets on either side of your head like she needs something to hold onto or she might fall apart. Her face is inches from yours, her breath warm against your lips, and when you look up at her, your eyes widen.

She looks wrecked. Desperate.

Her brows are drawn together, her lips parted, her eyes blown wide with something that looks dangerously close to pleading.

She needs you.

Not just your body. You.

And it’s terrifying, because you don’t know what to do with that. You don’t know how to take the way she’s looking at you. Her fingers twitch in the sheets, and she ducks her head, pressing her forehead against yours, like she needs to feel you just to convince herself you’re still here, still beneath her, still letting her have this.

But instead, you reach up, threading your fingers into her messy pink hair, tugging her down, pulling her mouth back to yours.

Vi barely has a second to react before you flip her over, pressing her into the mattress as you straddle her. Her breath catches and her hands immediately slide down to your hips, her fingers slightly slipping past the waistband of your panties. She looks up at you like she’s dazed, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

You don’t give her time to think. You press your mouth to her jaw, her neck, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses down her throat. She shudders beneath you, her grip tightening, but she doesn’t stop you. She just watches, like she’s afraid to blink, like she doesn’t want to miss a single second of this.

So you keep going. Lower.

Your lips graze the sharp lines of her collarbone, the faint taste of salt and skin lingering on your tongue. You trace the outline of her tattoos with your fingertips, feeling the way her breath stutters, the way her strong muscles tense beneath your touches. Her abs are tight, perfectly sculpted, and when you press a kiss right at the center of them, she lets out a breathy, broken sound that only makes the fabric of your panties wetter.

“Ah, fuck,” Vi mutters, barely a whisper, barely there.

Your hands skim lower, your fingertips brushing against the soft trail of pink hair that leads beneath her waistband. Vi tenses, her stomach twitching under your touch, but she doesn’t stop you. If anything, she melts further into the bed, her fingers sliding from your waist to the soft flesh of your thighs, gripping them a little too tightly, you’re sure you’re bound to see later as faint bruises.

You undo her belt slowly, your fingers working at the buckle, teasing just enough to make her squirm beneath you. God, it’s getting harder and harder to breathe, Vi thinks, her head tipped back against your pillow, her knuckles white where they grip onto your legs.

“Please, baby,” she begs.

She looks ruined already, and you haven’t even touched her properly yet.

And maybe that’s what makes you slow down, what makes you savor this.

“What is it, Violet?” you murmur lowly, teasing, and just a little cruel.

Vi shudders beneath you, her grip on your thighs tightening, her body going tense for a split second before it completely melts back into the mattress.

And then, she whimpers.

It’s soft, barely there, but you hear it, wrecked and desperate, slipping past her lips before she can stop it. Her head tips back against the pillow, her chest rising and falling in shaky breaths, her hands twitching as your legs.

“What’s wrong, Vi?” you taunt softly, fingers slipping under the waistband of her jeans, tracing just beneath the fabric of her boxers. “You can use your words, can’t you?”

“I-I…”

You hum in response, looking up to meet her gaze as you begin to tug her jeans down her legs before throwing them onto the floor somewhere. Vi swears she could faint at the sight of you down between her legs, pulling at her boxers with that knowing look in your eyes, staring down at her like prey.

“Please, touch me,” she says finally, whining softly as she watches you pull her boxers down. “I don’t care what you do, just touch me.”

You can’t help but smile softly at her words. You were never one to deny her whenever she begged so prettily for you.

So, after short second, you finally drag a finger up her wet folds, brushing against her sensitive clit, before slipping two fingers inside her needy pussy with a squelch. So wet. Vi shudders, her biceps flexing as she pulls at the sheets, whimpering your name softly at the feeling of your fingers.

God, it’s been so long since she felt you inside her. Too long. And she needs more of it. More. Please.

You litter kisses along her inner thigh, curling your fingers over and over again. Her hips buck against your hand, craving for more and more friction as her velvety walls wrap around your digits, coating them with her slick.

“Ah, ngh, p-please—” Vi whines, her back arching slightly off the bed. “Please don’t stop—”

And you didn’t plan to.

Eventually, you speed up, pumping your fingers in and out of her, your teasing mouth inching closer and closer between her legs before wrapping your lips around her sensitive clit and sucking hard. Vi tenses immediately, instinctively trying to pull away from the overwhelming pleasure, but you hold her in place as her hands thread through your hair and tugging softly.

You fuck your fingers in and out faster, her legs tensing beside you. She moaned loud, her walls clenching around your fingers as they curled inside of her more vigorously with each thrust. Beads of sweat roll down her temples, panting heavily as she looks down to see you fucking her diligently and fuck, it’s the second hottest thing she’s every seen—the first being you cumming because of her.

God, she was so close. You could feel her getting tighter.

She even swears she could cum from just the sight of you between her legs alone.

“You feel so good, Violet,” you mutter softly enough for her to hear as you press your face closer to her dripping pussy. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

Oh, fuck fuck fuck—

“Y-Yeah—Hah, yes—I’m—Fuck!”

You hum as she cums on your digits, your fingertips brushing that spongy spot deep in her cunt as her slick drips down your hand. You fuck her through her orgasm, letting her ride out her high, her legs trembling as she whines and whimpers, feeling sensitive under your touch.

Vi is sprawled out against your bed, breathing heavily, her skin flushed, her body still shivering. She feels weightless, like she’s floating, like her entire existence has been reduced to this—this hazy, breathless state of complete and utter bliss.

Her arms are slack against the sheets, fingers curling weakly into the fabric. She blinks up at the ceiling, dazed, her mind fuzzy, lips parted as she struggles to catch her breath. Every inch of her feels sensitive, like her body isn’t even her own anymore.

“Holy shit,” she breathes.

She turns her head slightly, eyes heavy-lidded as they find you looking up at her from between her legs, you fingers and your lips glistening. You’re watching her, looking entirely too pleased with yourself, and Vi thinks—yeah, she probably looks pretty fucking ruined right now.

And she is.

Completely. Utterly. Happily.

She lets out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh, dragging a hand down her face.

Vi barely gives herself a second to recover before she reaches for you, her movements still loose and lazy, but her grip—her grip is strong.

“Fuck,” she rasps, breath still uneven. Then her hands are on your thighs, firm and possessive. “Come here.”

Before you can process it, before you can even think, Vi hoists you up with that ridiculous, unfair strength of hers, flipping you with ease like you weigh nothing at all. A startled gasp escapes your lips, but she doesn’t give you time to protest—her hands slide down to your hips, fingers digging into your skin, manhandling you into place, and practically ripping your damp panties off of you.

And then—oh.

You realize exactly what she’s doing a second too late.

Your knees settle on either side of her head, your dripping cunt hovering just above her mouth, and Vi tilts her head back against the pillow, looking up at you with that look—hungry, dazed, smug as fuck.

“Better,” she mutters, hands squeezing at your thighs, pulling you just a little closer. “Stay right there, baby.”

She doesn’t give you time to hesitate.

She just pulls you down.

Oh. Oh.

Her grip tightens on your thighs, guiding your glistening cunt into her mouth. And the second you feel her tongue, hot and wet, a sharp gasp rips from your throat, breaking into a moan. Your hands move on instinct, tangling in her hair, fingers threading through her soft, messy strands as your legs squeeze around her head. And god, Vi fucking loves it. She groans the second you grab at her, the sound vibrating against your pussy. Her fingers dig in just enough to keep you from moving, just enough to make sure you don’t go anywhere—not that you could. Not with the way she’s holding you there, devouring you like she’s starving, even though she had her mouth on you just the night before.

Your breath is coming too fast, your body trembling with every teasing of her tongue, every deep, hungry groan she lets out when you tug at her hair just a little harder.

“S-Shit, Vi—”

Your body tenses, pleasure building low and hot in your stomach, and Vi knows. She can feel it in the way your thighs tremble, in the way your hands pull harder at her hair, in the way your moans get higher, louder, breathier, more desperate.

Vi doesn’t even care if your thighs are pressing down hard against her face, your body closing in around her. She doesn’t have to breathe, if it means keeping her face pressed against your delicious sopping pussy. It doesn’t matter. She welcomes it, leans into it, even.

Her hands stay locked on your thighs as she drinks you in, loud and messily. Her breathing is ragged, but she doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t want to. The feeling of your thighs, smooth and so soft and plush, against her face, her cheeks, drives her absolutely insane. She can feel your pulse racing, your body trembling, and it only pushes her harder, makes her need you even more, makes her want to make you cum as many times as she can.

“M-Mmm—I–Fuck!”

The way you taste, the way you sound—it’s the most intoxicating thing she’s ever known. She loves it when you sound like this—dirty, loud, moaning—reminiscent of a pornstar, although she never reallyenjoyed that sort of thing when all she had was you to fantasize in about. She could never get enough of you, could never pull away, could never stop. Every part of you feels like it belongs to her, like she’s been waiting for this for so long, like it’s the only thing that matters.

She moans into you, the sound muffled under your legs, making you shudder above her. Her hands move to your thighs, pulling you even closer, urging you to keep going, to give her more. It’s all she wants.

“Mm—g-gonna cum,” you whine, pulling at her pink curls even harder, “Violet—I’m gonna cum!”

Your voice comes out broken, breathless, barely more than a whimper.

Vi only hums in response, sending another jolt of pleasure through your trembling body. She doesn’t slow down, doesn’t ease up—if anything, she doubles down, her grip tightening even more on your thighs, her tongue working you over ruthlessly.

Your fingers tighten in her hair, pulling, tugging, but it only makes her groan, only makes her hold you harder, keeping you exactly where she wants you—pressed against her hungry mouth. The tension coils impossibly tight in your stomach, every nerve set ablaze, and then—

It snaps.

“Nngh—ffffuck—”

Your body arches, a choked moan spilling from your lips as you cum all over Vi’s face.

Your thighs tremble around her, but Vi doesn’t stop. She holds you steady as your orgasm rolls through you, her mouth still working you over, her tongue dragging out every second of your orgasm until you’re shaking.

And still—she keeps going.

You whimper, overstimulated, your body jerking in her hands, but Vi doesn’t let up. She hums again and licks into you deeper, drinking in everything you have to give, like she could stay here forever. Because truthfully? She could.

“V-Vi, wait, I—”

The overstimulation feels like its too much, pleasure spilling into something overwhelming, making your thighs tremble around her head.

She hears you—of course, she does. But she doesn’t care.

Vi only groans, like she loves the feeling of your hands in her hair, loves the way you taste her tongue too much to even consider stopping. She wants this—needs this—like she can’t bring herself to pull away now that she has you exactly where she wants you.

Every flick of her tongue against your swollen clit sends another shiver rolling through you, your body twitching, oversensitive and helpless under her mouth.

The room is filled with the sounds of it—the slick, obscene noises of Vi’s mouth working against your dripping pussy. Every stroke of her tongue against your cunt is met with a sound so filthy it makes your face burn.

The wet, filthy noises fill your ears, mixing with your broken moans, with Vi’s low, satisfied groans as she pulls you closer, as she buries her face deeper, as she keeps pushing, keeps taking, keeps pulling you apart with her mouth until your body gives in again, pleasure crashing over you too fast, too hard.

It’s not long until you cum on her face again for the second time in a row.

Your thighs clamp around her head, your fingers twisting in her hair, but Vi still doesn’t stop.

You cum again just minutes later, too sensitive, an ns it gets to a point where you can’t even remember if it’s the fourth or the fifth time.

And god, she could do this forever.

Vi is completely gone.

Dazed, lost, utterly pussy drunk. She doesn’t even think about stopping, doesn’t even acknowledge the way your body shakes above her, too caught up in the taste of you, in the way you feel against her tongue. She moans softly, pressing her lips against your folds, leaving open-mouthed kisses between slow, teasing strokes of her tongue.

And then, barely above a whisper, she breathes out words meant more for you than for herself—but it doesn’t even feel like she’s talking to you. She’s talking to your pussy.

“Fuck, missed you,” she murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss against you, dragging her tongue through the slick mess she’s made. “Missed you so much.”

Her hands slide up your thighs, slow and possessive, like she’s trying to memorize the way your skin feels against her palms.

“Fuck, you’re so good to me,” she whispers against your slick cunt, pressing her lips to you again like she’s practically making out with your pussy. “So fuckin’ perfect. Can’t—”

She cuts herself off with another deep, slow drag of her tongue, her whole body shuddering.

“God, you’re so perfect.”

She sounds wrecked. Like she’s wanted this for so long that now that she has you, she never wants to come up for air. The wet, messy sounds fill the air, the lewd squelching mixing with her whispers and her low and needy groans as she buries herself in you again, licking into you like she’ll never get another chance.

She doesn’t care if she breathes. Doesn’t care if she suffocates beneath the softness of your thighs. It would be a fucking perfect way to go.

And soon, your body can’t take it anymore.

The pleasure crashes over you one last time, knocking the air from your lungs. Your legs tighten around Vi’s head again, a moan spilling from your lips as your body tenses, then shudder. Your fingers slip from her hair, your body slumping forward as the last tremors of your orgasm roll through your body.

But Vi catches you before you can collapse.

Strong arms wrap around you, carefully turning you over, her touches gentle as she lays you down on the bed, pressing you into the soft sheets. You barely register it, still floating, still reeling, your limbs loose and useless. Your eyes flutter, heavy with exhaustion, as you try breathe properly.

Vi hovers over you, arms braced on either side of your head, her face still flushed.

But she isn’t looking at your body—not anymore. She’s looking at you. And fuck, you’re beautiful.

Completely and utterly ruined beneath her, your skin still damp with sweat, your lips parted as you struggle to catch your breath. Your eyes, half-lidded, barely able to stay open, dazed and glassy with pleasure. She watches the slow rise and fall of your chest, the way your body still twitches slightly from the aftershocks, the way your fingers curl weakly against the sheets.

Vi swallows hard. Because right now, she feels like she’s falling in love with you all over again.

Like nothing has changed.

Like she never fucked up, never let you slip through her fingers, never gave you a reason to be afraid of her, of what she could do to your heart.

She wants to kiss you, wants to hold you, wants to pull you into her arms and tell you everything she never said before—how she never stopped loving you, how she never will.

But she can’t.

Because last night, you were clear.

No commitment.

And Vi knows why. She knows she hurt you. Knows you don’t trust her anymore. Knows that if she pushes, if she asks for more, you’ll pull away again—maybe for good.

“Are you okay?” she asks too softly.

Her fingers twitch where they rest beside your head, itching to touch you, to smooth back the damp strands of hair stuck to your forehead, to run her knuckles over your flushed cheek. But she doesn’t. She stays hovering over you, watching the way your lips part, your lashes fluttering as you try to keep your eyes open.

For a second, you don’t answer. Maybe you’re too far gone, still floating in the aftermath, your body too heavy to form words.

Vi waits. She just wants to hear your voice, wants to know that you’re still here, with her, even if only for a little while.

You manage a slow nod, your head barely moving against the pillow, eyes drooping.

“Yeah,” you murmur, voice soft, hazy. “I’m okay.”

Vi tells herself she should move. Should pull away, give you space, remind herself that this isn’t what it used to be. But fuck, it’s hard.

Carefully, she reaches out, brushing a strand of damp hair from your forehead, her fingers barely grazing your skin. It’s a small touch, barely anything at all, but her heart clenches.

Because this feels more dangerous than anything else.

Because it makes her want things she shouldn’t.

Vi watches as your eyes flutter shut, your body fully giving in to exhaustion, and she swallows the words she wants to say. The ones that would only ruin this.

Instead, she just stays like this for a little longer, hovering over you, letting herself pretend—just for a second—that she still gets to have you. She lets herself imagine what it would be like to have you completely, the way she used to, the way she’s always wanted to. She dreams of kissing you like this every morning, of holding you close, of being the one you run to when the world feels too heavy.

Vi’s fingers twitch again, aching with the need to touch you, to feel you even though you’re already here, already so close.

Her gaze softens, something tender in her eyes as she watches you sleep, and then, without thinking, she lowers herself, just a little, her lips brushing against your bare shoulder—once, twice, three times.

I love you. Again.

She pulls back, keeping her forehead pressed lightly against your shoulder for just a moment. She doesn’t expect you to feel it.

And when she breathes you in, pressing her face against your skin, she lets a tear slip from her eyes.

It trails down her cheek, disappearing into the sheets before anyone—not even herself—can pretend it was ever there. She doesn’t sob, doesn’t make a sound. Just breathes you in, feeling the way you breath beneath hers.

Because she knows, when you wake up, you’ll pull away.

And she’ll have to pretend that none of this ever meant anything at all.

Vi keeps coming back.

At night, always at night.

At least three times a week, sometimes more.

Sometimes so late that you’re already in bed, the city outside quiet. Sometimes earlier, when you’re still awake, still pretending you’re busy, pretending that your heart doesn’t stutter every time she knocks on your door.

And you don’t know if it’s a good thing.

It’s easy, too easy, to let her in. To watch her lean against the doorframe, waiting for you, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her hoodie, her hair messy. To pretend like you don’t already know how this night is going to end before she even steps inside.

She never stays past sunrise.

That’s the new rule, even though you haven’t really talked about it. No strings, no expectations, no commitment. Just hands on skin, lips crashing together, your bodies tangled in the sheets until you’re both too tired to think about anything else.

But in the morning, the bed is always empty.

She never asks for more, and you never offer it. She doesn’t press, doesn’t push. She gives you space, respects the boundaries you set, even though you can see the way it kills her sometimes.

Even though, you know it. Vi wants more.

So much more.

But she doesn’t ask.

And you don’t really do anything to stop her from coming back.

You tell yourself it’s fine. That you’re fine. That this arrangement, this thing you have, isn’t hurting anyone. But sometimes, when the door closes behind her and you’re left alone in your apartment, you wonder if you’re lying to yourself.

There’s not much talking either. As much as Vi wants there to be.

She wants to talk. She wants to ask things—how your day was, what book you were reading when she knocked on your door, what you had breakfast, if you were feeling tired, if you ever think about her when she’s not here. If you miss her.

But every time she tries, the words never make it out. Because the moment the door closes behind her, the moment her hands find your waist, your fingers slip beneath her shirt, or your mouth brushes against her jaw, she forgets how to speak. Each and every time.

And then there’s nothing but the heat and her hands and the sound of you falling apart beneath her.

She swallows her words and listens to your moans instead.

She listens to the way your breath catches when she drags her teeth down your throat. The way you gasp when her fingers press into your hips, when she pulls you closer, when she spreads you open and takes her time. She memorizes the sounds you make, the way they stutter when she moves just right, when she makes you come undone for her, again and again.

She wonders if you feel the same way as she does. She wants to know. She wants to ask you what you’re thinking, if you’re feeling the same ache in your chest when the door clicks shut behind her.

Does you miss her when she’s gone?

But Vi knows. She knows.

She knows by the way you kiss her, by the way you melt into her touch every time she pulls you closer. She knows by the way you whisper her name when she’s inside you, when she’s pressed up against you, moving in time with every breath you take, every kiss, every mark she leaves on your skin. You might not say it, but she can feel it in the way your hands never seem to want to leave her. In the way your body curves into hers, like it was meant to.

And Vi can’t lie to herself.

She’s addicted to it. To the sex. To you. To this.

And god, she missed it. She missed everything about you, every second, every touch, every kiss. She missed being inside you.bIt’s a selfish thing, she knows that. But she can’t help it. The way you fit around her, the way every inch of her sinks into you like she’s home—there’s nothing else like it. The way you pull her in deeper, the way your body trembles when you’re close, when you need her. The sound of your name on her lips, the feel of you under her, surrounding her. It’s addictive.

Vi doesn’t even stay in the mornings anymore.

On the first morning when you left her in your bed, the silence was unbearable. The way the bed was already cold when she woke up, the space beside her where you should have been. She hated it. She’d wake up, the daylight creeping through the blinds, and there you’d already be gone. She hated that. She hated the feeling of waking up alone.

But now, she leaves before you wake up.

She doesn’t want to.

But she does it anyway. She’s careful not to wake you, her hands sliding quietly over the sheets as she pushes herself up, slipping into her clothes in the half-light.

Even as she pulls on her boots, ties her laces, gathers the last of her things, she watches you for just a little longer. She watches you breathe, the soft curve of your back, the way your hair falls across your face, so peaceful, so unaware of her standing there. She watches your soft lips, the ones she loves kissing over and over, slightly parted, how the faint hint of a smile still playing at the edges, like you’re dreaming of something good. Something warm. Hopefully, it’s about her.

And she hates that she’s leaving. She hates that she’s not staying. She hates that this isn’t enough to keep her here, to keep her wrapped up in you.

But she knows if she stays any longer, if she lets herself sink back into the comfort of your body, she won’t be able to walk away.

So, she leaves.

And as the weeks pass, the more nights Vi spends with you, the more it begins to wear her down. It gets harder and harder every night.

At first, she told herself she wouldn’t ask for more. That she’d respect the boundaries you set, the ones that kept you both from falling into the mess of old habits, old wounds, old mistakes. She told herself that this was fine—that to have you like this, is better than not having you at all.

But the more she lies next to you, the more she holds you, the more it becomes clear that it isn’t enough. Not for herself. Not for you.

There are moments when she wakes up next to you, your body still pressed against hers, your breath soft and steady against her skin, and she feels like she’s drowning.

She wants to say it, needs to say it, but she swallows it every time. I want you back.

Instead, she keeps slipping in and out of your life like it’s all she’s allowed, like this is the way it has to be. And every time she walks away, it feels like a part of her is left behind—with you.

Vi wants more. She wants more of your laughter, the soft smiles you give when you think she’s not watching, the way your fingers curl into hers, the way you let her hold you when the night gets too quiet. She wants to feel your body against hers all the time, not just for short moments when she’s in your bed, not just when the lights are low and the world is far away. She wants to ask for more—wants to beg you to let her be a part of your life again, to let her fix the things you left her for.

She wants to fight for this.

But she doesn’t know how.

Vi knows she can’t keep pretending that this is all she wants.

She’s never stopped loving you. The part of her that’s still so in love with you, the part that never quite stopped hoping for the chance to make things right, even though she knows how much damage was done.

She just wants you back.

And one night, it slips.

It’s nearly 2AM when your phone buzzes on the nightstand, pulling you from the haze of half-sleep. The glow of the screen illuminates your room, and for a moment, you lie there, staring at it in the silence. You blink, your mind still foggy, but the text is there, staring back at you.

You hesitate.

But tonight feels different. You’re not sure if this is a night you want to invite her in.

Still, your thumb hovers over the screen, heart pounding just a little faster than it should.

You hear a knock at your door barely a minute later.

Like she was waiting for you to respond, like Vi had been standing there, holding herself just outside your door, waiting for the green light.

She knocks again, louder this time.

You swing your legs out of bed, your pulse rushing in your ears as you step toward the door. You hesitate for just a second before wrapping your fingers around the doorknob. You sigh, then pull the door open softly.

Vi is standing there, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, shoulders slightly hunched. Her hair is messy, strands falling over her forehead and then—when she sees you—she lets out a breath, like she wasn’t sure you’d actually open the door.

And then she smiles, just barely before it disappears a second later.

“It’s late, you know,” you murmur tiredly.

“I know,” she says, “Couldn’t sleep.”

You step aside, just enough for her to slip past you, and she does—wordlessly, like she already knew you’d let her in.

The door clicks shut behind her.

You don’t look at her right away. Instead, you turn, your feet carrying you toward the kitchen, as if you need something to do with your hands.

“I’m gonna make some tea,” you whisper, more to yourself than to her.

Vi doesn’t answer.

You hear the faint scuff of her boots against the floor as she follows you, but she stays quiet, leaning against the frame of the kitchen. You don’t have to turn around to know she’s watching you.

You move through the small space, reaching for the electronic kettle, filling it and heating up the water. Your hands work methodically, pulling out two mugs, grabbing the tea bags from the cabinet.

Anything to keep yourself from looking at her.

But Vi doesn’t need distractions. She doesn’t need something to busy her hands.

She just stares. Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely over her chest, she watches you move around the kitchen like you’re something fragile, something to be memorized.

She’s dazed, lovestruck.

You don’t even notice the way her lips part slightly, the way her fingers twitch like she wants to reach out, to pull you into her, to press her face into your neck and just breathe you in.

But Vi can tell something’s wrong. She can feel it in the way your shoulders tense as you stand by the counter, the way your fingers tremble slightly as you reach for the mugs.

You want to talk.

Vi’s chest tightens. She knows that look. She knows you, knows how your mind works, how you retreat when you’re about to say something you don’t want to say. And she knows what’s coming. You’re going to tell her this needs to stop. That whatever this is—these nights together—it can’t keep happening. That it doesn’t mean anything, even though you both know that’s a lie.

Vi doesn’t let you say it.

Before you can turn around, before you can even open your mouth, she steps closer, wrapping her arms around you from behind. You tense at first, caught off guard, but Vi doesn’t let go. She presses her face into your hair, inhaling softly, her grip tightening around your waist.

She holds you like she’s afraid. Like if she lets go, you’ll slip through her fingers for good.

She doesn’t want to lose this, to lose you—again. Even if it’s selfish, even if she knows she has no right to ask for more, even if she knows she’s the reason you don’t trust her enough to ask for more.

And for the first time in a long time, Vi is scared.

“Don’t,” she mutters, barely a whisper against your skin. “Just… not yet.”

You go still in her arms.

Vi shuts her eyes, breathing you in, feeling the way your body fits against hers, the way you’re warm, real. She needs this. Needs you.

And as her hands slide down to your hips, pressing you slightly into the counter, you freeze the moment you feel it—something hard, pressing right against the curve of your ass.

For a second, you think you’re imagining it. That maybe your exhausted mind is playing tricks on you, reading too much into the way Vi stepped closer, the way it suddenly feels like she’s swallowing up the small space of your kitchen.

You inhale slowly, setting a teaspoon down with more care than necessary, your fingers tightening around the counter’s edge.

“Violet.” You warn her.

Vi doesn’t move.

Doesn’t back off. Doesn’t even flinch at the sharp edge in your tone. If anything, she shifts just slightly, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Like she planned it. The warmth of her body radiates against your back, close enough to feel, close enough to make your pulse stutter—because of course she’d do this. Of course she’d try to derail whatever conversation she knows is coming before you can even begin.

“What?”

She’s playing dumb. Acting innocent, like she isn’t pressing up against you with a strap bulging in her jeans.

“Violet.” Your voice is sharper this time, firmer, but not as steady as before.

Vi doesn’t care.

She sighs slowly, pressing forward, letting you feel her. The firm, deliberate push of her strap against your ass makes your breath hitch, your fingers gripping the counter a little tighter. She’s testing you, pushing her luck, trying to slip past the walls you’ve been so careful to rebuild.

She sighs again—low, deep—before dropping her head against your shoulder, her breath warm against your skin. Her eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, she just stays there, pressed against you, holding onto something she knows she’s about to lose. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t push any further.

She clenches her jaw, inhaling deeply, breathing you in like she’s trying to commit this moment to memory. Because she knows—fuck, she knows—that once you turn around, once you open your mouth, you’re going to say something that’s going to break her.

“I could take you right here,” Vi whispers, rough, almost pleading.

Her hands twitch at your hips, wanting to pull you back against her properly, to make you forget whatever you were about to say.

She presses against you harder, her strap firm against your ass, her breath hot against your neck. She knows what she’s doing. Knows how easy it would be to have you like this—to push the fabric of your sleep shorts down, to lift you onto the counter, to make you fall apart for her before you can even think about saying anything.

She swallows hard. “Please.”

You sigh, your resolve already slipping. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. But when you finally turn around, ready to face her, Vi doesn’t give you the chance to think.

She kisses you. Hard, desperate, like she’s been holding back for too long and can’t stand it anymore. Her hands move instantly, one gripping the counter beside you, the other finding your waist, fingers pressing in just enough to make you feel the heat of her palm through the thin fabric of your shirt. She’s close, too close, her body pressing into yours, her strap still firm between you.

The moment your lips part beneath hers, the second she hears the soft, breathy sound that slips from your throat, she loses it.

Her hands move like they have a mind of their own, sliding down your waist, over the curve of your hips, until her fingers slip beneath the waistband of your thin shorts. She palms your ass, squeezing, pulling you flush against her, making sure you feel every inch of her, making sure you know exactly what she wants.

And then her mouth is on your neck. She trails kisses down the column of your throat, slow at first, like she’s savoring the way your body reacts to her. But the second you moan—soft, breathless, completely unfiltered—Vi needs more. Her lips press harder, open-mouthed and eager, her teeth grazing over your sensitive skin before she soothes it with her tongue. She groans against your neck, her breath warm, her grip tightening on you like she’s starving for this, for you. Like she could spend the rest of the night right here, buried in your skin, listening to the sounds you make just for her.

“Fuck,” she mutters against your throat. “Please.”

Her fingers flex against your ass, squeezing, kneading, owning. She pulls you closer, hips rolling against yours, letting you feel how hard her strap is, how badly she needs you.

“Please, let me,” she begs, her words barely more than a whisper.

Her breath is shallow, warm against your skin as her lips trail over your neck again, kissing, nipping, barely in control. Vi’s fingers tremble, just slightly, where they grip the soft fabric of your shorts, and she’s trying to be patient, trying to hold back—but you can feel the way her body betrays her, the way she’s aching, the way she’s needing you in a way it almost hurts.

“Please,” she repeats, her voice strained, pleading. “Let me… make you feel good. Let me show you.”

And slowly, you move your hands to gently cradle Vi’s face, and her breath hitches. She freezes, her eyes meeting yours, those soft, blue eyes full of everything she’s been trying to hide. Vi lets out a breath, shaky and soft, as you move a strand of hair from her face, your fingers brushing against her skin. It’s almost too much, the way you’re looking at her, the way you’re holding her face like she’s the most important thing in the world.

She melts into your touch. Completely.

She could say it right now. She could.

The words are there, right on the tip of her tongue, fighting to escape. She wants to say them, more than anything, wants to let you know exactly how she feels, how much she’s always felt for you.

But she’s scared—scared that you’ll pull away, scared that you’ll look at her and say you don’t want her.

Vi’s breath is shallow as she watches you, her heart pounding in her chest as she waits, her hands resting gently on your waist. She doesn’t need to say anything, though, because you feel it—the way your breath catches as your eyes search hers, the way your lips are so close to hers now, the tension so tight it feels like it’s about to snap.

And then, finally, you kiss her again. It’s hungry—ravenous, the kind of kiss that makes your head spin, that makes your body surge forward before either of you can think, your lips crashing together desperately. Vi groans into your mouth, like she’s been starving for it.

Without missing a beat, she lifts you up, her hands sliding down to grip your ass, holding you up as your legs instinctively wrap around her waist. You gasp against her mouth, the feeling of being held so tightly, so securely, Vi doesn’t break the kiss. She doesn’t let go, her hands strong, the muscles in her arm flexing under her hoodie, as she carries you toward the living room, only a few steps away. The room is dark, the soft glow of the hallway light along the walls, but none of that matters.

When she reaches the couch, she gently sets you down onto the cushions, her lips trailing down your neck, nipping at your skin. Her hands are everywhere—gripping, caressing, exploring like she can’t get enough of you. And all you can do is pull her closer, with everything fading away as she continues to kiss you, touch you, take you in.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” she whispers against your skin, her hands trembling just slightly as she pulls at your shorts, eager to see more of you, to feel more of you.

Her hands finally slip under your shorts, fingers tracing the outline of your panties, and her breath hitches as she feels you, the softness of your skin, the dampness of the fabric. She can’t stop herself—can’t stop the way her body reacts to the sight of you, the taste of you, the way you move against her.

Vi’s breath catches all over again when she slips past your underwear, the wetness against her fingers telling her everything she needs to know. You were so fucking wet already—she hadn’t even touched you yet. A groan escaped her lips as she shifts closer, her hand moving slowly, to rub her fingers through your slick folds.

“Fuck,” she breathes.

Her fingertips press more firmly against you, finding your sensitive clit, feeling the wetness beneath her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” she whispers, barely keeping herself together, as she presses another soft kiss to your neck. “Wanna be good for you…”

Vi lifts her gaze, just enough to catch the look on your face—your eyes half-lidded, lips slightly parted. Her breath shudders as she draws her face closer, the heat of her skin brushing against yours, but her lips don’t quite touch yours. Her parted lips hover above yours, warm and so close you can feel her breath against your skin, a whisper of a kiss—just a breath away.

Vi’s gaze flickers to your lips and back to your eyes, her body so close that it feels impossible to think straight. She could kiss you right now, could close the distance and let the hunger between you take over completely, but she doesn’t.

Not yet.

Not until her fingers, down between your legs, playing with the softness of your skin, slide into you.

Her jaw slacks as you open your mouth to gasp against her lips, you eyes fluttering closed as you feel your walls wrap around two of her fingers. She goes in too smoothly, your cunt so fucking wet against her hand, and fuck, she thought she had to prepare you for her strap for a little bit, but with you so fucking wet like this—she’s sure she can slide the toy right in without any trouble.

You moan against her, your arms wrapping around her neck as she curls her fingers, the pads of her fingertips pressing against that spongy spot in your pussy repeatedly. A lazy smirk plays at her lips when you buck your hips against her palm, pushing your clit slightly against her skin.

She pumps her fingers in and out of your cunt, drinking your moans into her ears as she rolls her eyes back at the feeling of you, so warm against her.

It’s not long when she pulls her fingers out—just as your about to cum.

“V-Vi,” you whine, shaking your head in an attempt to ask her to keep her fingers inside. “M-More—”

She smiles and sits back on her knees, not giving into to your pleas too easily, although it was always hard for her to turn you down.

It only takes her a second to unbuttton her pants and pushing it downwards slightly along with her boxers, her strap springing out the lower she goes. She uses her hands to push your knees apart even further, her strap, long and black, resting against your lower stomach. You look up at her with pleading eyes, eyes begging her to keep going, with your pussy wet and glistening between your legs as she pulls you even closer, hands at the back of your thighs, pushing up your legs.

Vi swears she could pass out from the sight alone.

“You look so fucking beautiful right now,” she whispers.

You whine again and she only smirks.

“You want me inside, baby?” She asks, taking a hand to wrap around strap, moving the tip of it up and down against your wet heat. “Tell me.”

“Y-Yes, please—I-Inside—”

“Yeah?” She says, growing more arrogant by the second, slipping only a few teasing centimeters into your hole.

“Fuck—Violet, please!”

Vi rolls her eyes back again, lolling her head back and closing her eyes, reimagining the way you whine her name over and over.

She sighs and opens her eyes again to look down between your legs, watching the strap disappear into your cunt with a squelch as she slowly, slowly slides it in further and further, groaning at how tight you are around the dildo. One corner of her lips quirk up in a smirk only briefly, a breathy scoff falling from her lips as she buries it inside your pussy, down to the hilt, your skin pressing against her.

You feel your jaw drop at the stretch of her strap filling you, your hands gripping the cushions beneath your body as you gasp at the feeling of being so, so full. Your breath grows quick when Vi takes a few long seconds to pull back only slightly, the tip still inside of you, before slams her hips back into you, using your thighs as leverage to pull you closer, her strap hitting you deep inside your pussy.

She groans as you moan, watching you closely as you arch your back off of the couch in pleasure.

“Fuuuuck, yes,” Vi breathes, slamming her hips into you over and over. “You take me so well, baby.”

She gets high off of the sight of you, the sound of you. Using your hips to balance herself, she starts speeding up her thrusts, smiling lightly to herself. God, she loves watching your tits bounce as she fucks her strap into you.

“Shit—Uhngh, fuck, that’s it—”

Every time she thrusts her hips into you, the strap hits her just right, pressing against her clit—fuck. Her pace speeds up just at the thought of it, the feeling of it. Her hand pulls at the flesh of your thigh, watching the way her cock sinks into your pussy, the length of it glistening every time she pulled out, drunk off of the sound of your cunt squelching, the sound of your moans, showing her how good she’s making you feel.

More. More. More. Vi goes faster. She’s close, you can tell by the way her breath hitches, her mouth panting and whining, and her eyebrows furrowing and scrunching up. She feels it on her swollen sensitive clit. It feels so good, it’s so—

“I-I’m gonna cum, baby, I—” Vi whimpers.

You shift, pushing yourself up onto your elbows until you meet Vi with your chest, before pushing her down to sit on the cushions. With a groan, Vi leans back against the couch, watching in awe as you climb into her lap, straddling her hips and when you sink back onto her strap—fuck, she could’ve came right then.

“Keep going, Violet,” you whisper into her ear, before threading your fingers into her hair and pulling it hard so that she’s looking up at you.

Sweat rolls down Vi’s forehead as she shakes beneath you, trying to hold off her own orgasm to get more out of the way you ride her. Her hands rest at your hips, occasionally sliding down to grip your soft, plush thighs. You clit brushes against her happy trail as she bucks her hips up into you, her strap hitting deep, deep inside of you making you squirm above her.

Vi moans pathetically as you tug on her hair, her soft whimpers filling her ears. God, she was so fucking close!

“P-Please, fuck, I-I—” she whimpers into your mouth as you pull her in for a sloppy kiss.

“Gonna cum, Vi,” you moan against her lips.

“M-Me too—”

She looks up at you, eyes dazed and half lidded as she gasps, panting and trembling beneath you, her hands gripping your hips as you bounce on her strap. Bucking her hips up into you, Vi guides you into a quick rhythm, watching her strap disappear into your soaking cunt and each time you grind your hips down, she feels the end of it pressing against her sensitive clit, over and over and over and over… Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She doesn’t even realize how hard she’s gripping your hips, fingers dipping slightly into your skin as you ride her. She does know, however, that you’re probably just as close as her—so, so close—knows that it’s getting harder and harder for you to fuck yourself on her strap, especially when you start mindlessly babbling a stream of curses and moans. You’re pulling at her hair, jaw slacked, eyes rolling back, your tits bouncing in her face—she could cum at the sight.

“V-Vi—I-I’m—”

“F-Fuck, yes! Please, please, please—”

And with one last thrust of her hips, you sink onto the entire length of her cock, hitting that delicious, spongy spot in your soaking pussy. You tense above her, back arching, pressing your front against hers just as the strap presses against her clit.

Vi moans loudly, trying so very hard to keep her eyes open as she trembles beneath you, her hips stuttering violently as she cums at the sight of you, at the way the strap feels against her, at how she can feel your wet juices dripping onto her thighs. God, it feels so fucking good. Her hands make their way back to your waist, easing you slowly to ride out your high, even though her clit is already so fucking sensitivite. She enjoys the way you tremble in her lap, her head dropping to rest on your bare shoulder, panting and heaving against your skin.

You struggle for a couple minutes to catch your breath and a moment later, Vi whimpers pathetically when you shift slightly on her strap—she’s so sensitive.

“S-Sorry, one second,” you whisper, carefully moving to remove her strap from your heat.

Once you’re off, you help her out of the straps hurriedly, dropping them somewhere onto the carpet of your apartment and when you finish, Vi doesn’t waste another second until she pulls you back into her lap, closer against her. She closes her eyes, breathing in your scent as she nuzzles her face into your neck for just a moment before leaning her head back on the couch, lips parted, breathing heavily.

The room is quiet now, save for the lingering echoes of your ragged breaths. Your body is warm over Vi’s lap, your legs still trembling. Her hoodie is pushed up, bunched around her ribs, just past her toned abs, her skin hot beneath your fingertips. Her own fingers trail absently along your back in slow, lazy movements. You watch her, still catching your breath, your hands resting lightly against her chest.

She looks so pretty—lips slightly parted, a flush across her cheeks, her hair sticking to her damp forehead.

But then Vi’s fingers slip up your spine, and she hums, almost like a purr. She tilts her head slightly, opening her eyes just enough to look at you, her gaze heavy-lidded, still hazy with pleasure, dazed, distracted, her pupils blown wide. She’s looking at you like she always does—like you hung the moon, like she’s still yours.

And then, before she can stop herself, before she even registers the words spilling from her lips—

“I love you.”

Your whole body stiffens.

Vi freezes, her eyes going wide after realizing what she said. Fuck. She didn’t mean to say it—at least not now, not like this.

Her pulse hammers against her ribs, her mind racing through the damage she might’ve just done.

You don’t move. Don’t breathe. Your eyes lock onto hers, wide and startled, your lips parting slightly like you might say something, but nothing comes.

Panic flares in Vi’s chest. Shit. Shit. Say something, fix it, play it off—

“I—” Vi stammers, shaking her head, forcing out a short, nervous laugh. “I mean—shit, that was—I didn’t mean—”

The silence that follows is deafening.

You pull away slipping from Vi’s lap like the air between you has turned solid. Your shirt is the first thing you find, tossed carelessly to the floor, and you tug it over your head, not bothering to fix it properly. You don’t blink. You don’t look at Vi. Your eyes drift somewhere else—past the couch, past the walls—like if you stare hard enough, you can pretend you didn’t just hear those words.

Vi scrambles behind you, clumsy and rushed, trying to catch up to you.

“Just–Just let me explain—” her voice cracks, rough and unsteady, and she fumbles with the waistband of her jeans, pulling them up in a frantic mess, fingers shaking as she tugs her hoodie back into place.

But you don’t respond.

You don’t even look at her.

And fuck, Vi’s never looked smaller than she does right now—standing there in your apartment, jeans not even fully zipped, hoodie crooked on her shoulders, hair a mess, her heart bleeding out onto the floor between you both—but none of it matters. All she’s thinking about is you. The way your arms are wrapped tight around yourself, how your voice trembles, how you refuse to look at her.

You told her. You told her from the start. No commitment.

And she agreed. Because what choice did she have?

If the only way she could have you was like this, Vi would’ve taken it. She would’ve taken anything.

You already told her what this was. What it wasn’t. She knew. And yet, Vi looked you in the eye just now, and told you she loved you. As if the words weren’t a bomb going off between you.

You clench your jaw so tight it hurts, staring at the floor, at the wall—anywhere but her.

“You—” you start, swallowing hard. “You shouldn’t have said that.”

Vi pauses.

“Why not?” she blurts out, stepping forward instinctively—and you step back just as fast.

Her face crumbles.

“Why not?” she says again, quieter this time, more desperate.

“Because,” you whisper, shaking your head. “Because it’s not—that’s not what this is.”

Vi looks at you, looks to the wall on her right, then looks at you again, eyebrows knitting together before she laughs, sharp and bitter.

“Do you really believe that?” she asks quietly. “Do you really think I can keep doing this—and–and not feel anything for you?”

Your heart lurches.

“Violet.”

“No, tell me,” she cuts you off. “Tell me you don’t feel anything when I’m here. Tell me you don’t think about me when I’m gone.”

You shake your head again, “I told you what this is, Vi.”

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t say anything at first.

“This isn’t what we’re doing,” you whisper, more to yourself than to her, “We’re not doing this.”

“I know, but—”

“No, you don’t,” you say, finally meeting her eyes, and Vi’s breath catches at the sight of the unshed tears threatening to spill over.

And it hurts. It hurts so much because you can still feel her everywhere—the heat of her hands on your skin, the rasp of her voice against your neck, her lips, her breath, her mouth, her skin…

“No, no, I think I do,” she shakes her head. “Do you think I came here every night for the sex? Is that what you think?”

Her breath hitches, and she stands there.

“I didn’t come here just to—just to fuck you. I came here because I miss you.” Her eyes lock on yours, searching, pleading.

“We said no commitment,” you murmur, barely above a whisper.

“Fuck that,” she says. She’s upset, more than upset, her face twisted in frustration, her breath quick and shaky as she watches you. “Fuck that.”

“Vi—”

“I don’t want that,” she cuts you off. She steps closer, her hands twitching like she wants to reach for you but doesn’t know if she should. “I never fucking wanted that. I just… I want you.”

She stops herself, breathing hard, trying to collect her thoughts, but they’re scattered, all over the place, too many emotions crashing together.

“I’ve spent the last three years thinking about you,” Vi admits. “Wondering if I’d ever see you again, if I’d ever be able to fix things, if I could get you back—”

Her breath hitches, her jaw tight as she stands in front of you, desperate and angry and so fucking tired of pretending like this isn’t tearing her apart.

Vi scoffs, shaking her head, frustration and pain battling in her eyes. Her hand moves up to run through her messy hair, tugging at the strands as if she could pull out the emotions knotting in her chest.

“And—And you’ve been pretending that you don’t feel anything for me, but I know you do.”

“God, you’re so full of yourself,” you snap, feeling the anger rising in your chest, fueled by her accusations, by the way she’s completely ignoring everything you’ve been trying to avoid, trying to hide from. “You always think you know everything, don’t you? You think you know what I feel—what’s in my head—but you don’t. You don’t know a damn thing.”

Vi opens her mouth to respond, but the words catch in her throat as she watches you, and you’re not sure if it’s the frustration or the hurt in her eyes that’s making it all harder. You can feel yourself shaking, the tears threatening to spill over. You don’t want to cry in front of her, but it’s too much. Everything is too much.

“I’ve spent so much time pretending it didn’t hurt,” you choke out, the words coming in gasps. “—that it didn’t matter when you’d leave again, or when you’d go silent for days, weeks, at a time. I kept telling myself that I didn’t care, that I didn’t miss you. That you didn’t matter anymore—”

Vi furrows her brows and halts for a moment, realizing you’re not talking about this anymore… you’re talking about back then.

The tears start to fall, blurring your vision, and you swipe angrily at them, wiping them away, but they keep coming, as if they were waiting for permission to break free.

“But it still hurts, Vi. It fucking hurts. Every single day. And you—you just keep showing up, and I didn’t know how to deal with it anymore.”

Vi stands there, her hand trembling slightly at her side as she steps forward, but you back away again, not ready for her touch. Her heart breaks. Her jaw tightens, her hands clenching at her sides as her chest heaves, like there’s a chance she’ll fall apart right in front of you.

“I know I fucked up,” she says, like she’s trying to shove the truth out of her mouth before she can stop herself. “I know that I’m the reason we’re even in this mess in the first place but—”

You flinch at her words, at how easily she’s admitting it all, like she’s been rehearsing this moment in her head, waiting for the right time to spill everything. But she doesn’t stop—she can’t stop.

“Don’t stand there and tell me you don’t feel anything for me,” Vi pleads, stepping closer, her voice breaking, the desperation cracking through her tough exterior. “Don’t act like this doesn’t mean anything. Don’t act like you don’t love me. We wouldn’t be doing any of this in the first place if you didn’t.”

Your heart twists painfully, and you shake your head, blinking back the sting of tears. “Vi—”

“No,” she interrupts. “I love you. I never stopped loving you. I still love you now.”

You look away, your breathing shaky. But Vi keeps going, her voice trembling now, as if she’s afraid of what will happen if she stops.

“I can’t pretend this doesn’t kill me every time I come here,” she says softly. “I tell myself I’m fine with whatever this is, that I’ll take whatever pieces of you you’re willing to give me—but I’m not. I’m not fine”

She takes a step closer, and you don’t move away this time. You’re frozen, caught between wanting to hold her and wanting to push her away again.

Vi’s voice cracks completely when she says, “I want you back.”

Your breath is shaky, a tear slipping down your cheek before you can stop it, but you don’t wipe it away.

“You don’t get to say that,” you whisper.

Vi’s shoulders slump, her eyes glistening as she watches you.

“You think this is easy for me?” Your voice rises. “You think I don’t want more? That I don’t think what it would be like if you had just—just tried harder? If you had picked up the damn phone, or come home, or given me one fucking reason to believe I was still important to you?”

Vi’s mouth opens, but you shake your head, blinking through the burn behind your eyes.

“I waited for you,” you say, your voice breaking on the word. “I already fucking tried, Violet. And when I finally saw you, you just kept pretending that we were okay—th-that our problems were just gonna magically disappear if you just stopped to fit me in your schedule for a couple of days—and now you think you can just waltz back into my life and tell me you love me like that’s enough?”

Vi’s breathing is ragged now, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy, but she doesn’t look away. She takes it—every word, every painful, bitter syllable—because she knows she deserves it.

“You don’t get to do that,” you whisper, your voice barely audible now, cracking under the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. “You don’t get to tell me that you love me when it’s convenient for you.”

You watch as her jaw clenches, her hands shaking at her sides. “That’s not why I—”

“No, Vi,” you snap.

“I’m not trying to—”

You laugh, but it’s hollow, as the tears roll down your face. “You think because we’re sleeping together, that it means you get to tell me you love me and I’m just supposed to—what? Fall back into your arms?”

She takes a shaky step forward. “That’s not what I’m saying—”

“Then, what are you saying?” you cut her off again, your chest heaving. “Because all I’m hearing is you trying to make yourself feel better.”

Vi flinches, her lips parting—but you’re already speaking again, the words pouring out faster than you can stop them.

“You didn’t fight for me then, so why the hell are you fighting for me now?” Your voice cracks, every word slicing through the air, right into her chest. “Why is it only when I let you fuck me that you suddenly remember how much you love me?”

Her face drops, “Baby, that’s not—”

“I’m not some backup option for when you get lonely, Violet. I’m not a fucking consolation prize.”

Vi stops.It feels like everything she thought she could build with you—everything she’d hoped for, everything she believed could happen—shatters instantly.

A tear slips down her cheek, her hand instinctively reaching up to wipe it away.

“You really think that?” she whispers, all too quietly.

It hurts so much. All these years, Vi had told herself that she would never be the one to hurt you again, that if you ever gave her another chance, she would do everything differently.

But now, standing in front of you, she realizes the damage she’s done. She can’t take back it all back. She can’t erase the time she let slip through her fingers when she should have been fighting for you.

“I never meant to make you feel that way,” she chokes out.

Her breath hitches, and she’s suddenly too aware of the space between you both. She wants to reach for you, to beg for your forgiveness, to pull you close and beg you to understand. But she doesn’t. Instead, she stands there, rooted to the spot, her heart in her throat.

Vi swallows hard, trying to keep the words from tumbling out, but she’s not sure what she’s even asking for anymore.

You watch her as she lets out a heavy breath, the sound shaky, her hands running through her hair in frustration. She tries to stop the tears that threaten to spill, but they still come, sliding down her cheeks as she scratches the back of her neck in an attempt to distract herself. Her eyes flicker between you and the floor, too afraid to look directly at your face for too long. She starts paces in short, restless steps, her mind racing with things she should’ve said—things she should’ve done differently.

You stand still, frozen in place, tears still streaming down your face as you watch her. It feels like an eternity passes.

And soon, you glance down at her neck. Your eyes catch the glint of her necklace, dangling just slightly under the hem of her hoodie.

Vi stops pacing when she sees you, her steps faltering as she realizes what you’re seeing.

But she only looks away.

“I should go,” sbe says too quietly.

Her voice trembles as she glances at you for just a moment, as if she’s waiting for you to stop her.

But she already knows. She already knows you won’t.

Vi steps back, her body tense, her eyes tracing every inch of you like she’s committing you to memory.

“Vi…” you sigh, watching her walk away towards your apartment door.

Her chest rises with a shaky breath, and she reaches for the handle, fingers brushing against it. She hesitates, just for a second, because she wants to look at you. Because maybe… she’s won’t get another chance to.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

She doesn’t wait for you to say anything else. Without looking back, she pulls the door open and steps out into the hallway.

It’s only when the door clicks shut behind her that you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

And when you look over towards the door, you see a glint of silver on the floor.

Vi’s lighter.

Stupid.

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[jiminomenon]

money talks

pairing: jang wonyoung x female reader

tag(s): ceo! wonyoung, sugar mommy! wonyoung, sugar baby! reader, power dynamics, wonielle makes an appearance

word count: 4.4k

summary: y/n sneaks into an exclusive gala, where she unexpectedly saves wonyoung, a powerful ceo, from a heated confrontation. this chance encounter leads to a life-changing sugar baby arrangement that pulls y/n into a world of luxury and complexity. as their relationship deepens, the lines between business and emotion blur, with wonyoung’s charm and generosity making it harder for y/n to see their arrangement as purely transactional, and both women find themselves drawn to each other in ways they never expected.

a/n: there’s 200 of you now which is insane 🤯 i’m honestly quite overwhelmed bc where on earth did you guys come from? 🤨 i didn’t even have time to write smth for my 100 followers special so take sugar mommy! wonyoung as a treat. lowkey kinda gave up in the end tho but hope you guys enjoy lmfao, happy reading 🎀✨

the grand ballroom of the city’s most exclusive hotel sparkled under the glow of crystal chandeliers. the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the sound of clinking champagne glasses. the room was filled with the city’s elite—celebrities, business moguls, and socialites mingling effortlessly, their laughter echoing off the marble floors. it was the kind of event y/n could only dream of attending, and yet, here she was, standing awkwardly in the corner, clutching a glass of champagne she didn’t dare drink.

“this was a terrible idea,” y/n muttered under her breath, glancing around nervously. her friends, hanni and yunjin, had convinced her to sneak into the gala, promising it would be a night to remember. they’d borrowed dresses from a thrift store, done their makeup in the back of an uber, and somehow managed to slip past security by blending in with a group of influencers. but now, as y/n scanned the crowd, she realized she’d lost sight of her friends entirely.

“great,” she sighed, setting her untouched champagne on a passing waiter’s tray. “just great.”

she wandered through the crowd, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. the opulence of the event was overwhelming—gold-trimmed tables, towering floral arrangements, and waiters circulating with trays of caviar and truffles. y/n felt like a fraud, her thrift store dress suddenly feeling cheap and out of place. she was about to turn around and head for the exit when a commotion caught her attention.

near the edge of the room, partially hidden by a towering potted plant, stood a woman y/n recognized immediately. it was jang wonyoung, the ceo of starship industries and one of the most powerful women in the city. she was dressed in a sleek, tailored suit, her sharp features illuminated by the soft glow of the chandeliers. but what caught y/n’s attention was the tension in the air. wonyoung was speaking to a younger man, her expression cold and unreadable.

“you’re boring,” wonyoung said, her voice low but cutting. “i don’t have time for boring.”

the man’s face twisted in anger, his hands clenching into fists. “you think you can just toss me aside like that? after everything i’ve done for you?”

wonyoung raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “done for me? please. you’ve done nothing but drain my bank account and waste my time.”

the man’s anger boiled over, and he lunged at her, grabbing her arm roughly. y/n’s heart leapt into her throat. without thinking, she rushed forward, grabbing the man’s shoulder and pulling him away.

“hey!” y/n snapped, her voice shaking but firm. “let her go!”

the man turned to glare at her, his grip on wonyoung loosening. “who the hell are you?”

“someone who doesn’t think it’s okay to put your hands on someone else,” y/n shot back, stepping between him and wonyoung. her heart was pounding, but she stood her ground, her fists clenched at her sides.

the man hesitated, his eyes darting between y/n and wonyoung. for a moment, it looked like he might argue, but then he scoffed, releasing wonyoung’s arm with a rough shove. “whatever. she’s not worth it anyway.”

the man stormed off, leaving y/n and wonyoung alone. y/n turned to wonyoung, her breath coming in short gasps. “are you okay?”

wonyoung studied her with an unreadable expression, her sharp eyes scanning y/n’s face. “i’m fine,” she said finally, her voice calm and measured. “but you… you’re not supposed to be here, are you?”

y/n’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “i—uh—”

before she could stammer out an explanation, a security guard appeared, his walkie-talkie crackling as he spoke into it. “we found her,” he said, his voice gruff and authoritative. he turned to y/n, his expression stern. “you’re coming with me.”

y/n’s stomach dropped. this was it. she was going to be thrown out, humiliated in front of everyone. the guard grabbed her arm, his grip firm and unyielding. “let’s go.”

“wait—” y/n started, but the guard cut her off.

“no excuses. you’re trespassing, and you’re coming with me.”

y/n’s heart raced as the guard began to drag her away, the eyes of the crowd starting to turn toward the commotion. she felt a wave of panic wash over her, her mind scrambling for a way out. but before the guard could take more than a few steps, a voice cut through the noise like a blade.

“let her go.”

the guard froze, turning to see wonyoung standing there, her arms crossed and her expression icy. “m-ms. jang, this woman is trespassing. i’m just doing my job.”

“and your job,” wonyoung said, her voice low and dangerous, “is to listen to me when i tell you to let her go.”

the guard hesitated, his grip on y/n loosening slightly. “with all due respect, ms. jang, she’s not on the guest list. i have to remove her.”

wonyoung stepped closer, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. she tilted her head, a sly smile playing on her lips. “are you really going to argue with me about this? in front of all these people?” the guard glanced around, noticing the curious stares of the guests. he shifted uncomfortably, his confidence wavering. “i… i’m just following protocol.”

“protocol?” wonyoung repeated, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “let me make this simple for you. she’s with me. she’s my plus one. and if you don’t let her go right now, i’ll make sure you’re looking for a new job tomorrow. understood?”

the guard’s face paled, and he immediately released y/n’s arm, stepping back. “of course, ms. jang. my apologies.”

wonyoung’s smile widened, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “good. now, if you’ll excuse us.”

the guard nodded quickly, muttering another apology before retreating into the crowd. y/n stared at wonyoung, her mind reeling. “why did you do that?”

wonyoung turned to her, her expression softening. “because you just saved me from a very unpleasant situation. consider it a thank you.”

y/n blinked, still trying to process what had just happened. “i… you’re welcome?”

wonyoung chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down y/n’s spine. “you’re interesting. most people wouldn’t have stepped in like that.”

“i couldn’t just stand there and do nothing,” y/n said, her voice firm despite the nervous flutter in her chest.

wonyoung tilted her head, studying y/n with a curious expression. “what’s your name?”

“y/n.”

“y/n,” wonyoung repeated, as if testing the sound of it. she stepped closer, her gaze intense. “tell me, y/n… how would you like to be my new sugar baby?”

y/n’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open in shock. “i—what?”

wonyoung’s smirk widened, her confidence unwavering. “you heard me. i’m in need of someone… interesting. and you’ve just proven yourself to be exactly that.” she reached out, brushing a strand of hair from y/n’s face, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through y/n’s body. “so, what do you say?”

y/n’s mind raced, her heart pounding in her chest. this was insane. completely, utterly insane. but as she looked into wonyoung’s sharp, calculating eyes, she realized she didn’t have it in her to say no.

“okay,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “i’ll do it.”

wonyoung’s smile was triumphant, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “good. you won’t regret it.”

the morning after the gala, y/n woke up in a daze, her mind still reeling from the whirlwind of events. wonyoung had given her a ride home in her sleek black car, the interior smelling of leather and expensive perfume. before dropping her off, wonyoung had handed her a business card with an address and a time scribbled on the back.

“be here at 8 pm sharp,” wonyoung had said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “don’t be late.”

now, as y/n stood in front of the towering skyscraper that housed wonyoung’s penthouse, she felt a mix of nerves and excitement. she smoothed down the front of her dress—a simple black number she’d borrowed from mina—and took a deep breath before stepping into the lobby.

the doorman greeted her with a polite nod. “miss y/n? ms. jang is expecting you. take the private elevator to the top floor.”

y/n nodded, her heart pounding as she stepped into the elevator. the ride up was smooth and silent, the glass walls offering a breathtaking view of the city lights. when the doors slid open, she was greeted by the sight of wonyoung’s penthouse—a sprawling, minimalist space filled with floor-to-ceiling windows, modern art, and sleek furniture.

wonyoung stood by the window, a glass of wine in her hand. she turned as y/n stepped out of the elevator, a small smile playing on her lips. “you’re right on time. i like that.”

“i didn’t want to keep you waiting,” y/n said, her voice slightly shaky.

wonyoung gestured for her to come closer. “relax. you’re not here for an interview. well, not exactly.”

y/n walked over, her eyes darting around the room. “this place is… incredible.”

“it’s home,” wonyoung said with a shrug, as if it were nothing. she handed y/n a glass of wine, their fingers brushing briefly. “sit. we have some things to discuss.”

y/n sat down on the plush white sofa, her hands clutching the glass tightly. wonyoung took a seat across from her, crossing her legs elegantly. she reached for a sleek black folder on the coffee table and slid it toward y/n.

“this,” wonyoung said, “is your contract.”

y/n’s eyes widened. “contract?”

“of course,” wonyoung said, her tone matter-of-fact. “this is a business arrangement, after all. i need to make sure we’re both on the same page.”

y/n opened the folder, her eyes scanning the neatly typed pages. the terms were lavish—generous monthly allowance, a luxury apartment, access to wonyoung’s world—but there were also rules. y/n would be expected to accompany wonyoung to events, be available when needed, and maintain a certain level of discretion.

“this is… a lot,” y/n said, her voice barely above a whisper.

wonyoung leaned forward, her gaze intense. “it’s a fair deal. you get financial security, and i get… companionship. someone interesting. someone who isn’t afraid to stand up for me.”

y/n looked up, meeting wonyoung’s eyes. “and if i say no?”

wonyoung smirked. “you won’t.”

y/n hesitated, her mind racing. this was insane. completely, utterly insane. but as she looked around the penthouse, at the life wonyoung was offering her, she realized she didn’t have it in her to say no.

“okay,” she said finally, her voice steady. “i’ll do it.”

wonyoung’s smile was triumphant. “good. i knew you’d see it my way.” she reached for a pen and handed it to y/n. “sign here.”

y/n took the pen, her hand trembling slightly as she signed her name. when she was done, wonyoung took the contract and set it aside, her expression softening.

“now that that’s out of the way,” wonyoung said, standing up, “let’s celebrate. i have reservations at a place i think you’ll like.”

y/n blinked. “right now?”

“why not?” wonyoung said, her tone playful. “consider it your first official outing as my sugar baby.”

the restaurant was everything y/n had imagined and more—a Michelin-starred establishment with dim lighting, soft music, and a menu filled with dishes she couldn’t pronounce. wonyoung ordered for both of them, her confidence effortless as she chatted with the waiter.

“you’re not allergic to anything, are you?” wonyoung asked, glancing at y/n.

“no,” y/n said, shaking her head. “but i’ve never been to a place like this before.”

wonyoung smirked. “get used to it. this is your life now.”

the food arrived, each course more exquisite than the last. y/n tried to keep up with wonyoung’s easy conversation, but she couldn’t help feeling out of place. wonyoung noticed, her sharp eyes catching every nervous fidget.

“relax,” wonyoung said, reaching across the table to touch y/n’s hand. “you’re doing fine.”

y/n’s breath hitched at the contact, her cheeks flushing. “it’s just… a lot to take in.”

wonyoung’s smile was soft, almost tender. “i know. but you’ll get used to it. and i’ll be here to guide you.”

the rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter, wine, and stolen glances. by the time they left the restaurant, y/n felt a little more at ease, though the weight of her new reality still lingered.

as they stepped into the cool night air, wonyoung turned to y/n, her expression unreadable. “you did well tonight.”

“thanks,” y/n said, her voice barely above a whisper. “i’m glad i didn’t embarrass you.”

wonyoung chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down y/n’s spine. “you could never embarrass me. in fact, i think you might just be exactly what i’ve been looking for.”

y/n’s heart skipped a beat, her mind racing with possibilities. as wonyoung’s driver pulled up to the curb, y/n realized that her life was about to change in ways she couldn’t even imagine.

the weeks that followed the signing of the contract were a whirlwind of luxury and excess. y/n moved into a sleek, modern apartment in one of the city’s most exclusive neighborhoods, courtesy of wonyoung. the space was everything she could have dreamed of—floor-to-ceiling windows, a marble kitchen, and a walk-in closet filled with designer clothes. it was a far cry from her cramped, cluttered apartment, and yet, y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong.

wonyoung had been true to her word, taking y/n to high-profile events and introducing her to a world she’d only ever seen in magazines. there were galas, charity auctions, and private parties, each more extravagant than the last. y/n learned to navigate the social scene with a practiced smile, her hand always resting lightly on wonyoung’s arm. she was the perfect accessory—beautiful, poised, and just interesting enough to keep wonyoung entertained.

but beneath the surface, y/n was struggling. the pressure to maintain the image wonyoung expected was exhausting. she spent hours practicing her posture, memorizing the names of influential people, and perfecting the art of small talk. she felt like an imposter, constantly waiting for someone to expose her as a fraud.

one evening, wonyoung took y/n to an art gallery opening, the kind of event where the champagne flowed freely and the art was secondary to the socializing. y/n wore a stunning emerald green dress that wonyoung had picked out for her, the fabric clinging to her curves in all the right places. she felt beautiful, but the weight of wonyoung’s expectations was heavy on her shoulders.

“remember,” wonyoung had said as they stepped out of the car, “smile, but don’t overdo it. you’re here to impress, not to blend in.”

y/n nodded, her stomach churning with nerves. she followed wonyoung into the gallery, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. the room was filled with the city’s elite, their laughter and chatter creating a low hum of energy. wonyoung moved through the crowd with ease, her presence commanding attention wherever she went.

“ms. jang!” a man in a tailored suit greeted them, his smile wide and practiced. “it’s been too long. and who is this lovely creature?”

“this is y/n,” wonyoung said, her tone casual but her eyes sharp. “my… companion.”

the man’s eyebrows rose, his gaze flickering between wonyoung and y/n. “charmed,” he said, taking y/n’s hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “any companion of ms. jang’s is a friend of mine.”

y/n forced a smile, her cheeks burning. she hated the way people looked at her, like she was a shiny new toy wonyoung had acquired. but she kept her composure, nodding politely as the man launched into a monologue about the art on display.

as the night wore on, y/n found herself growing more comfortable. she even managed to hold her own in a conversation with a well-known art critic, surprising herself with how much she knew about the pieces on display. wonyoung watched her from across the room, a small smile playing on her lips.

“you did well tonight,” wonyoung said later, as they stepped into the car. “i’m impressed.”

y/n’s heart swelled with pride, but she quickly pushed the feeling down. “thanks. i’m just trying to keep up.”

wonyoung chuckled, the sound low and warm. “you’re doing more than keeping up. you’re thriving.”

a few days later, wonyoung took y/n to a charity gala at a luxury hotel. the event was even more extravagant than the gallery opening, with crystal chandeliers, live music, and a guest list that included some of the most powerful people in the city. y/n wore a sleek black gown, her hair styled in loose waves that cascaded down her back. she felt like a princess, but the illusion was shattered the moment she met her.

“well, well,” a voice purred from behind y/n. “if it isn’t the new girl.”

y/n turned to see a woman standing there, her golden dress hugging her figure like a second skin. she was stunning, with soft features but a confidence that made y/n feel instantly inferior. the woman’s long, dark hair framed her face perfectly, and her gentle eyes sparkled with an unreadable intensity. she smiled—a smile that felt effortless, almost intimidating in its beauty.

“i’m sorry,” y/n said, forcing a polite smile. “do i know you?”

the woman laughed, the sound cold and mocking. “oh, honey, you don’t need to know me. i know *you*. you’re wonyoung’s latest little project, aren’t you?”

y/n’s smile faltered, her stomach twisting into knots. “i… i don’t know what you mean.”

“don’t play dumb,” the woman said, stepping closer. “i was in your shoes once. wonyoung’s sugar baby, the center of her world… until she got bored and tossed me aside. and trust me, she *will* get bored. it’s only a matter of time.”

y/n’s heart raced, her mind reeling. she wanted to argue, to defend wonyoung, but the woman’s words struck a nerve. before she could respond, wonyoung appeared at her side, her expression icy.

“danielle,” wonyoung said, her voice sharp. “i see you’ve met y/n.”

the woman—danielle—smirked, her eyes glinting with malice. “i was just welcoming her to the club. you know, giving her a heads-up about how this little arrangement of yours usually ends.”

wonyoung’s jaw tightened, her hand resting possessively on y/n’s waist. “y/n is different. and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of her way.”

danielle laughed, but there was no humor in it. “we’ll see how long that lasts.” with that, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd.

y/n felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her. she turned to wonyoung, her voice trembling. “is that true? will you just… get bored of me?”

wonyoung’s expression softened, her hand moving to cup y/n’s cheek. “don’t listen to her. she’s bitter and jealous. you’re not like her. you’re… different.”

y/n wanted to believe her, but the doubt had already taken root. as the night went on, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was just another replaceable part of wonyoung’s world.

months had passed since y/n signed the contract, and her life had become a carefully curated blend of luxury and performance. she attended events with wonyoung, played the part of the perfect companion, and tried to ignore the growing sense of emptiness inside her. the apartment, the clothes, the attention—it was everything she’d ever wanted, and yet, it felt like she was living someone else’s life.

the turning point came on a rainy evening, after a particularly draining charity gala. y/n had spent the night smiling and nodding, her cheeks aching from the effort. wonyoung had been her usual composed self, commanding the room with ease, but y/n had noticed the way her eyes lingered on danielle, who had been there with a new sugar mommy. the sight had stirred something ugly in y/n’s chest—a mix of jealousy, insecurity, and resentment.

now, back at wonyoung’s penthouse, y/n stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the city lights. the rain streaked down the glass, distorting the view, and she felt like she was looking at her own reflection—blurred, fragmented, and unrecognizable.

“you’ve been quiet tonight,” wonyoung said, her voice cutting through the silence. she stood a few feet away, a glass of wine in her hand. “is something wrong?”

y/n turned to face her, her arms crossed over her chest. “do you ever get tired of this?”

wonyoung raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. “tired of what?”

“this,” y/n said, gesturing vaguely at the room. “the parties, the pretending, the… the performance. don’t you ever feel like it’s all just… empty?”

wonyoung’s lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “it’s part of the life we’ve chosen. you knew that when you signed the contract.”

“did i?” y/n shot back, her voice rising. “because i don’t think i really understood what i was getting into. i didn’t realize i’d have to give up everything—my friends, my independence, my sense of self—just to be your perfect little accessory.”

wonyoung’s smile faded, her expression hardening. “you’re not an accessory, y/n. you’re my companion. my partner. i’ve given you everything you could ever want.”

“except the truth,” y/n said, her voice trembling. “except the freedom to be myself. i feel like i’m losing who i am, wonyoung. and i don’t know if it’s worth it anymore.”

there was a long silence, the weight of y/n’s words hanging heavy in the air. wonyoung set her glass down on the coffee table, her movements deliberate. when she finally spoke, her voice was low and measured.

“what are you saying, y/n?”

y/n took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “i’m saying… i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep pretending to be someone i’m not. i need to figure out who i am outside of this… this arrangement.”

wonyoung’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something—anger? hurt?—crossing her face. “so that’s it? you’re just going to walk away?”

“i don’t know,” y/n admitted, her voice breaking. “but i can’t keep living like this. i need… i need to find myself again.”

wonyoung stared at her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. then, to y/n’s surprise, she let out a soft, bitter laugh. “you think i don’t know what that feels like? to lose yourself?”

y/n blinked, caught off guard. “what do you mean?”

wonyoung turned away, her gaze fixed on the city lights outside. “do you think i’ve always been like this? respected, controlled, untouchable? i wasn’t always this person, y/n. i had to become her. i had to build this… this fortress around myself to survive in this world. and sometimes, even now, i feel like i’m drowning.”

y/n’s anger faltered, replaced by a pang of sympathy. “wonyoung…”

“i didn’t expect you,” wonyoung continued, her voice softer now. “i didn’t expect to feel… anything. but you… you’re different. you’re not like the others. you’re not afraid to challenge me, to push back. and for the first time in a long time, i felt like maybe… maybe i didn’t have to be alone.”

y/n’s breath caught in her throat, her heart aching at the vulnerability in wonyoung’s voice. “wonyoung…”

wonyoung turned to face her, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i don’t want to lose you, y/n. but i also don’t want to trap you. if you need to leave… if you need to find yourself… i won’t stop you. but i want you to know that what i feel for you… it’s real. it’s not part of the arrangement. it’s just… you.”

y/n felt tears welling up in her own eyes, the weight of wonyoung’s confession settling over her like a warm blanket. “i don’t know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” wonyoung said, her voice barely above a whisper. “just… think about it. and whatever you decide, i’ll respect it.”

y/n swallowed hard, staring at wonyoung—the woman who had, against all odds, become so much more than just a contract. she had been so sure that leaving was the only way to find herself again, but now, looking at wonyoung’s raw honesty, she wasn’t so sure anymore. maybe she had been looking at this all wrong.

maybe she wasn’t losing herself—maybe she had just been too scared to admit that she had already found something worth holding onto.

a shaky breath escaped her lips. “i don’t want to leave.”

wonyoung’s eyes widened slightly, the first crack in her composed mask. “you don’t?”

y/n shook her head, stepping closer. “no. i just… i don’t want this to be fake. i don’t want to be with you because of a contract. i want to be with you because it’s real.”

wonyoung exhaled, almost like she had been holding her breath, before a small, hopeful smile tugged at her lips. “then let’s make it real.”

y/n’s heart pounded. “what do you mean?”

wonyoung reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. “no more contract. no more pretending. just you and me, figuring it out… together.”

y/n stared at her, searching for any hesitation, but all she saw was sincerity. warmth spread through her chest, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe. she squeezed wonyoung’s hand, a slow smile forming on her lips.

“together,” she agreed.

wonyoung let out a soft laugh, her eyes shimmering. “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to hear that.

y/n chuckled, pulling her closer. “well, you’re going to have to wait a little longer… because i’m going to kiss you first.”

wonyoung’s breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. “then what are you waiting for?”

y/n didn’t need to be told twice. she closed the distance between them, capturing wonyoung’s lips in a kiss that was slow, deep, and full of everything they had been too afraid to say.

this time, there were no contracts, no expectations—just them.

[jellyscats]

john sucking bob’s dick! while reader makes out with bob and talks him through it, leaves hickies on his neck, plays with his nipples etc etc. i’m obsessed with their dynamic. if you don’t write poly feel free to delete :)

18+ MDNI

i’m all here for poly do not fret! especially poly!sentryagent <3 i do apologise this isn’t the best,it was kinda rushed!

John had gone down on a few guys in his time,I mean growing up in the south it wasn’t something he advertised but of course,like many other guys in his town,he experimented. most of the time it was with his friends after a raging party had died down,couples retiring to empty bedrooms and drunk college kids stumbling into ubers,when there was that thick palatable feeling of lust in the air that nobody in his friend group could deny. it was always casual,just friends helping friends out, something that was never really talked about when the hangovers cleared up but this,this could never be casual.

from the moment he sank down in between Bobs legs he knew there was no going back,the way every moan and whimper from the man twitching underneath him sent his own chest puffing up with what? pride? he didn’t know,all he knew was that he was addicted. addicted to the way the smaller man gulped every time John took him all the way into his mouth,that burning stretch settling into the corners of his lips as he tried to accommodate all of Bobs length,how his own cock sat heavy and untouched in his boxers leaking precum onto the flimsy material. it was enough to send his head spinning on its own,the heaviness of Bobs cock on his tongue,the mixture of spit and precum pooling onto the base of Bobs dick,sticking to the mound of hair that grew there,but you,oh you,took it to the next level,voice steady and calm whispering sweet nothings to Bob as he fell apart. John could see how your words were affecting Bob, each little pet name falling from your lips,each “you’re doing sooo good for us baby” sending him bucking into the warmth of Johns mouth and sending a pool of drool down the super soldiers bearded chin. the way you laid there,fully clothed,perched beside Bob like both the devil and angel on his shoulder, wandering hands dancing across his chest,a sight to behold and it sent John on a mission. he took it upon himself to start kneading Bobs milky thighs,something he’d seen you do countless times,something that always had Bob chirping out like a caged bird,singing out those cute drawn out “oh-oh-oohhh’’s you adored so much.

Bob had always been vocal in the bedroom but this was something else,every time you and John teamed up to torment the poor guy it was like something in him broke,like he didn’t care if the whole world heard the guttural sounds you were both tearing from him. he had given up control,laid there,head thrashing from side to side,eyes squeezed shut and hands grasping the bedsheets as John sucked on his balls and your mouth delicately pulled hickies to the forefront of the soft skin of his shoulders. it was like he was in the twilight zone,how could his body feel this good,how could time have any meaning when your fingers are pulling at his sensitive nipples like this,how could he literally feel the love radiate of you when you whisper that “let go for me baby” that he didn’t even know he was waiting to hear.

[beefy-arms000]

hiccup and tuffnut are best friends…right? aha rhetorical question bruh ofc they are.

hiccup and tuffnut are an amazing duo in httyd. they’re both crazy and intelligent, but it’s like in their own way. hiccup would go to tuff if astrid wasn’t there, tuff would go to hiccup if ruff wasn’t there. It’s that simple.

I just feel like they have more of an interesting dynamic with each other more than they do with snotlout or fishlegs. I’ve been seeing a couple edits on tiktok (there should be more) that really show a different side of their friendship. In the series, we mostly see hiccup yelling at him for doing something stupid with his sister, but it’s kinda hard to see the side that actually shows where they feel comfortable and act like brothers/best friends.

I just feel like they have more of an interesting dynamic with each other more than they do with snotlout or fishlegs. I’ve been seeing a couple edits on tiktok (there should be more) that really show a different side of their friendship. In the series, we mostly see hiccup yelling at him for doing something stupid with his sister, but it’s kinda hard to see the side that actually shows where they feel comfortable and act like brothers/best friends.

It was that one episode where the twins cousin, gruffnut, came back in town and was causing trouble idk. I don’t really remember but somehow hiccup thought tuff was gruffnut and said “I think I know one of my best friends when I see him.” from this moment on, we now know hiccup refers to tuff as his BEST FRIEND. not just a teammate, dragon rider, or a friend, but a BEST FRIEND!!!

even though WE can see their unique bond behind the 4th wall, It seems like tuffnut is truly shocked by what hiccup thinks of him, or in this case, refers to him as. the impression of each other is a bit unrequited, which explains why tuff thought hiccup didn’t think of him like that. if tuffnut would’ve had been more attentive to him and hiccup interacting, (disregarding the scolding and lectures), then he could’ve been a lot more closer to hiccup sooner than he expected to be.

huh, in httyd 3, it seems like they’ve become more closer. or at least one of them has and the other just deals with it. in the third movie, tuffnut looks like he’s embraced in upping his friendship with hiccup. for example, he gets WAY more touchy and is all up in his personal space than what we’ve seen in rtte.

people finna pull the “he just acted that way to bring up marriage between him and astrid.” or “he was only a comedic relief to the film.”

The writers definitely chose tuffnut not to only be his “best man” but chose him to be hiccups literal mentor throughout the movie (alongside gobber obvi)

not snotlout. not fishlegs. not even eret. why tuffnut out of all of them?

since hiccup is most likely the talker in his relationship with astrid, he switches roles and gets to be the listener with tuffnut.

they’re like a quiet and loud duo. they bring out the best of each other. no wonder why hiccup picked him to be the uncle for his children, duh.

Don’t get me wrong, they both have wonderful bonds with the other dragon riders, idk it’s just something about hiccup and tuff being defined bffs gets me.

basically if they both had to have a go-to best friend aside from ruffnut and astrid, or belch and toothless, they wouldn’t hesitate to say each other.

i mean guys, come on, if hiccup let tuff call him ‘hiccy,’ then you know they’re bros.

[vsa-pieldepapel]

ralsusie became real and kinda popular in the fandom and i IMMEDIATELY thought of you. also your susie hadcanons... you're predicting it all....

so what are your thoughts on their dynamic in the new chapter? and on susie's character development overall?

oh it's a fucking party in my house rn you have no idea. i have so many things to say about them that i don't believe its possible to make all of them coherent in a single post but i'll vomit some of it Before that tho i must say i am surprised at how many people thought of me w these new developmetns lol. mostly because the internet is so fast paced i thought no one would remember. thank you though.

i remember saying somewhere that I was convinced ralsei observing susie's independence and force of will would plant a seed in his head for him to strive for freedom and agency, and I'm surprised how dead on that was. Guts is widely accepted to be the stat for how much a character is willing to stand against the control of the player, which ralsei has Zero of in all chapters, but fascinatingly, even though he goes back to zero in ch4, at the tail end of ch3 before i fought the roaring knight i checked the power screen and ralsei had a single Guts point. this was immediately after susie consoled Tenna and told him, "did you hear that, Ralsei?" so i am convinced that single moment of guts was brought forth by her, by the lessons he learns from her character.

I had rather low expectations going into the new chapters because I really still wasnt convinced if Toby was self aware on how he was writing the holiday family, susie and noelle, and ralsusie, or if that was all serendipitous. The new chapters make me believe more strongly that he is aware and its not all coincidental. theres a lot here and i would have to make an entire separate post about it but I was incredibly pleasantly surprised by how many poignant, emotionally resonant moments happened between susie and ralsei building on how much they push each other to be better, and how it's emphasised that they're influencing the other. I was incredibly shocked in a good way that they had an actual argument, but Susie didn't resort to all the coping mechanisms we see her use with Lancer. Ralsei has proven now that he will be there by her side and she has decided to believe in that rather than keeping in mind that she could be abandoned at any turn, and I thought them being able to genuinely talk it out and MAKE it through an argument was an excellent indicator of how powerful their relationship is (and I do mean this all even if it's just friendship stuff for now, because the healthiest couples, anyway, are those where your partner is also your friend). I remember being skeptical way back when of people who made susie sporty and confident, because she struck me as feeling ugly, insecure, and not really that successful in that regard either, and I'm glad I was right. Her monologues about feeling unwanted and broken which feels very much the result of unstable circumstances like moving constantly, where there is no consistency to any one situation, and neglectful or abusive parenting were very resonant. Curiously though my fave part of all these new developments about susie are when it pertains to how she connects to the lore of the prophecy, which is another separate post. Basically, I love how susie is a "wild card", but that necessitates a LOT of elaboration. I like that her stubbornness and her will to fight are displayed for both when they're good and worth it and when they're dysfunctional. I also found the exploration of how an individuals psyche shapes a dark world fascinating.

The bloody handprint lives fucking rent free in my head. Again, I need to make a MASSIVE post to connect a lot of dots here idk how to do it. But I am very, very excited. Maybe it would be easier to organise everything if I was prompted to talk about specific things. I could make a pepe silvia style video about it atp rofl

[greengoblinswifey]

Shattered— Nicholas Chavez x Actress!Reader

summary— you’re an actress on the brink of fame and you fall for your co-star Nicholas Chavez. discovering his secret coupled with your unexpected pregnancy changes your entire dynamic.

warnings— cheating, mentions of infertility, mature language, grief and loss, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of unprotected sex, abortion, manipulation.

a/n— kinda long but i’m a slut for angst, also this is all just my imagination and fantasy, it’s not based on nicholas irl <3

Alternative Ending

From the very first time you got an acting role, your manager told you, never engage in relations with your co stars. Looking down at the two positive pregnancy tests on the counter, you wished you had taken heed to her wise words.

You and Nicholas had been thrown into the spotlight together, both relatively new to the fame game. As co-stars, you’d developed a chemistry that felt electric, especially during your lovey-dovey scenes on camera.

As the filming progressed, those on-screen moments started to seep into your off-screen life. You’d find yourselves stealing kisses between takes, getting lost in long conversations about everything from your childhood dreams to your favorite late-night snacks. It was easy to forget that this was just work. You felt like you knew each other inside out.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you were in your trailer, and the laughter just flowed. “I really like this,” Nicholas said, leaning closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “It feels special, you know?”

You nodded, heart racing. “Yeah, it does. I’m just scared of what happens after this season wraps. Will we still have this?”

Nick brushed a thumb across your cheek, his gaze intense. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise I’ll always be here.”

You couldn’t help it; you leaned in and kissed him, the connection between you two crackling like electricity. Everything felt perfect in that moment, but in the back of your mind, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

What were you missing? Why did he keep his life back home so close to his chest?

As your days turned into nights filled with mind blowing sex, you tried to enjoy every second, but the nagging doubt wouldn’t disappear. You were falling for him, and you wondered if he felt the same way, or if this was just a fun distraction for him.

As filming continued, he made sure to keep the relationship casual, reassuring you that it was all good between you two. “You know I care about you, right?” he’d say between takes, pulling you close, his lips pressing against your forehead, “But a public relationship? It might restrict me from getting certain roles.” You nodded, wanting to be supportive. After all, you understood the pressure of the industry. But deep down, a nagging thought lingered, was there more to it than that?

Still, you brushed off your doubts. You were wrapped up in the excitement of your new life, enjoying every moment of intimacy with Nicholas, nights spent tangled in sheets, whispering sweet nothings, and experiencing a side of Hollywood that felt like a dream. There were moments when he’d use condoms, and others when he’d pull out, but you never worried about getting pregnant. You knew you were infertile, and that fact brought you a strange sense of comfort.

During one of your casual conversations, you mentioned your part-time passion for photography. Nick lit up at the idea, and you quickly arranged for him to meet a photographer friend of yours who worked for magazines. “I’ll be sure to use them,” he said, his tone light. You didn’t think much of it, just a favor for a friend.

Then came the twist, Nick’s character was off the show for a few episodes. He returned to his hometown, and suddenly, the set felt empty without him. You missed him deeply, especially because you’d been feeling under the weather lately. The sickness hung over you, but you knew he needed a break so you didn’t bother him in staying.

As the days went by, his texts became infrequent. You found yourself wondering if something was wrong. Maybe he was just busy? Maybe he was having fun back home? And then, you noticed your period was late. You weren’t scared per se, you remembered the infertility diagnosis, but something felt off.

In a moment of playful distraction, you called your sister. “I’m late,” you joked, half-laughing. “Maybe I should take a pregnancy test?” She encouraged you, laughter spilling over the phone, making it feel lighthearted.

You picked up two tests from the store, ensuring they weren’t expired. When you took the tests, you expected nothing. But to your shock, both tests came back positive.

The laughter faded, replaced by disbelief. You dropped the phone, feeling a wave of panic crash over you. Pregnant? How could this happen? You were still so new in your career, and Nicholas. How would you even tell him? Would he be happy? He had dreams to chase, and now there was a little life to consider.

Your mind raced with possibilities and worries. You knew you needed to talk to Nicholas but the fear of how he’d react was large. You’d built something beautiful, but this was a twist neither of you had planned.

The days dragged on as you tried to process everything. You took a few days to cool off, completely unsure how to proceed. The set was chaotic, your mind was racing while you were trying to act normal. Multiple takes of one scene felt like torture, especially when you had to run off to throw up in between. The directors were patient, but you could sense their frustration growing. You felt guilty, this pregnancy wasn’t their fault, and yet you were struggling to keep it together.

Just two days before Nicholas was set to return, the chaos hit a new level. You received a message from the photographer you had linked Nicholas with. “Check out how cute your co-star looks with his girlfriend!” it read, accompanied by a series of images. You froze as you opened the photos. There he was, Nicholas, beaming in a pregnancy announcement photoshoot with a woman. A woman who was his girlfriend.

Shock coursed through you as confusion and anger collided. Your heart sank, it felt like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t taken any photos with Nicholas, and now you realized why he had been so secretive about his life outside of filming. He was expecting a baby with her. You wanted to scream, shout, break things, or blow up his phone. But instead, you just sat there, staring blankly at the screen, tears streaming down your face.

You ran to the trailer bathroom, clutching your stomach as nausea washed over you. You felt it to your core, the reality of your situation was devastating. He had been playing you both, living a lie, and now here you were, grappling with the knowledge that your pregnancy was based on deception.

Days passed like a blur. You did your best to get through filming, but every time you returned to your trailer, the reality of the life growing inside you became unbearable. You would throw up and clutch your stomach, feeling the weight of what was supposed to be a beautiful moment turned sour by lies.

Finally, the day arrived when Nicholas returned to set. He burst into your trailer, the energy in the room instantly shifting. “I missed you!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you and planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. But you just sat there, staring blankly at him, the pregnancy tests in hand, proof of the life you were now burdened with.

He pulled back, looking at you with concern. “What’s wrong?”

The words caught in your throat. You were ready to confront him, ready to expose the web of lies. But all you could manage was a shaky breath, your heart racing in your chest as you prepared for the storm ahead.

With shaky hands, you thrust the pregnancy tests into Nicholas’s face, your heart pounding. “Here.”

He looked at the tests, confusion swirling in his eyes. “W-what? What the fuck is this. Is this… are you pregnant?” The realization hit him hard, and you could see the panic creeping in.

“Yeah, I am!” you shot back, your voice rising.

“Fucking hell!” he shouted, “my- my fucking career is just taking off, I’m filming a show, this- this wasn’t supposed to get this far.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” You couldn’t believe the things he was saying. “My career is just taking off, I’m filming a show too Nicholas.”

His expression shifted, the initial panic giving way to something more defensive. “I can’t handle this right now! My career is just starting, and I didn’t want to be tied down like this.”

Anger bubbled up inside you, boiling over like a volcano. You could sense the manipulation in his tone, the way he was shifting the blame onto you. “It’s always about you, isn’t it?” you yelled, pushing him away. “You’re just thinking about yourself!”

He reached for you, attempting to pull you back into his embrace, whispering, “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out.” But you shoved him off, your emotions raw and unfiltered.

“Figure this out?” you screamed, your voice echoing in the small trailer. “How can you say that when you’re two-timing? Look at these!” You threw your phone at him, the pregnancy announcement photos landing in his lap. His face twisted with fury.

“Are you serious right now?” he shouted, his anger igniting. “I made a mistake with one of them! It wasn’t supposed to go this far! We’re filming a show together; I can’t just drop everything!”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You’re not the Nicholas I thought I knew. How can you act like this? You’re a fucking two-faced liar, sleeping with two girls and getting both of us pregnant!”

He raked a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and despair. “I can’t do this. Not now. You need to- you need to get an abortion.”

The words hung heavy in the air, crashing down around you. You looked at him, heart sinking, disbelief coursing through you. “Are you serious? You want me to end this?”

Nicholas looked away, the weight of his own choices crashing down on him. But it was too late, the damage had been done.

Nicholas’s voice was cold and detached. “Yes, I want you to get an abortion. I’ll give you money for it. You need to have it gone by tonight.”

You felt your heart shatter all over again. “How can you refer to our baby as ‘it’?” The bitterness in your voice was undeniable.

He shrugged, pacing the small trailer. “I don’t know what an abortion can do to your body, but you’ll need time to rest. What are you going to tell production?”

You shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t know either! But how can you be so heartless?”

“Listen I can’t deal with this, I have a girlfriend and a baby on the way,” he muttered, lowly.

You couldn't take it anymore. “No! I am your girlfriend! WE have a baby on the way, or at least I thought I was your girlfriend!”

Nicholas stopped pacing, his expression a mixture of guilt and confusion. He ran a hand over his face, clearly overwhelmed.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” he muttered, unsure of what to say next.

Then, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him, he turned and left the trailer without another word, leaving you alone in the silence.

You hugged yourself tightly, tears streaming down your cheeks. The reality of your situation crashed down on you. You felt utterly lost, your heart aching for the life you once envisioned, now shattered.

That night, you lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, your mind spiraling as you weighed your options. If you kept the baby, everything would change. Your career, just beginning to gain traction, would be stalled indefinitely. You’d be a single mother, left alone to care for a child Nicholas had already written off. And as a man, he’d be fine. Even with two babies on the way, he wouldn’t be the one carrying or caring for them.

On the other hand, if you didn’t keep it, you weren’t even sure if you’d get another chance. The thought tore at you, but you knew what the world would say. They’d call you a homewrecker, maybe even try to destroy your reputation, and all without knowing the truth. It would be you, bearing the weight of his lies.

Finally, with a heavy heart, you booked the appointment for the next morning. You went alone, tears streaming down your face as you went through it, feeling each moment echo in the hollow of your chest. By the time filming started later that day, you were late, your spirit shattered.

Nicholas spotted you as soon as you walked onto set. He approached, his voice low, but his eyes sharp. “Is it done?”

You nodded, feeling a hollow ache that reached all the way down to your bones. You could barely look at him, but when you did, all you felt was disgust. He added, as if it was some minor detail, “Don’t even think of reaching out to my girlfriend.” You couldn’t believe how cold he’d become, as if you were nothing more than a piece of his past.

Then the call for your scene echoed across the set, and you took your place opposite him. It was a romantic moment, a kiss, meant to be tender and full of passion. But when his lips touched yours, it felt like everything was wrong. The kiss was forced, awkward, each movement filled with a desperation neither of you could hide.

When the director called, “Cut,” you pulled away and fled, barely making it to your trailer before the tears began to flow. Just hours ago, you were carrying his child. Now, all that remained was an empty ache and a broken heart. In some twisted way, you felt almost relieved that you no longer had a part of him inside you. And yet, the loss left you feeling like a shell of who you once were.

A few days after the procedure, you felt like you had nothing left of him. Nothing to show for the life you’d once carried, the part of him that had been yours alone. He had been such a huge part of your life just days before, and in mere hours, that illusion had shattered completely.

The filming continued, and soon the news of his pregnancy announcement with his girlfriend went public. You watched as the set was buzzing with congratulatory wishes for him. Everyone beamed at Nicholas, showering him with smiles and words of celebration. Meanwhile, you did your best to hold yourself together, concealing the sadness that now rested in the hollow of your heart.

When the season finally wrapped, the months that followed became a time of rebuilding. You put everything into healing, into rediscovering yourself. By the premiere night, you were the picture of poise and confidence, draped in a red dress that turned heads. When you stepped onto the red carpet, even Nicholas did a double take, momentarily caught off guard by your transformation.

After the red carpet, he approached, offering a hollow smile. “So, how are you feeling? I just need to know, it’s really done, right?” He hesitated, glancing around, and added, “I heard sometimes fetuses survive abortion…”

The audacity of his words made you sick. Anger sparked in you, and you hissed, barely holding back your rage. “Yes, Nicholas. Our baby is dead. Thanks to you.” You were barely a few weeks along so you wouldn’t have considered it a baby but you wanted to say anything to knock him down.

As the night continued, you managed to keep your composure, even when his pregnant girlfriend approached you with a sweet smile, chatting as if you hadn’t unknowingly been fucking her boyfriend raw. All the while, Nicholas hovered nearby, his eyes sharp, ensuring you didn’t let anything slip. You walked away feeling relief. He’d no longer have a hold on you.

The following months brought a fresh start. You threw yourself into work, your career skyrocketing as you landed a massive film role. Meanwhile, Nicholas seemed to fade from the spotlight, mostly at home with his girlfriend, waiting for their baby. Until, finally, karma came for him, an article revealed that the child he thought was his was actually someone else’s, belonging to a rockstar his girlfriend had left him for.

You couldn’t help the satisfaction that spread through you. He’d reaped exactly what he’d sown, and you hadn’t lifted a finger.

The Oscar nomination was the pinnacle of your success, and the night of the awards ceremony arrived. To your surprise, Nicholas showed up, desperate to find you. He cornered you at last, offering a string of apologies and congratulations, asking for another chance now that he was alone. But you saw through him, his desire was only to latch onto your newfound fame. You looked him in the eyes, remembering everything he’d put you through. He had destroyed you, once. But you had risen again, and he was nothing to you now.

Without a word, you turned and walked away, leaving him to watch as you went forward, leaving him in the past for good.

[sl003]

SESE's Fic Recs Part 2 (ATEEZ)

Hi and hello! Today, i present to you the second part of my fic recs because i spend waaaay too much time reading stuff on here when i should be working on my own stories, hahah :) I just have so many ideas that it's hard to stick with one, you know?

Anyway, it's the same as before, the fics will be sorted by members, my all time favourites are marked with a "♡". And as this one is a bit shorter than the previous one, you can be sure that this one will be updated from time to time.

You can find the first part here:

SESE's Fic Rec (ATEEZ)

And as you can probably notice by these fic recs, i'm a sucker for long ass fics, i just love them so much! (no hate to shorter fics, they're just as good!!!)

Warning: Some of the fics will have a bit of "commentary" from me below them, these might contain spoilers for the fics, just so you've been warned.

Once again, a giant thank you to all the incredibly skilled and talented authors out there for creating these masterpieces!!! <3 You deserve all the love for doing what you do and allowing us to read and take part in that!

And because I have a habit for reading and recommending a lot of fics from the same authors, i'll just tag them once in this even if there's more than one fic. hope that's okay :)

Anyway, have fun reading!!!

PS: if any of the links are wrong or don't work, feel free to tell me so i can try and fix it.

KIM HONGJOONG

Philoselene - @ncteez (6.2k)

alt!stoner!hj x kinda!detached(?)!reader

♡ It Can't Be That Hard - @seung-hwa (12k)

brother's best friend!hj x reader / college au / exes to lovers

i'm a sucker for the "brother's best friend" trope, so it was already quite clear that i was going to love this. and well, i was right with my suspicion. the dynamic between all the characters is just so *chef's kiss*. i kinda felt bad for yunho, though... that guy has been sneaking his way into my heart lately, so no surprise there... (i mean the thing with the knitted hat? so damn cute!)

Cry For Me - @yeostinys (3 parts)

ceo!hj x secretary!r

this is normally not a plot that i read very often, but this was so incredibly good, oh wow. reader is really a bit of a crybaby, but like in a so not annoying way, you know? i loved it, read it.

♡ I'll Let The World Burn - @koyagifs (3.4k)

dragon rider!hj x dragon!r

this was such an interesting read because reader is a dragon in this one. but i love how their close bond was portrayed and it was so sad... i was this close to crying, i'm telling you. but i loved every second of it.

PARK SEONGHWA

Where Water Turns To Flame - @sungbeam (6.1k)

dragon!sh x dragon!r

♡ Playing With Fire - @ateezmakemeweep (5 parts)

(kinda)sugar daddy!sh x daughter's bff!r

hoooly shit. this was a rollercoaster. a real good rollercoaster. the relationship between the reader and seonghwa is so sweet and hot at the same time. (tbh, during the time eunbi and mrs. park were mad pissed at reader, i was kinda on their side, because if i was in their shoes, i'd be as well, but like i get the reader too, cause it's hwa) and i also love the dynamic between reader and eunbi, especially after the whole shitshow that went down, when eunbi is chill with reader and seonghwa's relationship, it's so hilarious.

JEONG YUNHO

Love Again - @xomakara (6.1k)

single!dad!y x single!mom!r

Guerrilla - @sorryimananti-romantic (27k)

doctor/serial killer!yh x crime author!r

♡ You Can Run But You Can't Hide - @bvidzsoo (25.8k)

vampire hunter!yh x vampire!r

i've been a little vampire fanatic since i was a child, so i really like vampire tropes. and i've especially come to like the vampire x vampire hunter pairing (probably cause of my love for enemies to lovers). the tension between them is crazy and i love it. the detail that did it for me though is the one with feeling pleasure from the biting and drinking from each other. i remember that i've read something with that a very long time ago, and it stuck with me since then. so finally seeing this in a fic again was sooo cool, it's just so intimate. and the small cameos (if you can call it that) of mingi and seonghwa? so tragic, yet so sweet.

Summer's Dive - @santheestallion (30k)

brother's bff!yh x reader

i've actually only read the first part to this, somehow i haven't gotten to read the other two (i think it's two other parts?). until now i totally loved it, and i'm sure the other parts are just as good, i'll have to read them as soon as possble!

KANG YEOSANG

♡ Don't Lean On Me - @sweetinsaniiity (27k)

tsundere!outcast!ys x semi-stalker!r

i'm writing this one day after i read it for the first (and the second) time (11.01.25) and holy shit. in my previous fic rec i've stated that "entropy" (also a ys fic) is my all time fav fic, well this one just tied with it, if it has not even surpassed it (no hate to entropy, it will always have a special place in my heart), cause this is incredible. i love these type of fics and the way yeosang was portrayed here made me feel some type of way (in the best way possible). the small details and gestures from him, oh my god. seriously, if you're as yeosang biased as i am, you definitely need to read this. or just read it anyway, i'll force you if i have to <3

A World In Your Colours - @ bvidzsoo

daycare teacher!ys x florist!r (soulmate au)

CHOI SAN

Stay Focused - @beginningofwonderland (12.5k)

office worker!san x uni student!r

SONG MINGI

My Way - @ sorryimananti-romantic (18k)

guard!mg x princess!r

Orange Soda - @atozfic (13.4k)

single!dad!mg x reader / fwb to lovers

By Her Side - @arilevenatz (8.5k)

bodyguard!mg x princess!r (modern royalty)

i've never read anything like this before. obviously the bodyguard x princess trope is pretty common (and i eat it up every time) but not in the way this was made (with the age gap and all). when i read the summary, i was a bit unsure but i knew i just had to read it, and i was not disappointed. their relationship is so sweet and this fic? AMAZING. and as i'm writing this i'm realizing that i've literally just recommended two mingi fics with this trope, well what can i say? bodyguard!mingi is just *chefs kiss*

♡ Love Me Like A Rockstar - @ bvidzsoo (15 chapters)

uni student/local rockstar!mg x uni student!r

oh dear, i can't even begin to describe. as you can probably tell here, mingi has been on my mind a lot. and this series, wow. i've read this in one evening, i was so invested. tbh, reader was unnecessarily rude to mingi a lot, but like i get it because of her past (though letting it out on mingi wasn't really cool of her, i mean, it wasn't his fault). but seriously, this story is so amazing. from the detail of her suddenly starting to draw mingi instead of yunho to how mingi just suddenly starts being nice to her even if she's still behaving like a jerk. and just when their friendship (love their texting, by the way) starts to progress, reader goes and pulls that shit? i was hooked. and i also was totally on seulgi's side for a second when she called just to shit on reader hahah. anyway, such an amazing and sweet story!!! <3

JUNG WOOYOUNG

coming soon ... (i need to read more about him again, this is my sign)

CHOI JONGHO

♡ (Not) Another Love Song - @yourlocaljonghoe (11.5k)

uni student!jh x uni student!r (roommates to lovers)

her basically only being able to sleep when she listens to jongho's covers on youtube? so cute. and how socially awkward she is? it felt so relatable, because honestly? i'm the same way. normally, i enjoy reading fics with a more confident reader (something that i'm not, but i like to pretend) but it also feels so amazing to read something with a socially awkward reader like here. and the way he covers the song she was talking about to him just like a day earlier?? now that, folks, is love.

POLY/MULTIPLE

♡ Compass Of The Heart - @velvetvisionsaurora (ongoing series)

pirate au // hj x r / sh x r / mg x r / yh x r / wy x r

oh my god. this story is so precious to me you don't understand. the scenes from when they were children? i could have cried. and the way each of the boys has a nickname for her is so cute. and i'm such a sucker for her relationship to mingi. i love the way he is written as like the guy that doesn't talk much and the deep connection between them is so sweet. and generally the way everyone treats her, i love it. i get so excited everytime a new chapter of this gets posted.

Hope you enjoyed these, because i certainly did!!

'Til then, bye bye <3

-Sese

[ariestrxsh]

brattamer!matt x brat!reader

🥀 content warning: smut, humiliation, degradation, sneaking around, use of sex toy, edging, ruined orgasm, enemies to lovers

🥀 summary: after staying the night in a heated sexual encounter with your arch nemesis, matt, the two of you now have to keep up the charade in front of his brothers.

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

Hatef--k

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

[ back to Hatef--k masterlist ] ↖

The rest of the night was calm. Matt helped me move my laundry along, gave me back my clothes, and apologized for being a dick. "Hey, I'm sorry about hiding your towel and shit. That was kinda the meanest thing I've ever done to you," Matt smiled, probably recalling what it led to. It was actually the first time Matt had ever apologized to me for anything.

"Don't be sorry. I liked it. And if you're sorry, that's kind of a turn off," I looked up at him with a twinkle in my eye and a devilish grin plastered on my face, still riding a high from the incredibly passionate sex we'd just had.

"But you seemed legit mad," he looked at me, confused. "Well, I was mad. And I liked it. Both things are true. That's part of the game, isn't it?" I rhetorically asked. Matt smirked at me.

He knew exactly what I was talking about. It was just the first time either of us had really acknowledged the dynamic for what it was. If Matt and I really didn't like each other, we'd feel indifferent in the other's presence. But the only difference between disliking someone and hating them is passion.

Matt still did little things to frustrate me and tease me the rest of the night, like constantly moving my phone in random places, or tapping me on one shoulder but standing behind me on the opposite side. I'd roll my eyes at him and slug him in the arm, but there was something about the banter that was more playful than before.

"Did you wanna sleep with me in my bed tonight?" Matt asked, avoiding eye contact and fidgeting with his rings. "Why the fuck would I wanna do that?" I asked, but I was smiling.

"Because you're a little whore, and you might want something to rub up against while you're dreaming about how I just fucked you," Matt teased me, tickling my side. "Only if you keep your hands to yourself, perv," I joked back.

I fell asleep next to Matt in his bed that night. We did try to keep our hands to ourselves, but there were a few times in our slumber where I felt him poking me in my backside with his cock, and I did find myself mindlessly rubbing up against his hip bone like a dog in heat.

Finally, around 9 a.m. the next day, I woke up to the sunshine pouring into Matt's room, and I rolled over to greet him. He looked like he had also just woken up, and his eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the brightness.

"You know, I was joking when I told you I thought you were gonna rub up against me in your sleep, but you actually did it. Fucking whore," Matt teased me in his morning voice and let out a mean chuckle. "Yeah, and when I told you to keep your hands to yourself, I meant your hard on, too, perv," I rolled my eyes at him and smiled, intoxicated by the sleepiness that lingered in his words.

We heard a few noises downstairs, indicating someone had just walked in the door. Matt and I looked at each other wide-eyed, and I immediately jumped out of his bed, grabbing anything that was mine or anything that indicated I might have slept in there and booked it to Nick's room.

I frantically threw the blankets and pillows about on the bed to make it look slept in, splashed some cold water on my face in the bathroom, and stepped out to see Nick ascending the stairs in a white t-shirt, jeans, a leather jacket, and sunglasses. He always looked like a movie star. "Oh, hey. Good to see you awake. And alive," Nick laughed, stopping in the hallway. "Yeah, good to see you too," I lied.

I was definitely hoping to get another round with Matt in before either brother got home.

"Is Matt up yet?" Nick asked, motioning towards Matt's closed bedroom door. "Hmm. I don't know. Haven't seen him since last night," I lied again. Nick glided across the carpet and made his way to his room. "Jesus, was the bed comfortable? It looks like a tornado hit in here while you were sleeping," Nick joked, looking at the sheets in complete dissaray. "No, your bed was great!" I lied once more.

I had no idea if his bed was comfortable or not, considering the first time I'd stepped into his room was two minutes prior.

"I slept fine. I guess I just toss and turn a lot," I nervously laughed. Matt abruptly opened his door, startling me. My face grew hot, and my breath grew shallow. I could hear my heart thumping quickly in my chest, afraid Nick would pick up on the sudden energy shift between Matt and me.

"Hey Nick," Matt said, rubbing his eyes. "Good to see you guys didn't kill each other while we were gone," Nick said. "She tried, actually. Good thing I'm a light sleeper," Matt joked. "Move out of the way, freak. You're blocking the bathroom," Matt said, pushing past me. "Make sure you spend extra time in there. You look like shit," I responded rudely.

"Was he mean to you?" Nick asked after Matt closed the door behind him. "Not anymore than usual," I nonchalantly said. I don't know, Nick, do you consider your brother throwing me up against the wall and choking me and calling me a slut while he fucked me, mean? Because I don't know how to answer any of your questions right now.

Nick was one of those people I never lied to, but in just the past five minutes, I'd fabricated all my answers. I didn't like the act of lying, but I got excited at the idea of having a secret that nobody knew about besides Matt and me.

My phone, placed strategically on Nick's nightstand, started buzzing. It was a call from the company who was working on my water issue. "Hello?" I picked up the phone. "Hey, miss. Your water is back on, and it's all good to go. Sorry for the inconvenience," the man said over the phone. "Oh, no problem. Thanks for the update," I responded, staring Nick in the eyes, and I hung up.

"Damn," I fake sighed. "They said it's gonna be at least another day until I have running water in my apartment." Why stop lying now? "Don't worry about it. Why don't you just stay here another night?" Nick suggested, which was exactly what I was hoping he'd say. "We'll just have Matt drive you over to your apartment and get anything you need," he told me. I like the way you think, Nick.

"Oh, yeah. Matt will love that," I said, rolling my eyes but also smiling because I loved pissing him off. "What will I love?" Matt asked, walking out of the bathroom and past Nick's room. "Hey Matt, my water's still out, and Nick here, just offered to have you drive me over to my place real quick, so I can pick up some things I'll need to stay here another night. You don't have a problem with that, do you?" I taunted him, batting my eyelashes and smiling.

"I'd rather shoot myself in the foot, but I'll do it for my wonderful brother here who loves to help people by volunteering me to help them," Matt slapped Nick on the back and gave him a look. "Let's go, brat," Matt rolled his eyes and motioned for me to come towards him. Matt pushed the front door closed on me as I trailed behind him out to the yard. "Fuck you, Matt," I muttered.

Once we were outside and Nick couldn't hear us, Matt turned around, held me by my neck, and said, "What the fuck did you just say to me?" I loved the feeling of his fist tightening around my throat while he spoke to me through gritted teeth. "I said, fuck you, Matt," I repeated. "I'm gonna make you pay for that one later," he smirked, loosening his grip and getting into the car. Jesus, way to make me instantly wet, Matt.

I hopped into the passenger seat, Matt connected his phone and started playing some music, but as soon as he pulled out of the driveway, I disconnected his phone and started connecting my own. "What the fuck!?" Matt yelled, pushing my hands away from the display monitor.

"Hey, both hands on the wheel," I smiled, tickling his side and causing him to swerve. "You're gonna make me crash," Matt barked at me. "You're gonna make yourself crash. You focus on driving. We're listening to TV Girl," I said, putting on 'Cigarettes out the Window.'

"Whatever. At least it's not as annoying as some of the shit you listen to," he rolled his eyes. We pulled up to my apartment. "Wait here. I'll be just a few minutes," I told him. I didn't need much, just a pair of lounging clothes, since all the laundry over at the Sturniolos' was either gymware or my work clothes, so I picked out a tank top and shorts to sleep in. And my vibrator. God, I needed my vibrator. I knew it would be risky, but in case I didn't get to fool around with Matt that night if everyone was home, at least the vibrator was a less risky route.

As soon as I went to reach for it off the top shelf in my closet, I felt a presence come up behind me, and I immediately whipped around. "Jesus, Matt. You scared the fuck out of me," I said embarrassed as I tried to hide my vibrator behind my back. "What do we have here?" Matt said walking up to me as if he were going to hug me, but he reached around my waist and grabbed my vibrator from behind me. "Is this what you use when you think about me?" Matt teased me, examining it.

"Shut the fuck up, Matt," I rolled my eyes at him. "You know, the funniest thing happened when I walked in," Matt whispered. I looked at him inquisitively, unsure of what he was going to say next. "I turned on your faucet, and your water is just fine," Matt replied.

"I know. They called me this morning. I lied to Nick," I admitted, looking away from him. "Why'd you lie?" Matt asked, raising his eyebrows, thinking he already knew the answer. "Oh, you know, trying to save a few bucks on my water bill this month," I giggled and bit my lip.

"Bullshit. I think you were gonna prance around my house, wearing this little white tank top with no bra and these little shorts," Matt said, pointing at my clothes on the bed, "and I think you were gonna tease me all fucking night, and I'm sure you were gonna plan for me to catch you using this on yourself, huh?" He held my vibrator in front of my face. "Anything for me to fuck you silly again, huh? Are you that desperate for my cock?" Matt replied in a condescending tone. God, he was turning me on.

"Stand fucking still, you cheap little whore," Matt ordered me while he pulled down my bottoms, including my underwear. He stood behind me, his hot breath hitting the side of my neck. With one hand, he held my arms behind my back, restraining my wrists and with the other, he turned on my vibrator. Having been stripped down to nothing but my t-shirt and having Matt hindering any movement of my arms while he studied my favorite sex toy brought me to a whole new level of humiliation, and I couldn't get enough of it.

He rested my buzzing toy on my cunt, and I immediately felt my knees grow weak. He leaned in and whispered, "You're such a naughty girl. Lying to Nick. Telling me to go fuck myself. Running around my house being a little tease." I looked up at him lingering over my shoulder and let out a few soft whimpers. "You like making me angry, don't you? You love being punished when you misbehave, huh?" He cooed, and I bit my lip and nodded. "What would Nick say, knowing you lied to him so you could have another chance to get dicked down by me, huh? What do you think he'd think of you, hmm?" He teased me.

I felt the vibrations torturing my clit, reverberating throughout my being, and inching me closer to the edge with every word Matt gruffly whispered in my ear. My moans became more fervent and more desperate. "Please, Matt. I'm so close," I softly responded.

"Well, isn't that a damn shame?" He said, letting go of my wrists and turning off my vibrator, ruining my orgasm. "Put your clothes back on, whore. We should get back before Nick wonders what's taking so long," Matt smirked at me and handed me back my toy.

part four posted here 🥀

[demdems]

Blowing myself up and everyone else in the room

If i let myself add anymore panels from this weeks chapter I'm just gonna upload the whole thing im literally gonna melt into nothing oh my god i need to read the new mafia if chapter oh my god

Was typing but realized I'm going too much, more brain blast under cut

what if you Loved someones, what if the love in ur heart was enough to know that it transcends the need to always be together, what if you love ur favorite people enough to know you can watch them from afar knowing you'll eventually come back together

what if you realised that you can still love urself and the good you can have w urself and the good u have when with others

separation makes the heart grow fonder!! what if you love enough to know the time apart is still a gift!!

This arc is insane and it's like, so vital to clara's character + love trio development + mairuma's themes overall

I am being turned into concrete holy oh my god [also this is now my analysis sorry if I'm speaking straight nonsense]

Clara's always like, been the foundation of the love trio, at the very least she's to be credited for establishing how the trio defines themselves to each other [to outsiders theyre defined by one member [iruma] since they're called the iruma army, very cute but I'm making distinctions between how that and the love trio name does different for them]

The title iruma's army hinges on clara and azz's devotion to iruma as seen thru the outside perspective and it also makes them kinda, like a love angle, as its how they are connected to iruma but not each other specifically

Love trio is clara's way to define how each of them in the trio are interconnected thru their love for each other [the phrase love trio also focuses on them as a trio, putting them on a more even dynamic with each other]

Side tangent sorry I'm sitting here writing this post almost immediately after reading the chapter, i think love trio encompasses some the fundamentals of demonhood [greed, power, control] as reflected in their evil cycles, my third eye is open, irumas evil cycle was greed [and his character growth is him learning and tapping into these demonic indulgences that're frowned upon in human society] as he wanted more for the misfits which can be seen as greedy as it's asking for more than the class is allowed, azz's is power as training lets him enter his evil cycle to have more unchecked power in combat, clara's is control as her worries and insecurities drove her to store away iruma and azz to keep them with her under her care forever

I digress tho i haven't even gotten into like 30% of my illness about the love trio

This arc really dove into clara's character as, shes been kinda been kept in the dark when it comes to, what she actually may be thinking, like id argue it's intentional that clara hasn't been really given free range to be entirely herself in a way that doesn't outwardly make others uncomfortable

Clara was so, unabashedly herself, but the story didn't punish her for that, it's just that through azz And iruma [even if he very much threw water on a grease fire omg], she learns that she Can feel these things both good and awful, and that one, theyll love her anyways [good point that iruma made, horrible time to express it] but two, that it doesn't mean she should bury these worries within herself and instead of this domineering control over the ones she cares about when expressing her most primal fears, the bad stuff needs to get recognized first and that she needs to let others in to express that

or yk in easy terms, iruma's way was "I'll love you even with the bad" and azz's way was "this is all the bad but I'll love you", basically an inverse approach in how they talked down clara [if im making sense who knows]

I hope that we do get to see iruma and azz make good on indulging clara's wishes to go like, swamp lol, weird girl central, after exams in the extras or [indulging the kinda greed youll see in the bible] in an entire chapter I'm not asking for much,,,

Im getting distracted but the start and end chapters for this arc have the same name, Coming full circle, the arc starts w clara's concern about staying behind in make up classes and not spending end of term w iruma and azz and it ends w her being reassured that pass or fail in make up classes or end of term fun, they still together and love each other and it'll be fine no matter what

Also this is the first time iruma and azz have been shown to be visibly attached to clara as the center, seen in the first few pages [what comes to mind is the times azzclara stuck to irumas sides and the few times i think iruclara did the same to azz], just wanna mention bc they're so cute I'm disintegrating into nothing

The chapter also ending w the little tease of clara's hair sticking up in the same way as in her evil cycle state, my illness

I think this represents a few things but largely what i think is important to herself + the love trio, i think it's representative of how she will keep some of how she was in her evil cycle just more tempered, base/non evil cycle clara is already in touch w love for iruma and azz it was just put on the extreme, i think going forward she'll now just, be more in touch w the different like, aspects of her insecurities, like expressing the bad thoughts she stores away to iruma and azz, but also bc i do think that the love trio are kinda representing fundamentals of demonhood, ill be bold and say she's gonna be even More confident w her love for iruma and azz [expressing control thru more establishment of the love trio in the story, i think]

also i am just, the way nishi-sensei continously draws these intimate moments between the love trio in this shoujo romance manga kinda style, especially when the panel/page feels like it's framed to be from the view point of one of the three, like that's just something that can be so special

Minor thing, among many things I've thrown in here i literally have the chapter open in a different tab so i can reference it during writing, i think clara kinda snapping at iruma and azz for being overbearing in the first pages is like, one of the few times i recall her actually, doing anything of the sort? might be wrong tho but i like this visible development to their dynamic

yea so I'm pretty normal about this chapter,,, <<<guy who folds quick when it comes to love trio content

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

how do you think the boys yearn/deal with a crush? I’m trying to envision a dynamic between a hunter reader and the two brushing off their feelings

Oh I LOVE this question with all my heart! Thank you, anon, for sending it in! ❤️

It's kind of a shame we never got to see either of them really with crushes. Out of all the romantic scenarios the show didn't have (which is fine, not complaining at all, we wouldn't have that much amazing fan fic if it did, is my theory) them yearning/pining is the thing I would have loved to see the most.

Dean just becomes a puppy dog, I think. He's all smiley and giggly around her. Hangs on every word she says. That woman can do no wrong. Extra points if she's a bit of a trouble maker, and Dean gives her a pass on everything, which reeeeally weirds out Sam, cause he wouldn't get away with half the stuff you do!

It's only when she puts herself in real danger that Dean's super protective side comes out. He can't contain the worry, gets grumpy. He's angry at whoever hurt her, and they'll get what's coming to them, but his fear for her safety translates into a bad mood. No assurances from her side that she's fine are gonna calm him down, either - it takes hours for him to get out of that state, and at some point, when all her wounds are taken care of, he'll probably isolate himself, stew a bit. Love's great and all, but it's exhausting. He doesn't know how to make her his, and he doesn't know how to be around her when that's all he wants to do. Maybe at some point he'll try to take a step back, keep some distance. But at the first sweet smile or inside joke, he's right back where he was before.

Sam's kinda similar, except that he makes sure to keep his distance the moment he realizes there's something going on. He's seen the show too - well, he lived it - and he knows he's no good in that regard. Plus he's got better self-control than Dean. Still, he can't help being drawn in my the little things: you sharing your excitement about something you read, you getting a little cocky and playfully flirty once you've had a drink. When he reaches for something for you and passes it down, and you look up at him with that look that tells him you know he enjoyed that. But it can never be. Sam knows that.

He gets jealous as hell, but doesn't allow himself to express it. He doesn't have any right to you, he knows that. Doesn't matter how much he imagines things could be different, how much he wishes they were. He lies awake at night, one arm tucked behind his head, deep frown on his face while that big brain goes over the problem he's trying to solve again and again. There is no solution. He rolls onto his side and tries to sleep, but only dreams of you.

And I know you didn't ask for this specifically, but if they're both down bad for you? Oh man. They can read each other, know each other so well, so they immediately know what is going on . There's no way either of them is going to get in the way of his brother getting what he wants, getting something good - and you are the best there is. They'll both try to keep their distance, failing, of course, miserably. Cause how can they stay away when you make them feel so alive so good? Something's gotta give, but whether it's an unplanned kiss after surviving a life threatening situation, you taking the initiative or confronting them about acting like absolute weirdos - only time will tell.