#so this is...........a thing..........that i wasted time making...........

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

Xavier lies on the couch, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His hoodie is slightly rumpled, one arm dangling off the edge of the cushions.

You approach quietly, drawn by an irresistible urge to feel his warmth. Without hesitation, you slide into the space beside him, immediately seeking the comfort only he can provide.

Xavier stirs, his eyes fluttering open briefly. For a moment, his expression shifts—the corners of his mouth lifting slightly—before his arms instinctively wrap around you.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, voice thick with slumber. “You’re here.”

You press closer, burying your face against the soft fabric of his hoodie, inhaling deeply. His scent envelops you completely—familiar and grounding.

“You’re so warm,” you whisper, feeling the day’s tensions begin to dissolve. “I could stay like this forever.”

Your bodies fit together perfectly, the rise and fall of his chest gradually syncing with your own breathing. The world outside fades away as you focus on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“I don’t mind if you do,” he replies quietly, his fingers finding their way to your hair.

His eyes close again, but that subtle smile remains—a sight that makes your heart flutter. Here, in the silence between you, words become unnecessary. When he adjusts his position, it’s only to draw you closer against him.

As consciousness begins to drift away, you tighten your hold slightly, unwilling to let go even in sleep. The last thing you register before falling asleep is Xavier pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his silent way of saying everything words could never quite capture, and his arms securing you against him—steady, reliable, exactly what you needed.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The sight of Zayne seated on the edge of the bed, still in his day clothes but with his collar unbuttoned, sends a wave of longing through you. Your body aches with the need to be held—specifically by him.

“I need fifteen more minutes,” he states without looking up, somehow sensing your presence. “Twenty, at most.”

You retreat to the bedroom, arranging yourself among the pillows, the wait almost unbearable. Every minute crawls by as you imagine the feeling of being gathered against his chest, surrounded by his warmth. The pull toward him is almost physical, a tightening sensation that only his touch can release.

True to his word, exactly fourteen minutes later, the soft pad of slippers against hardwood signals his approach. Relief floods through you at the sound.

He appears in the doorway, and you extend your arms instinctively, the need for his closeness overwhelming all other thoughts.

“You’re early,” you note with grateful surprise.

“Apparently, I can do my tasks faster when I know you’re waiting,” Zayne replies.

The mattress dips as he slides in beside you, and you waste no time pressing yourself against his chest, your arms wrapping around him with desperate need. His body is warm against yours, and you sigh with contentment as his scent surrounds you.

“I’ve been needing this all day,” you confess against his shirt, feeling the tension finally release as his arms encircle you.

Zayne shifts slightly, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers to study your face with the same intensity he gives his most complex cases. Whatever he finds makes him pull you closer, adjusting his position to maximize your comfort.

“Better now,” he murmurs, tightening his arms around you before you feel him press a kiss to your temple, lingering there for a moment.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

The urge builds throughout the day—a growing, insistent need to feel Rafayel’s arms around you. You find him by the window, humming softly as sunlight bathes his figure. The sight of him—so vibrant and alive—only intensifies your craving for his touch.

“Rafayel,” you call softly, arms already half-raised in anticipation.

The moment he sees you, understanding dawns immediately. He spins toward you with a flourish, meeting your unspoken need without hesitation.

“Perfect timing. I was just thinking of you,” he says as he closes the distance between you in quick strides.

You collide with him halfway, arms wrapping around his waist, face pressed against his chest. The contact sends immediate relief coursing through you—like cool water after a long thirst.

“You smell like the ocean and sunshine,” you mumble against the fabric of his shirt. “I couldn’t resist anymore.”

His arms encircle you completely, lifting you slightly as he backs toward the overstuffed couch in the corner, understanding your need without explanation.

“Then you shall have me,” he declares, falling backward onto the cushions and bringing you down with him in a tangle of limbs. “For as long as you need.”

You settle against him, fingers clutching at his shirt, drawing him closer still. He smells of turpentine and sea salt, of creativity and freedom. Your body relaxes completely for the first time all day, the desperate need that drove you to seek him out finally satisfied in his enthusiastic embrace.

You sigh contentedly, ear pressed against his chest to hear the steady rhythm of his heart. His fingers find their way to your hair, twirling strands around his fingers as your breathing synchronizes with his. Outside, seagulls call to each other, but neither of you makes any move to break the perfect connection.

“Stay just like this,” you whisper. “I don’t want to let go yet.”

His laugh bubbles up in response, the sound vibrating through his chest against your ear. “Then the rest can wait.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

The longing strikes without warning—an intense need to be held in Sylus’s arms. Nothing else will satisfy this particular craving; only him.

You make your way to his room, the journey giving you time to acknowledge how completely this need has consumed you. You find him standing by the window, the city sprawled below.

He turns at the sound of your footsteps, one eyebrow lifting slightly as he takes you in.

“Well,” he says, setting down a glass of wine, “this is a pleasant surprise.”

Words feel unnecessary as you approach him, arms already reaching for him, need written plainly across your face. You press yourself against him, inhaling his distinct scent, feeling your pulse steady at the contact.

“Don’t reschedule on my account,” you say, voice slightly muffled against his chest, though you make no move to pull away. “But I couldn’t wait another minute to see you.”

“Simply my company?” he murmurs against your hair, arms encircling you with practiced ease.

There’s something warm in his tone as he guides you to sit, arranging you both so you’re nestled against his chest, exactly as you’d been craving all day. His fingers trace idle patterns along your spine, releasing tension you hadn’t realized you were carrying.

“Tell me,” he says, tilting your chin up, eyes searching yours. “What brought on this sudden need for closeness? Not that I’m complaining.”

The city lights reflect in his eyes, catching on the edges of his features as he studies you with uncharacteristic patience.

You shake your head slightly, unable to articulate the bone-deep longing that drew you here. Words seem inadequate to explain how completely his embrace satisfies something essential within you.

“Just wanted to be close to you,” you answer simply, settling back against him, feeling the rightness of being exactly where you belong.

“Hmm… I wonder what you might demand next.” Yet his arms tighten around you. Outside, the city continues its evening pulse, but here, in this moment, his attention is focused solely on you, as though nothing beyond this room matters.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

Caleb tosses his uniform jacket over a chair, his face lighting up the moment he spots you lingering by the bedroom door. In an instant, his professional demeanor melts away completely.

“Caleb,” his name escapes your lips, arms already outstretched.

“There you are,” he says, voice warm with affection as he closes the distance between you in long, eager strides. “Best sight in the entire galaxy.”

His arms are around you before you can respond, lifting you slightly as he spins once, the movement playful despite the strength evident in his embrace. When he sets you down, he doesn’t let go, instead dropping his forehead to rest against yours.

“Please tell me you’re waiting for cuddles,” he breathes, already walking backward toward the bed, guiding you along. “Because after that strategy meeting, I’ve been thinking about holding you for approximately four hours and seventeen minutes.”

Your arms wrap around him eagerly, face pressed against his chest, breathing him in deeply. The contact sends immediate relief flooding through your system, like finding shelter in a storm.

“The entire room feels cold without you,” you confess, clinging to him. “Want cuddles.”

“Then you’re in luck,” he murmurs against your hair, already walking backward toward the bed, keeping you firmly in his embrace. “Because holding you happens to be my specialty.”

The back of his knees hit the mattress and you follow him down eagerly, arranging yourself against his chest, unwilling to allow even an inch of separation. His scent envelops you—warm and comforting.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining as he presses a kiss to your temple. Through the view beside the bed, stars streak by in ribbons of light, but his eyes remain fixed on you.

“I could hold you like this forever,” he whispers against your hair, his arms forming a protective circle around you.

In this moment, wrapped in Caleb’s arms, the rest of the universe fades away—leaving only the two of you, connected exactly as you needed to be.

Based on this request.

[alchemistc]

favors

Tommy's the kind of asshole who checks his phone at the table in the middle of a first date, now.

In his defence, it hasn't been a great first date. And not in any sort of charming way, either.

In his defence, he's been waiting on this text for what feels like longer than it actually has been (four weeks, three days - he feels stupid admitting he's got a rough estimate of the hours too, but the point is he's been waiting. Hoping. Took this invitation to dinner as an attempt to remind himself he was the one who walked out.)

Tommy is absolutely the kind of asshole who glances up from his lap to find his date staring at him with his jaw clenched and doesn't bother to make more of an excuse than "Sorry, family thing, I gotta go."

Tommy's the kind of asshole who drops three twenties on the table and doesn't bother to say goodbye as he winds his way through tables - this place was pretentious as fuck, anyway - and pushes through the rotating door.

He's not even halfway to his truck when his phone displays an incoming call.

The last time he'd seen that name flash across his screen he'd been - well, he'd been a ball of nerves for all of five seconds before a winded voice had asked him to commit some light treason and Tommy had hopped to.

"Evan. Hey."

He remembers Evan had always thought he was so cool, and he sort of wishes Evan could see him now, with sweaty palms and a nervous hitch to his step as he twists around the wire fencing that will lead him to the truck he'd dropped thirty-five bucks to park, in this stupid downtown lot for this stupid date that hadn't distracted him for a minute at the stupid restaurant that only served tapas and hipster whiskey.

His voice is a little tremulous, a little off. "Hi Tommy."

Tommy doesn't waste time. He's done enough of that, and Evan sounds - Jesus he sounds awful. Sad, deep in his bones. Tired. A little out of it. "Everything okay?"

"I did have feelings for you. When I said that. I - It was such a shitty thing to say and I realized I never apologized for it even though I meant to and...and I did. I do, still, really."

It's the kind of opening Tommy couldn't have dreamt up in a million years. It's solid proof that Evan has worked it over in his mind at least half as many times as Tommy, trying to figure out where it all went wrong, how he'd ruined it so quickly when everything he'd been a sad sack about pretending he didn't want had been right there, ready for the taking. When he'd done that devastating bambi-eyed, through the lashes glance up, even though they were the same fucking height, and Tommy had stuck his foot in his mouth so badly he'd knocked out a couple teeth.

"Okay. I -."

Whatever he'd have come up with in that moment escapes his brain a second later when Evan continues.

"Which is why what I wanted to ask you may be, like, super awkward."

Tommy's a little grateful to find his truck is only two spaces from where he is at the moment. Has to bite back the sharp deprecating laugh when he realizes this is another fucking favor, not a goddamn reconciliation. He left a date for this.

A bad one.

But still.

"Okay." Clipped is a good term for the way the word comes out of his mouth. He's already wincing before he's even finished saying it, because if he can tell Evan's hurting from his voice alone, surely Evan can tell from his own tone that he's...annoyed. In pain. Wishing he could rip the memory of Evan Buckley from the spot it's nestled beneath his ribcage, where he can't shake it loose.

Evan's quiet for a long, long moment. They'd been great at getting immediately horny any time there was even a hint of strife. Not so easy to do when they haven't been together now for longer than they ever were. "I was wondering if I could borrow your truck on Tuesday."

And that's - that's a fairly reasonable request, as far as the 118 standard goes. Still makes him want to cry, a little.

"Can I ask why?"

"It's... Uh...?" The pause lasts long enough that Tommy has to check and make sure Evan's still on the line. His next words are quieter, but he can hear the tremble in them. Has to bite down the urge to make himself a shield against whatever it is that has him so emotional. Not his job, anymore. If it ever even had been.

The farther removed he is from all of this, the more he wonders if he really had imagined the connection between them. How the intimate moments felt charged with more than a desire to rip each other's clothes off, how the silly moments had felt like the prologue of a long and happy story.

"It's fine, Evan. I'll, uh - have to check my schedule but I think I can make it work."

He's free Tuesday. He and his truck both are. But maybe... Maybe this has run its course. Maybe Tommy will have to make more of an effort, his next bad first date.

"Eddie's moving back," Evan says, and there's a weird twist to his voice, a quirk around the name Tommy doesn't recognize. He'd always said "Eddie" with the kind of reverence Tommy couldn't fully grasp, a superhero and a confidante all rolled up in the lazy smirk and cow-brown eyes of a man Tommy had no hope of beating out on the Important To Evan Buckley scale. But if Tommy had to put a description to it, Evan kind of spits the name, now. "And until I can figure out a place to stay I need to get a few things in storage quickly. I just thought - it was stupid. Obviously it's short notice, and you shouldn't feel obligated to -."

"My spare room is empty," Tommy says. Tommy lies, more accurately. It's currently storing all the renovation shit he's been accumulating since the breakup turned him into an insane person pretending he knows a damn thing about fixing up a house.

This pause seems to hold a little more weight to it.

"...okay?" And there's - there's something there, in his voice, sun warm and yellow, bacon cooling on a paper towel and eggs still not plated while Evan swallowed and asked the one question Tommy had been hoping he wouldn't ask.

"I just meant - why spend the money on a storage unit, right?"

"Tommy."

"Let me check my schedule. I can get back to you. If Tuesday works, we can just - we can figure it out from there."

"Tommy."

And that's his "you're spiralling" voice. Tommy hadn't heard it often. Too busy trying to be as cool as his shiny new boyfriend thought he was. Too busy choking down the urge to sink a knife into his ribcage and carve out his heart to hand it over.

"I'll let you know by tomorrow morning," Tommy promises, and before he lets his words get away from him he ends the call.

Jesus fuck.

Hell.

What the fuck?

---

Tommy's so frayed with nerves he spends the entire drive slowly wearing a groove into the side of his cheek. By the time he makes it to the quiet street and sees Evan's Jeep parked on the curb, gate open and already stuffed full of boxes Tetris-style, he feels like he might just fucking explode.

It makes the terse, perfunctory head nod from Eddie on his way up the paved path just that much more confusing. That much more frustrating. He's got a set of keys swinging from his fingers, and doesn't even glance behind him as Evan pops the door open with a hip and stacks a box on top of two others already sitting in the porch.

There's clearly more going on here than Tommy is privy to.

"You aren't helping?" It's an innocent question. He doesn't even mean anything by it. Across the yard, Evan goes tense. Halfway down the drive, Eddie goes still, and swivels his gaze to Tommy.

"No one asked me to." By the stoop, Evan tips his gaze down, suddenly incredibly interested in whatever the label on the box he just set down says. He seems small. Not the man who'd guided him backwards up the lawn with so much tongue Tommy hadn't realized where he was until they were already inside. Not the man who'd confidently held a funeral for a long dead cowboy and roped Tommy into it without a care in the world that Tommy didn't believe in ghosts.

"Well, if anyone else was subletting you'd probably have had to give them more than a weeks notice to pack up their shit and leave, so I figured you'd be helping," Tommy says, because whatever the hell is going on with Eddie's face right now has him ready to raise locked wrists to chin height.

Eddie's tongue rolls along the inside of his cheek. "Buck says he's got it."

Knife, meet tension.

Tommy's always been more of a blunt instrument.

"Right."

"Didn't realize 'got it' meant calling in a favor with his ex, but hey, I haven't been around, in a while."

"Do we have a problem, Diaz?"

Eddie levers himself into the driver's seat of a vehicle that very distinctly isn't his truck. "Lot of that going around, at the moment."

That stone-faced look from the funeral is back on Evan's face.

Tommy's fist are clenched. He doesn't have a clue when that happened, or why it takes quite so much effort to shake his fingers loose.

Eddie clocks it. Stares for a long, long moment. Slams the door closed and backs out of the drive a little quicker than advisable, if the glare from the neighbor watering her hydrangeas is anything to go by.

He doesn't quite peel off down the street, but it seems like it takes him some effort to drive like a responsible adult.

Evan doesn't meet his gaze when he lopes across the lawn to meet him at the door.

He's gotta break the silence somehow. "So. Diaz seems pissed at me."

"It's not you."

"Uhuh."

"It's - I said something he -." Evan frowns. Twists a finger up into the slack of the tape along the top of one box. "Same old story. Buck makes it all about himself."

Tommy's missing something.

Tommy absolutely doesn't have the right to pry.

"What the hell does that mean?" Tommy asks, and watches the marble crumble.

---

It takes a day and a half to get everything out of Eddie's. Another half a day to stuff whatever they can into Tommy's bare spare room.

He'd bought a shed and stuffed the contents of his reno-supplies into it indiscriminately two nights earlier, at the ass end of three 24's from hell, and throws up an ironic thanks that Evan hadn't come by nearly often enough to be surprised by the new shed, or the dozen half-finished projects littering the house.

Tommy learns a lot of things that make him want to scream, over the course of the four-day span they squeeze that moving timeframe into.

It takes everything in him not to shoulder-check Eddie on the way out, once the final box is loaded into the bed of Tommy's truck.

He'd given them some privacy, before they left. Hopeful that Eddie would back down from this escalating argument of theirs, hopeful that he'd remember that his best fucking friend had sacrificed a hell of a lot, to allow him to move to El Paso. That he'd lost more since.

Evan hadn't spoken, the entire drive back to Tommy's.

He asks Evan out to coffee a moment before he offers to let him sleep on the couch until he finds something more permanent.

He should be less surprised than he is when they end up naked and sweaty and panting in his bed an hour later.

"We have to stop doing this."

Evan bites a nipple, and Tommy hisses.

"I'm serious, Evan. I can't do casual with you."

That gives him Evan's full attention. "What does that mean?"

"It means when I sleep with you I'm definitely having feelings for you."

He regrets the comment. Evan blows a raspberry into his sternum, and rolls onto his side to take in Tommy's expression. It's gotta be - well, it's gotta be a fucking mess. Just an absolute shit show of terror at having revealed too much. "I deserved that one."

Tommy smooths a hand over his shoulder. "You didn't, actually." After what he's been hearing about his friends and family, lately, Tommy's suddenly very aware of the words coming out of his mouth. "What I was trying to dance around is telling you I want to try again, and I don't want to fuck it up by falling into bed without actually...talking about it."

Evan snorts. Hitches his leg a little higher across Tommy's thigh. Yeah. Too late for that.

"I baked, to stop thinking about you. I baked cookies, and brownies, and three kinds of bread, and a Baked Alaska, and twelve different banana bread recipes, and - and it didn't change the fact that all I wanted to do was talk to you. See your face when you pull that stupidly bitchy look every time I don't know one of your references. Hold your hand and - and just be somewhere with you. Didn't matter where, I just...wanted. And I couldn't have it. So I baked."

"You made a Baked Alaska?"

"Tommy," Evan chides, but there are tears springing to the corner of Tommy's eyes and -

God he'd fucked this up so royally.

"Move in with me," Tommy says, the hysteria bubbling up in his throat, and he swallows it down, and down, and down again, because as the words settle under his skin, he realizes they feel right. What Evan had wanted, all those months ago, he'd wanted it too. He'd just been so fucking sure it would destroy him, in the end.

He's so goddamn tired of denying that what he really wants is for the rest of his life to be storied by memories of the man at his side, right here in this moment.

It's terrible timing. The worst idea. They're both rung out emotionally, grief and anger and insecurities bubbling just under the surface, ready to rise and make their lives miserable the moment they leave this bubble.

They haven't talked about any of it, not really.

"I'm serious. Why be apart, and all that?"

"Tommy."

The way his name curls out of Evan Buckley's mouth is like a favorite song. He never gets tired of hearing it.

Even when it's exasperated and confused. "I'm in love with you," Tommy murmurs, because his streak of insanity clearly hasn't passed. Evan's breath hitches. The worst part is that it's true. In a way he doesn't know how to quantify. He'd do a hell of a lot more than steal government property, for this man. He'd stay, for this man, at the risk of destroying his entire soul.

"Don't ask me because you feel sorry I'm technically homeless." It's an out. Teed up and ready for Tommy to swing. Tommy goes for the bunt.

"Pretty sure that was more of a demand than a question. You can say no."

Evan peeks through his lashes, chin tipped against Tommy's chest. "What if you change your mind?"

Well. That's a sore subject. Should have expected that.

Tommy slips a hand down his side. Gathers up his hand to slide their fingers together. "I won't. Believe me, at this point I've tried."

There's a quirk to Evans smile he hasn't seen in a long time. He's missed it. God, he's missed it.

This doesn't fix anything. Not a damn thing.

But Tommy doesn't want him to spend a single night going forward wondering whether or not he's worth all the trouble the rest of his family seems to have made him feel he is.

They'd been there, before. Right on the edge of something serious. Something permanent.

They can get it back.

"You're being serious," Evan comments, like he needs the confirmation just to make sure he's not hallucinating. Tommy hooks one of his legs, rolls until Evan is half under him.

"Baked Alaska serious," he intones, just to see Evan laugh.

"Where am I gonna put my bike rack?" he asks, after a serious, weighty pause, and Tommy presses in to suck Evans lower lip between his teeth in retaliation.

[enhani-ki]

round with my baby - reader x ni-ki

warnings: smut, pregnancy scare, cursing, etc.

sex with your boyfriend ni-ki had never really been possible before. between his packed schedule and the fact that his dorm was never truly empty, there was just never a right moment.

you both always kept things quiet and sneaky—stolen kisses behind closed doors, hands slipping under clothes when no one was looking. every moans was muffled against the crook of each other's necks, always heated and hurried but stopping just before things went too far.

ni-ki didn't have much experience either, but he admitted that with you, he feels more confident. being close to you made him curious—eager to touch, explore, and try all the things he'd only ever thought about before.

"fuuuck," he groaned, head falling forward to rest against yours. "you feelーyou feel so good, baby."

and ever since he got some time off, ni-ki didn't wasted a second and spent every moment with you. he doesn't even care now if there were people in the dorm while he's fucking you.

"faster, riki—please, please," you cried out, fingers digging into his back as you tried to pull him closer, like it would somehow make him go deeper.

your inside walls were so warm, so wet, he swore it should've been easy to move—but you were gripping him too well, it's so hard to think straight.

your head was spinning too. his hips slapped against yours with so much urgency, his breathless moans falls with every thrust. you felt his cock twitched inside of you. he was close.

"wait—shit, shit, shit," he gasped, eyes wide as he tried to pull out, but it was too late.

ni-ki's cum was already leaking from your swollen pussy. it was still spilling from his tip also, thick and hot... your boy couldn't help it as it really felt too good to stop in time.

"oh my god—baby…" ni-ki kissed you, guilt flashed in his face, though his rock-hard cock was twitching against your inner thigh, begging to be inside again.

"mmh, it felt good," you whispered. wrapping your arms around him needy, even after he had filled you.

"yeーyeah? can i put it back in?" he asked, wiping the sweat off your forehead before pressing a kiss on your lips.

"yes, riki... hurry," you moaned. ni-ki lined himself back into the mess he made between your thighs, groaning as he slid inside. your body was already sensitive, overstimulated, but the moment he filled you again, you suddenly prefer if he could fuck you 'til you go dumb.

your back arched off the bed. "how—how come you're so good?" you asked him. leaning to bite his lower lip, enough for it to sting and for him to hiss.

ni-ki cursed under his breath before chuckling, eyes locked on the way your body trembled beneath him. the sheets were already soaked from the juices of slick and his cum dripping from your swollen cunt. "you're so sexy,"

he leaned back to watch himself slide in and out of you—slow, deep, then fast. the sight made his breath hitch, seeing how his cock glistened each time it dragged out before sinking back in. "babe, you're dripping everywhere…"

you hands clawed at his shoulders, "almost thereーriki, i'm—!" ni-ki felt your pussy throbbing inside, he picked up his pace the moment he heard you call out his name. "cum," he demanded, panting while kissing the corner of your mouth. "let me feel you, baby."

he held you tight the moment your walls fluttered around him, locking you in place as you came. your sharp cries filled the room, trying to push him away.

and without missing a beat, ni-ki started thrusting harder and faster, pounding into your soaking pussy while covering your neck with sloppy kisses and licks. "that's it, y/n... cum on my cock," he whispered. "soak me, and i'm gonna fill you up—i swear."

his words shot pleasure straight to your core that you can't stop leaking. he started cumming too almost instantly after, the hot spurts of his release surged deep inside your womb.

"fuuuck, take it all," ni-ki gasped, slamming into you a few more times while you milked him for every last drop of his seed.

his cock were still buried inside, twitching as he collapsed on top of you. ni-ki looked up to press soft kisses to your neck, your jaw, your lips "i love you so much, y/n..."

"i love you too, baby."

the period tracker, which you both used more as a joke at first, now looked insane—full of hearts and entries of unprotected sex.

...too many "didn't pull out" notes to count.

even when he hadn't moved yet, you already felt like crying. all ni-ki did was stay still inside, cock throbbing gently, but your eyes welled up.

he pulled back, gave a shallow thrust, then froze. "y/n…" he whispered, staring at your heaving tits. his brows were furrowed like he's thinking about something mid-fucking. "i—fuck—i don't know," he said leaning down to kiss your cheek, then your lips. "if i finish inside you again… you might really get pregnant."

your breath got caught in your throat, "huhー?" ni-ki kissed you again before you could say anything, his tongue roamed inside that all you could do was to whimper into his mouth.

"i'm gonna take care of you, baby."

days passed, then weeks. your body starts to feel strange, your body felt heavy, and on top of that... your period didn't come.

you ignored it and blamed it on stress, but you also stopped texting ni-ki back. you stopped answering your boyfriend's calls because every time his name lit up your screen, your stomach flip.

you don't know what to say to him. you weren't even sure what you feel but you know you needed space, even though all it did was make your head hurt more.

riki: talk to me, please.

riki: baby?

ni-ki showed up at your place eventually. he didn't say anything at first—he just sat beside you and pulled you into his arms to hold you tight. he kissed your temple, your cheek, and the top of your head.

"why don't you talk to me?" he asked softly, hurt, but mostly concerned.

"iーi didn't know how," you whispered. "i just… i feel weird. and i don't even have my period yet."

"riki… i don't know if i'm just being paranoid or if something's actually happening." you sniffled, his arms tightened protectively around you.

"it's possible," you continued. "i mean… with how much we've been—y'know…"

"with how much i came inside you every chance i got?" he finished the words for you, smiling gently as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

you looked away, blushing at his words. "don't say it like that… i wanted it too."

"i know, but it's still on me," he said softly. "'m sorry, baby." ni-ki cupped your face and kissed you sweetly, brushing his thumb along your cheek... he loves you too much.

"i told you," he murmured. "no matter what happens—whatever you want—i'm going to take care of you... promise."

he then tilted your chin up until your teary eyes met his. "you're not alone, y/n."

"you're so pretty," ni-ki pulled you in his chest, letting you rest while his hand stroked your back gently. "you know what i'm thinking about sometimes?" he asked, burying his face in your hair. "coming home to you. you, wrapping your arms around me…"

"or letting me bend you over the counter, fucking you on the couch... having our mess all over the place."

"what?!" you laughed through a teary smile, feeling warm for the first time in days.

he chuckled too, "yeah. i want to see you walking around naked," he murmured, lips grazing your skin...

"you can be swollen, round with my baby."

you looked up at him and gave his arm a light slap, but your glare didn't last when he pouted, silently asking for a kiss.

you couldn't help it. you just chuckled and leaned in after watching your boyfriend turn to a man then back to being a cute ridiculous boyfriend again.

a/n: this is crazy T-T prayers for reader plzzz + posted this along with enhypen as your "stressed" boss check it out too (^_^) also made this listening to sweet love by chris brown.

masterlist: マスターリストm.list

[classyrbf]

super horny babymama!reader with babydaddy!suguru tending to her every needs no matter how dire or casual they may be.

thank you for the request pookieeee, i hope you like it <3

you sat there staring at your phone, an unamused look on your face as you read the text from your supposed to be date tonight.

hate to do this, but I gotta cancel last minute…

all you can do is sigh in disappointment, rolling your eyes and tossing your phone onto your bed. You didn’t have the energy to respond, quite literally drained from scrolling on dating apps twenty four seven and having dates canceled. Getting back into the dating life was harder than you thought, especially now since you were single mother. It’s been tough finding someone, wanting a long lasting relationship and a nice guy who’ll also prove that he’s good enough for your kid too.

Even if you can’t find someone for long term at the moment, you were definitely in need for a good fuck. You couldn’t remember the last time you actually had someone in your bed. The built up sexual frustration added to your stress. You were so excited for this day too, even got Shoko to babysit for you after begging and begging. You frowned, heels clicking against the floor, getting a good look at yourself in the mirror, dress hugging you in all the right places and your makeup enhancing your features. It was a complete waste.

Whatever. You’ll just use the time to have some fun for yourself, reaching into your drawer to pull out your vibrator, hoping that it’ll help take some of the edge off. Any longer without cumming and you feel like you might explode. Unfortunately a horrible idea pops into your head the second you reach in your drawer. An idea that involved calling your baby daddy for a quick fuck.

You and suguru were great at co parenting, but getting too close would always make things messy and confusing, but would it really hurt to have him back in your bed again after a few months. The more and more you thought about it the nastier your thoughts became. He knew your body like the back of his hand, knew all your sweet spots, what made you tick and how to make you cum within minutes. Your pussy throbbed at the thought, and you broke.

You dialed his number, the phone only ringing twice before you heard his voice on the phone. “Hello?” He answered.

“Hey, Suguru.” You bit your lip.

“Hey, baby. Everything alright?” Despite not being together for a while, he never dropped the nickname despite your comments about it.

“Mmm, yeah. I just…my date canceled on me and I was wondering—”

“Need to me to come over?” He finished your sentence, letting out a breathy chuckle. “Anything for you, baby.”

“Yeah, but…I’m just feeling really fucking horny right now,” you take a deep breath, “and I need you so badly. I’ve been pent up for so fucking long, Sugu,” you whine.

“I know, baby, I know. Just be ready for me when I get there.”

Now twenty minutes later, Geto has you riding his cock, his hands squeezing at your hips. You’re bouncing on him with such intensity, greedily pleasing yourself, using his cock to get off. And he lets you without a care in the world. He watches your pussy cream around him, your pretty tits bouncing in his face, tempting to suck on. “That’s it, ride that dick,” he pants, reaching down and rubbing your clit with his thumb.

“Nnnghh, Sugu,” you cry, lewd moans bouncing off the walls and straight to his ears. “I love your cock…feels so fucking good,” you whimper. Your hips are slamming down harder, eyes rolling back at the pleasure coursing through your veins. Your chest heaves up and down with each breath, falling back on your hands and spreading your legs more, grinding your hips against his cock. “Mmmph,” your teeth catch your lower lip.

“Ohh yes, show off that pretty pussy to me,” he groans, still messily rubbing your clit. He feels your cunt clench down on him, a broken moan escaping his lips. “Fuckkk, I can’t get enough of you.” He bucks his hips up, fucking you back. The sound of your pussy squelching makes his cock throb even harder, your juices gathering at the base of his cock with each lethal thrust.

“Shit, shit, right there!” You moan. As you grow closer to your orgasm, your body grows tired from riding, making it hard to catch your breath. Geto notices how much of you slowed down, brows furrowed in concentration before he pulls you up and holds you against his sweaty chest. His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly as he takes over, plunging his cock into you. “Ohhhh shit. Oh my god you’re so fucking deep, Sugu!” Your nails claw at his shoulders, your moans pouring into his ear.

The sound of skin against skin echoes through the room, his cock thrusting in and out a rough and selfish pace. It’s like he needed your orgasm more than you with the way he was fucking you. He always knew how to do it just right, making your toes curl, leaving you speechless and a drooling mess. “Cum, baby, fucking cum,” he whimpers, gritting his teeth as his movements grow sloppier. “No one else can make you feel this good, huh? Fucking you so deep and raw, making you cum harder and harder round after round,” his sultry voice sends shivers down your spine. “This pussy is mine. Say it.” You can hear the cocky smirk in his voice.

“Ah, yes, it’s yours!” You cry out, biting down on his shoulder as he continuously pounds into you, satisfying your every craving and need to be fucked. He knows exactly how you need it, and puts it down just right. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard for you to stay away, and he plays right into each time because he can’t stay away either. He’s there at your every beck and call no matter what.

Your pornographic moans grow only louder, dripping cunt clenching around his thick cock before your body begins shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. “I’m cummingggg!” Your eyes roll back, incoherent mumbles leaving your lips while he fucks you through it.

“Fuck, yes, you feel so good!” His grip on you is bruising, your pussy creaming more than before as his thrusts grow stronger. “Ohh shit, you’re bouta make me fucking cum,” he breathes heavily, quickly making the decision to pull out before he ends up making a rash decision and getting you pregnant again. The warmth of his sticky cum coats your pussy lips, geto making sure to smear it between your folds. “Damn, baby,” he breathily chuckles.

“Oh my god,” you lay there on his chest, trying to catch your breath. “God, I haven’t cum that hard in so long. I feel like I blacked out for a second,” you giggle. His fingers hook under your jaw, pulling you in for a kiss, his tongue sliding against your lips and into your mouth. Your hands travel down his toned stomach, pulling away. “Fuck me again,” you whisper, your hand sliding lower, wrapping around his hard cock. Geto wastes no time, flipping you onto your back, your knees pushed up to your chest.

You were ready to be here all night.

[lifedaiiry]

Here is a MASSIVE guide to those curious:

Apeshit: Violently crazy. You are setting buildings on fire and punching babies.

Batshit: "Woah, crazy". Grandma is dyeing her hair blue. Playing loud music at the library.

Chicken shit: You're a coward, but not afraid. You can't take responsibility.

Talking shit: Spreading gossip/rumors/lies/insults too much.

Ratshit also means bad quality.

No shit: Also said as "No shit, sherlock!" which means "That's so obvious!"

Jackshit: Nothing. "I don't have jackshit!"

Holy Shit: "Wow that is so shocking I never expected that!!"

Dipshit: You are dumb

Tough Shit: You either like it the way it is, or leave

Good shit: a good thing / good quality

Shit on a shingle: An American food, not a saying or slang

THE shit (emphasis on the word "The"): The thing you are talking about is perfect. Never about people.

This shit / that shit: This thing / that thing but with cursing

Shit out of luck: There is no hope of success

I've got shit / I ain't got shit: I have nothing

Shit stirrer: troublemaker

I shit you not: I'm not lying/I'm not joking

he/she/they are built like a brick shit house: They are either very strong or very fat

shit faced: extremely drunk (cannot be used for drugs)

shit for brains: you're really stupid

cut the shit: stop lying/stop being silly

shitting bricks: you're horrified

Scared shitless: you're afraid

shit-eating grin: A smug look

I don't know shit: I don't know anything

in deep shit: you are in the worst kind of trouble

when shit hits the fan: When things go wrong

full of shit: someone is lying

lose my shit/she lost her shit: They suddenly became explosive with anger

to give a shit: to care

Are you shitting me? Are you kidding me?

No shit? (with an emphases on being asked as a question) Wow, really? That's surprising.

start shit/starting shit/to start shit: to cause trouble

for shits and giggles: when someone does something for no reason at all. Doesn't have to be humorous but can be.

I don't give a shit: I don't care

"he/she/they are on my shitlist now" I hate them

shoot the shit: wasting time by talking about nothing important

shitshow: it was a disaster. For example: "Well, that concert was a shitshow, am I right?"

shitload: a lot of things (never about people. Just objects)

Hot shit: always said as "He thinks he's hot shit" or "She thinks she's hot shit" or "They think they're hot shit" it means these people think they're all cool but it's not true

shit ton: a lot of things (same as shitload)

shit happens: Life happens that way, sometimes, and we cannot control it.

shit just got real: things are about to get serious/things are about to be terrible. Sometimes used sarcastically.

piece of shit: terrible person

I've got shit to do/I ain't got shit to do: I have nothing to do

shitpost: A funny post on social media

shithead: you're dumb

to shit on something: to make fun of something or say how terrible it is

You've gotta be shitting me! You've gotta be kidding me!

Well, no shit. This one is tricky. If said in a certain tone, it can mean they agree with you but they're being coy about it. Example: "I think everyone should have human rights." "Well, no shit." Usually their voice gets slightly higher at the end of "shit".

get your shit together: take responsibility, seek therapy, and do better. It means all of those things at once.

you ain't shit: you're worthless or you're not as cool as you think you are

Shit's real / shit's real, man: things are intense in the world/situation or whatever you said, they agree with it

Fuck that shit: "I have no respect for that thing/rule/way of life anymore"

let me know if I missed anything ^__^

english slang is awful i would hate to be learning this shit. like the word shit. something can be horseshit or bullshit which means it's a lie. but cow shit is just poop. and something can be dogshit which means it's really bad quality. but cat shit is just poop.

[h66nki]

give me one ⋆. 𐙚 ̊ nishimura riki

a visit to your aunt's house implants a thought in ni-ki: you would be a good mother. warnings; dirty talk, suggestive.

ni-ki feels it inside him. it comes like a fleeting thought in his head: you'd make a good mom. the feeling only grows when he sees you with children and this helps confirm his theory.

he watches you play with your younger cousin. the little girl is very energetic and has you running around, chasing her, making you sit on the floor to put together puzzles, playing hide-and-seek.

he's lost count of how many games you've played to keep her entertained, and even though he also played along with you, there came a time when the girl's effusiveness tired him out. you didn't tire, though.

you seemed to love the girl so much that it was impossible for you to say no, agreeing to each and every one of her suggestions.

at one point during the busy afternoon, the little girl slipped and almost hit herself, causing her mother to scold her and make her burst into tears.

you quickly took her in your arms, picking her up and cradling her against your chest. the toddler cried, inconsolable, throwing a tantrum. you could handle it and quickly manage to calm her down with sweet whispers and sweet promises in her ear. ni-ki watched the scene with love and curiosity... maybe something more.

it seems to be so natural for you to deal with a child and his antics: it makes him think.

ni-ki doesn't waste the opportunity to have your full attention on him again, so when your cousin is calmer and more cheerful you return her to your aunt so they can spend time together while you go to the bathroom.

ni-ki disappears into the hallway like a shadow, not giving you enough time to close the door. he gets into the room with you and closes the door himself.

"love?" you ask, confused.

the boy pins you between his body and the sink, pressing himself against you. "there isn't a drop of sanity left in my body, and it's your fault," he complains.

you laugh at his dramatics, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. his hands grip your waist, holding you in place.

"what did i do now?"

"you look so beautiful playing with the baby... i can't stop thinking about what a great mother you'd make." your heart pounds inside your chest at the compliment. "give me one, please."

your eyes widen in disbelief. for a moment, you think you haven't heard correctly... that you've misinterpreted him.

"give you what?"

ni-ki hides his face in your neck, placing small kisses on your skin.

"a baby," he says. "let's have a baby."

your body trembles between his, his tongue tickling you. a baby? no way... you're both too young for such a responsibility.

"i... i don't think it's ideal right now," you try to refute, caressing the back of his neck as you let him kiss you.

"please..." he begs. "i never ask for anything, just give me a baby, please." and he's right. ni-ki never asks you for anything, but can you give him this? "let me fuck you a baby deep inside you."

"ni-ki..."

you feel him breathe shakily in your ear. his large hand moves to your lower abdomen, resting it there. "imagine a baby here... a child of ours."

you bite your lower lip, trying not to make a sound. he's hard against you, you can feel it.

"you would look so beautiful with your swollen stomach... everyone would know that you love me so much that you let me fill you with my cum... that you let me breed you to bear the fruit of our love."

"don't say those things..." you try to stop him, but his words have an effect on you that you can't deny, not even if you really wanted to.

his eyes look at you, filled with hope.

"we would be the best parents in the world... just you, me... and a beautiful little girl... healthy, precious, and intelligent like her mommy."

"a girl...?" you repeat with hope. you feel persuaded; you don't know if it's because of the conversation or his kisses... maybe because of everything. ni-ki looks so cute begging that it would be inhuman not to have a little doubt about your initial thought.

"a baby girl," he affirms. ni-ki hides his face in the hollow of your shoulder again. he breathes shakily, excitedly. "please, let me fill you now... give me a little princess."

[crowsofdarkness]

Today's lesson with Bucky: Oral-Bucky needs his meal

Part Five to the Teach Me series. If you haven't read the other parts, you might be a little confused. Tags for this are open, just comment if you're interested!

18+ CW's below the cut( oral with female recieving and slight possesive Bucky)

tags: @muchwita @chrisevansleftnipple @georgeyblast @justsebstan @memenerdlover @mrsalexstan @mandydornanjohnson @spencypookie13 @wintrsoldrluvr @ronjantz @buckysgirl27 @starstuck-cowgirl @idkman5335 @winchestert101 @dhoruwolfie @amanda-says @felicity-lemons-thoughts @studious-muppet @trixilove257

BUCKY

As soon as Y/N stepped foot back into the tower, I was quick to get her attention, letting her know that our next lesson was starting right fucking now. She’d been gone with Bill for a week on a mission and it was killing me inside on not seeing her. I never meant for me to catch feelings for her, these lessons were only supposed to be that. But something in the way she opened up to me, figuratively and literally, and trusted me to be the one to teach her sexual things made me realize that I could never let her walk away from this into someone else's embrace.

How could I teach her how to suck my cock only for her to use those lessons on someone else? 

Leaning against the kitchen counter with a scowl, I watched as Bill and Y/N talked for a few moments. I knew she saw me, her eyes widening when they landed on me, but she tried her best to not show how excited she was. Even though we were feet away from each other, I could hear how fast her heart was pounding in her chest. 

This mother fucker needs to let her leave otherwise I’m going to throw her down on the couch to eat her out right infront of him. 

Damn, Bucky. Chill the fuck out. 

Running my left hand over my face, I took a centering breath before finally walking over to Y/N and Bill. 

“Mr. Barnes!”

 The asshole fucking saluted me. Who the hell salutes people nowadays?

I gave him a curt nod before motiong towards Y/N. “You’ve had her quite long enough. She’s needed elsewhere.” 

Wrapping my right arm around her, I began leading her towards my bedroom in the tower. She playfully smacked my chest and as much as she wanted to be upset with me dragging her away, I could see the hint of a smile pulling at her lips. 

“You can’t just drag me away, ya know,” she said, her voice sweet like honey. 

I made a noise in the back of my throat that sounded like a mix of a grunt and sigh. “Our next lesson is starting now. Did you need to shower?” 

I noticed she was wearing street clothes but figured I would double check to see if she wanted to wash away the mission's filth from her skin. I would ask how it went but I read over the debriefing files while I waited for her to get back so there was no need to waste time. 

I wanted to taste her. Now.

“I showered on the jet. So what’s the next lesson?” She asked just as we stepped inside my bedroom. 

I’d spent all day cleaning my living quarters for her, making sure it looked and smelled clean. 

I motioned for her to sit on the bed while I shucked off my jacket, leaving me in a grey shirt and black sweats. 

“Oral.” 

Her spine stiffened as she sat straighter on my bed, immediately twirling her fingers. A nervous habit of hers I’ve noticed early on. 

“Me to you?” She asked, nerves lacing on every word. 

I shook my head while helping her lay back against my bed, wanting her to be comfortable. “You’ve been giving me a lot of pleasure. I think it’s time for me to return the favor.” 

Her bright eyes stared up at the ceiling, refusing to make direct contact with me, so with a long sigh I kneeled on the bed next to her so I could stare down at her. 

“Is that alright?” I questioned. 

“Yeah,” she hesitated at first, before nodding. “I’m just nervous because I’ve never had that before so I don’t know if I’ll like it.” 

I cupped her cheek with my left hand, her cheek leaning into my vibranium palm and it was evident how relaxed she became. Another reason why I couldn’t allow her to go to someone else for this. They could take advantage of her, force her into doing something she didn’t know how. 

“If you don’t like it, just tap the top of my head twice and I’ll stop, alright?”

“Okay,” she breathed. 

Tapping her thigh, I helped her out of her leggings and green panties, my cock jumping at the sight of not only it but her cunt as well. Almost immediately, Y/N tried to close her thighs tighter together to hide. 

“I haven’t shaved,” she whispered. 

“I don’t care,” I assured her with a tender kiss to the inside of her thigh. 

I truly didn’t. It seemed like she hadn’t shaved in a few days but that was not about to stop me. I needed Y/N, I needed to taste her, have her cum linger on my tongue for days. 

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” I breathed over her cunt, causing her to shiver. 

She did what I asked and I had to hold myself back from devouring her right then and there. I didn’t want to rush this. 

“That’s it, good girl,” I praised while adjusting my cock inside of my sweats. 

Anything to alleviate the blood rushing to it. 

“I’m going to try a few different things, let me know if you like them,” I said while flicking my gaze up at her from my spot between her legs. 

The way she looked at me with a look full of fondness made something inside of me twinge with an unknown feeling but I didn’t dare dwell on it. I needed to focus on what was in front of me. 

As soon as the tip of my tongue flicked her clit, tingles exploded throughout my body villing my veins with her taste. One simple taste of Y/N and I was hooked, addicted to her and suddenly in that moment I knew I’d never get enough of her. 

Her body shuddered when I did it two more times and before I could question if she liked it or not, Y/N let out a soft moan eliciting me further. So I dragged my tongue up and down her slit, tasting even more of her and I could stop the groan that slipped out. 

“Holy shit,” she breathed, fingers dragging through my hair. “I didn’t expect it to feel so good.” 

I hummed, lapping up more of her honey taste and let my tongue slip inside of her a bit. She bucked off the bed causing me to hold her in place with my vibranium hand against her hip. With the hand that wasn’t tied into my hair, she dragged her fingers along the vibranium knuckles and without saying anything, I knew what she wanted. 

I spent the next few moments switching from tongue fucking her and bitting and sucking on her clit. When she told me she liked it better when I paid more attention to her clit, I kept my mouth there. But still wanting to give attention to her cunt, I removed my left hand from her hip to tease her opening. 

“Please, please, please,” she begged, nearly humping my face. 

“What do you want, baby?” I asked right before wrapping my lips around her cunt to suck. 

“Fuck me with your fingers, Bucky.”

Hearing my name on a breathless moan made a fire ignite at the base of my spine. I began humping the bed to put pressure on my cock, desperate for some kind of friction. I pictured my cock was where my fingers were, deep inside her warmth, squeezing the life out of me. 

My fingers worked inside of her, curling up into that sweet spot I knew so well only fingering her twice. I became attuned to what her body came alive with and how much she loved it when I flicked my tongue over her clit before dragging my teeth over it. 

“Oh fuck,” she said with a hint of worry in her voice. “I’m close.”

“Cum for me, baby,” I pulled away from her for a moment, meeting her blissed out expressions. “It’s okay. You can cum like this.”

With my mouth on her again, I worked my fingers faster inside of her to urge her closer to her orgasm and soon, her honey taste exploded in my mouth. I humped the bed like a madman and devoured more of her. No one besides me would taste her, bring her this pleasure, or hear her moans. She would only cry out my name when she came apart. I’d be the only one that would see her naked, feel her skin upon mine. 

Images of her naked underneath me and on top of me as she rode me flashed in my mind causing me to eat more of her arousal, never letting up even after she came down from her high. I was sloppy humping my bed now as my own orgasm was on the tip of teetering off the edge, my body so numb I barely felt Y/N gently tug on my hair. 

“Bucky,” she panted. “I th-I think I’m going to cum again.” 

My fingers never stopped fucking her and leaving her clit, I pressed tongue inside of her too. My urgent mutters were muffled by her soft skin and all over again, the honey filled my mouth and my hips stalled against the bed when I felt a stickiness between my own legs. 

When I could tell Y/N was spent from her two orgasm, I reluctantly pulled away from her and titled my head up at her. My jaw ached, my fingers and chin were soaked with her arousal, and I didn’t doubt my hair was a mess due to her fingers because the way she looked at me made my heart stutter in my chest. 

“Holy fuck,” she choked on a breath while resting on her elbows. “That’s what I’ve been missing out on?” 

I chuckled. “I take it as you liked it, huh?” 

“I came twice, Bucky. That’s never happened before.” 

A boost of confidence filled me and I leaned back on my knees. “Well, I’m glad I could be of service but I need to shower.” 

Y/N gave me a puzzled look with furrowed brows so I motioned down to my lap; more so the wet spot on my sweats. 

“Oh my god,” she giggled behind her hands, a crimson hue covering her cheeks. “You sure made a mess.”

I leaned myself over her now, gazing deep into those bright eyes full of wonder, and didn’t stop to think of the ramifications on what I was about to do. Ghosting my lips over hers, I broke into a grin. 

“It’s all because of you, baby.” 

[shidoglazer]

sae itoshi smut mdni just pure filth i think

one thing about sae is that he’s extremely disciplined, so you should never expect to catch him masturbating, asking for sex or even watching porn for that matter.

and its quite funny, because sometimes you could see him, early in the morning just going about his day drinking his tea while his morning wood pokes out of his shorts, straining against the fabric. you try to keep your decency and not look, because how can this man be so shameless ?? obviously he’s not dense, he catches on quickly.

“get your mind out of the gutter.” he speaks in his raspy morning voice before walking towards you, giving you a light peck on the head as he heads towards the bathroom to get ready while you’re standing there embarrassed, confused, flustered and blushing.

though, he is just a human. if you tease and poke at him enough, he’ll let you ride his thigh to get off. don’t expect anything from him though, maybe just a few praises here and there— “you’re quite the sight, aren’t you? cmon, lets get you cleaned up.” as he picks you up after cumming on his thigh. nothing more than that.

well, unless you’re in the position where you’re jumping up and down on a silicone toy while moaning his name repeatedly, eyes shut as tears threaten to fall— a pleasant surprise for him when he got back from his training a little earlier than usual. he wouldn’t say anything yet, let alone make a noise, just let him enjoy the sight as his boner builds up.

“ah, sae, sae, sae! s’good s’good, mmaking me feel s’goood!!..”

“am i now?” …. shit.

your grinding stops and your eyes fly open to see your boyfriend crouching right in front of you, you try to muster something, anything, but your effort goes to waste as it transforms into a moan when saes hands trails to the plush of your ass, squeezing them gently as his face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“did you miss me too much? hadn’t been making a lot of time for you lately, hm?” one of his hands remain at your ass as once reaches up to stroke your back, acting as if a dildo isn’t stuffed in you right now. nevertheless, you nod sheepishly, the side of your head rubbing against his hair as your hands clutch onto his sweat dampened jersey. “..yeah.. missed you, sae. y’re a big fat brute for leaving me alone for so long.” in which he lets out a breathy chuckle, pressing a kiss onto your neck.

“then let me make it up to you. hm?” god, it was embarrassing how fast you nodded without hesitation.

(>﹏<) . . .

a/n im gonna leave you guys on a cliffhanger because i dont feel nice rn if u wanna know what happens next FOLLOW TO SHIDOGLAZER AND LIKE EVERY ONE OF HER POSTS !!!!! 🥰🥰😘😘😍😍

masterlist

[callmeoddity]

I agree with a lotta this and I disagree with a lotta this so I'ma be going through Point by Point

(only talking about the things I disagree with, or have something to say about)

It's a sandbox game, not an RPG -> not wrong. but it also has RPG mechanics that do not work well. And are badly Balanced that Mojang should be (and is) rebalancing

You can create difficulty and add challenge and modify files -> these things are not nearly as easy as you'd think they are. especially modding files. and if we're honest, difficulty isn't the real problem here. it's the balance of when, where, and how easy it is to obtain the problem mechanics (mending, elytra ect) and how they make other mechanics obsolete

When hypixel pvp creators talk about how lame netherite makes vanilla gameplay, I sigh -> I am not a PvP creator and I very genuinely believe that Netherite makes the game boring, once you have it. the most danger you'll ever be in is when you're FINDING the templates, and that is when you're not using it. properly enchanted netherite actually makes you immortal... and since you're not gonna be doing any real challenges, after you get it, there is no point other than bling

when someone complains that it's too easy to cheese a mechanic or obtain a villager trade I kind of want to scream. -> people optimize the fun outta games. and if the fun is this easy to optimize away, then there is a problem. and Mojang agrees with us on that too. making certain trades exclusive to certain areas (nevermind the fact that they didn't make villages for all the areas that have the specific villager variants)

You think elytra take the fun out of travel? Don't use it. -> no I don't think Elytra "take the fun outta travel" I think they make "Horses" (including camels, alpaca, Donkeys, and Happy Ghasts), Minecarts, and Boats irrelevant. I love Elytra and how fun they are to use. but they also make the other interesting forms of travel a complete waste of time to entertain. ESPECIALLY minecarts.

Download a mod pack or go play something different. -> this is a thought terminating cliche. "if you don't like it don't play it" isn't a response to criticism. It's you saying "your opinion doesn't matter"

anyway I've been talking too long. thank you for reading rant

"Minecraft needs to be rebalanced! It's too easy to get mending! It's too easy once you have elytra! All the challenges and bosses are optional!"

Yes. That's the point. That's GOOD actually. My little brother needs to be able to play minecraft as much as I can. It's a sandbox game, not an RPG. You can create difficulty and add challenge and modify files! Those are features in the game and regularly adjusted for just that purpose. But the base game is meant to be accessible and universal.

Especially when a lot of "content" comes in the form of professionals, people who earn a living being good at the game and have hours a day to put into it, our perspective is skewed. I love the hermits, but any time they say a farm "only took two hours" to build? I cringe. When hypixel pvp creators talk about how lame netherite makes vanilla gameplay, I sigh. And when someone complains that it's too easy to cheese a mechanic or obtain a villager trade I kind of want to scream.

It's easy *for you*. It's boring *for you*. It's not that it needs to change drastically, you just need to approach it differently. You have a moral objection to how "easy" it is to get a mending villager? Make the rule for yourself that you can only get mending from the loot table. You think elytra take the fun out of travel? Don't use it.

And before you say "well can't they just use accessibility features to make it easier?" NO. That's not the point of those features. Accessibility features that disable quicktime events or remove puzzles aren't to make a game easier, they're to make a game PLAYABLE. Accessibility features in minecraft are to disable view bobbing, change the visual distortions, add directional subtitles....things that make the game playable to people who need them.

Basically, please chill the fuck out about minecraft being easy. If it's too easy and you can't come up with a solution for that, maybe it's just not a game you enjoy playing. Download a mod pack or go play something different.

[anglbunny]

ruin ♡ Sae itoshi

cw: smut mdni, oral (f receiving), bunny!reader, reader's wearing a dress, based on this ask

⸝⸝♡⸝⸝♡

Maybe it was a bad idea cornering you like this. Sae usually thought things out, played things cool but not around you. Not when you looked so fucking delicious wearing that barely there dress during a party. 

You were too lost, too innocent to realize the effect it had on others. Especially on sae. The second he saw you, his hand was wrapped around your wrist, dragging you to some secluded area in the party where no one was present. 

“S-sae! Fuckk.. Please..” you whined, sae’s tongue circling your sloppy cunt. 

“You try and act all innocent but you got so wet just from being dragged and manhandled. Makes me think you’re not so innocent afterall, huh, bunny?” he grins but it was hard to see, as half his face was covered from your skin tight dress. 

You whimper, not being able to say or process anything that’s happening. It was too much and too little at the same time. Your body shook, fingers tangled in sae’s hair. When you couldn’t respond, he went back, keeping your pussy stretched open with his index and middle finger, his hot tongue licking across your sensitive cunt, pushing past your tight entrance. He was too good. Too experienced. Too much. 

His free hand wrapped around your thigh, fingers digging into the plump skin. He cried out his name, tugging at the roots. You swore that you’d pull his hair out at this point. 

Your body shook, you were so close but before you could finish he pulled out, breathing heavily, tongue partially hanging out, the taste of your cunt still linger on it. 

He stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You gasped when his hands found your ass, pulling you closer to him, his hard on pressing against your thigh. “Sae..” 

“The things i wanna fucking do to you, doll.” he groaned, “wanna take you home and rip this flimsy little dress off and take your virginity for good” you trembled, fingers wrapped around his shirt, clinging onto him. His voice was low and mean. 

“You want that? Want me to ruin you?” your face heated up, nodding against his chest.

“Speak up, say it. Wanna hear you.” 

“Ruin me, sae” 

“Fuck.. that’s my girl” he didn’t waste a second, lifting you up in his arms and pushing past the large groups of people towards his car. 

TL: @samm1e13 @demiitria @syleepy @chaoslibra @bontenxo @pinkymangacaps @riinniies @samthesimp1 @sapphireluv @s4turnx1 @nevvynev @cookiesandcreammy @rinniebinniebay @ravenbc @kamelika @luvsymai @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @silverwings920 @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @yanderebluelockfan @valexqpt @bigclownshoes @rinniewinnie787 @satorella @mihyas-dieehefrau

A/n: thank you for the request

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

[fic-girlie]

Hidden in plain sight

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader Summary: While promoting Gladiator II, you and Pedro keep your three-year relationship low-key, playing it cool in public. But behind closed doors—especially after the London premiere—passion and love overflow in a night full of intensity, comfort, and quiet devotion. Warnings: fluff, established relationship, explicit smut (18+), soft dom!pedro, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, language, dirty talk A/N: Thank you @kellyxo1 for the idea, again!

The lighting in the suite is too bright, as always. Cameras click. Laptops clack. The endless rhythm of press junket days, where the same questions are folded into new words and passed across the table like shiny candy. You’re seated on the left, angled ever so slightly toward Pedro, as always. There’s something in that small tilt of your body that comforts him—you don’t say it, but he knows it.

You’ve learned how to make each other laugh without a single word.

Today, he’s in a white button up. Curls tamed but not conquered. He’s got that easy charm dialed up, eyes soft, smile sharp, the kind of presence that people describe as “effortless” even though you know exactly how much effort he puts into staying calm in rooms like this.

The interviewer is young and clearly nervous. She fumbles through a question about character dynamics, some half-formed thought about power and vulnerability, and Pedro saves her with a warm chuckle and that gentle charisma that got him cast in this movie—and half the world’s hearts.

“She throws me to the ground in our second scene together,” he says, tossing a thumb in your direction. His voice is light, playful, but the way he glances at you—quick, fond, proud—makes your stomach flip.

You smirk. “I did not throw you to the ground. I gave you a gentle push. With force.”

He lets out a theatrical sigh. “And people wonder why I have trust issues.”

The room laughs. It’s easy. You make it look easy, the way your rhythms lock into each other like pieces that were always meant to fit. It’s not fake. It’s just not everything.

Because when you two share a look like that—one filled with years of stolen mornings, late-night scripts read aloud from opposite ends of a hotel bed, silent dinners when the exhaustion was too much to speak—it’s too much to explain to strangers. So you don’t. You let them see what you want them to see: a friendship that feels alive and quick and perfectly believable. And if someone catches a flicker of something more behind your eyes, that’s their business.

“I will say this,” Pedro continues, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees in that way he does when he’s feeling a little too exposed. “This one—” he gestures toward you, “—she’s dangerous with a sword and devastating with sarcasm. The duality is… genuinely terrifying.”

You laugh again, but the heat crawling up your neck is real. The way he praises you—quietly, gently, under the guise of teasing—always hits harder than it should.

“Better terrifying than boring,” you say smoothly, nudging your knee against his under the table. A soft pressure, fleeting. But he doesn’t shift away.

Your names trend together on social media almost daily now, not because of PDA or big declarations, but because people love trying to decode you. The inside jokes. The way he watches you when you speak, like he’s still discovering new things in your voice. How he sometimes interrupts interviews just to say, “Wait, tell the story about Morocco—the falcon one,” even when it has nothing to do with the question asked.

It’s a game you never meant to play, but now you both know the rules. Keep it fun. Keep it light. Let the world believe they’re watching something spark in real time.

Only you and Pedro know it’s been burning steady for years.

——

The boat had been someone’s spontaneous idea—Fred, probably, or maybe Pedro himself. A rare day off during the Italy shoot, too precious to waste indoors. You’d all been running on fumes, eyelids sunburned, costumes stiff with dust and leather, so the idea of turquoise water and cold drinks had seemed almost holy.

The boat was bigger than you’d expected, but still cozy enough that no one could pretend not to hear the conversations happening across it. A small crew kept to their business, steering and serving and politely pretending not to notice when someone made a bad joke or took too long choosing a playlist.

You wore a black one-piece under an airy linen cover-up. Pedro’s sunglasses had slid low on his nose. He hadn’t stopped smiling since his bare feet hit the deck.

From the start, it was easy. Laughter. Music. Connie swaying to Stevie Nicks with a drink in each hand. Joseph sitting on the edge of the deck, feet dangling above the sea, narrating dramatic fake scenes from the “Gladiator III: Vacation in Capri” as if the camera crew were rolling.

And then there was Pedro.

He hadn’t left your side since you boarded.

His hand brushed the small of your back when you walked. His fingers threaded with yours when you sat. It wasn’t deliberate—at least not for show. It was just who he was around you when no one was watching. Or when he forgot they were.

You found a spot in the bow, a patch of smooth wood catching full sunlight, and settled there with a drink in one hand and Pedro’s thigh beneath the other. He stretched out beside you, skin warm, shirt half-unbuttoned and clinging to the lines of his chest from a splash he'd taken earlier when someone dared him to jump in.

At one point, you laid your head on his shoulder, and his arm slipped around your waist like it belonged there. Like it always had.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this relaxed,” you murmured, watching the sunlight scatter diamonds across the waves.

“I’m not,” he said, glancing at you with a lazy smile. “I’m just pretending for your sake.”

“Convincing performance.”

“That’s what the Oscar’s for,” he whispered, and kissed your hair.

It wasn’t until the boat stilled—anchor dropped in some hidden cove off the coast—that the warmth lulled you fully under. Pedro’s heartbeat thudded steady beneath your cheek, and the ocean hummed a lullaby. You meant to just rest your eyes, just for a moment.

But you drifted. The boat rocked softly. The breeze lifted the hem of your cover-up. And you melted into him like he was home.

You woke to hushed voices and a shutter click that made Pedro flinch. One of the crew members quickly apologized, but Pedro just waved it off and tightened his arm around you.

“Sorry,” he whispered when he felt you stir. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

His voice was rough with sleep, lips warm against your temple. He hadn’t moved at all. You realized that—your body had molded to his side, your legs tangled lightly with his, one of your hands curled into the hem of his shirt. He could’ve shifted. He could’ve gotten up. But he hadn’t.

He’d stayed.

“They’re talking about us,” you murmured, voice groggy, heart quickened more from the closeness than the attention.

“They always do,” he said softly. Then, after a beat: “Let ’em.”

You stayed curled against him until the sun dipped low and someone called for group photos. Pedro helped you up, pressed a hand to the small of your back like he was still afraid you’d topple over.

Later that night, back at the little hotel, the whole group gathered around a fire pit in the courtyard. Someone opened wine. Someone else dragged a guitar out of nowhere. You sat beside Pedro again, this time in a dry T-shirt of his and shorts that didn’t quite reach your knees, and the others pretended not to notice how much of the evening you spent tucked into the crook of his arm.

Connie snapped a picture—your legs over Pedro’s lap, his hand on your bare knee, the soft flicker of firelight between you. You didn’t see it until weeks later, posted with the caption “Sunset stunners. Starring: these two, in love and annoying about it.”

The clip started circulating almost immediately. Cast members retelling the boat story on talk shows. Paul grumbling playfully, “I thought I was the romantic lead, but apparently Pedro and his girl stole the whole damn film.” Joseph teasing Pedro about turning to mush the second you fell asleep on him. Connie calling you “the most disgustingly smitten couple on water.”

And every time it came up in interviews, Pedro would laugh. Blush, maybe. Pretend to wave it off. But he never denied a thing.

Not once.

And neither did you.

——

A few months later you were standing in the hotel room, shared with Pedro, getting ready for the London premiere. Of course, you’ve been to red carpets and premieres before, but this one was different. It wasn’t only your movie or his, it was a movie where you both played big roles.

You were looking at yourself in the mirror. You were wearing a black dress with some red details which clung to you perfectly, highlighting the curves of your body. You choose a natural makeup, not wanting to push it too far.

You were just fixing the straps of the dress when Pedro came out of the bathroom. And when you saw him in the mirror you had to take a double look.

The black shirt clung to him like it was made just for him, the V-neck showing the slight dip of his solid chest, making you go feral. The little red pins on his shoulder emphasizing him, but just enough to not stole the spotlight, and the black slacks he was wearing completely tailored for him. His hair was styled perfectly, some silver strands showing and shining in their place.

You turned around and looked at him with admiration in your eyes. He looked like one of those old statues, like a God, who fell from heaven.

“You good?” you ask quietly.

He nods, but it’s a lie.

You know that look. You’ve seen it at events before—press junkets, big tables—when the crowd is too loud and the stakes too high. When the world expects Pedro Pascal to be Pedro Pascal, and some part of him just wants to disappear.

“I will be,” he says.

You walk to him in heels that click softly on marble, stopping close enough to smell the cedar in his cologne and the faint trace of peppermint on his breath.

Your fingers brush the edge of his lapel, straightening it, pretending it needs fixing. “You look ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously handsome or ridiculously nervous?”

You raise an eyebrow.

He huffs a soft laugh through his nose and looks down. “I hate these things.”

“I know.”

“You make them better.”

Your hand slides gently down his chest, lingering over his sternum, right where his heartbeat stutters beneath your touch.

“I’ll be close the whole time.”

He meets your gaze, and the rawness there almost undoes you.

You kiss his cheek. Not the kind that means I love you. The kind that says I know who you are when no one’s looking.

——

The car ride over is quiet.

The city glows wet and golden through the tinted windows — streetlamps like fireflies, crowds already pressing against barricades. You sit with your hands in your lap, and his are resting just inches from yours on the seat, his knee occasionally brushing yours when the car turns.

You don’t speak.

He closes his eyes once, briefly. You reach over without thinking and slide your pinkie around his, just for a second. He exhales.

The carpet is blinding.

A river of flashing lights and calling voices, umbrellas twirling in the crowd, velvet ropes separating fans from stars. You feel the heat of cameras, the electric buzz of names being shouted, the press’s hunger for something worth posting.

You both step out, not quite together.

Pedro takes a moment to square his shoulders. He looks calm again — perfectly composed — but you feel the shift.

You walk a few paces behind, giving the illusion of independence. Of separation. It's part of the game.

Until the angle shifts.

Until the interviewer from Vanity Fair — the one who asked that question last time — waves you both over.

You settle beside him. Close, but not touching.

He glances down at you, voice low enough that it’s lost in the noise: “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.”

The interview starts light. Jokes. Banter. You’re both good at that. Your timing fits like puzzle pieces — his sarcasm soft and dry, yours sharp and playful. You toss each other softballs, grin at the same questions, answer with that carefully rehearsed mix of camaraderie and mystery.

But then the question shifts.

“What was the most surprising part of working together on this film?”

Pedro looks at you.

Really looks.

And the pause stretches longer than it should.

You meet his gaze and offer the smallest, almost imperceptible nod.

He speaks slowly. Thoughtfully. “I think… the way she carried so much of the weight. Quietly. The emotion she brings—it changes the air around her. I think I forgot how to breathe sometimes.”

The interviewer laughs lightly, not sure if he’s joking.

But he’s not.

You don’t say anything. Just smile—soft, knowing—and step slightly closer. Not enough to raise eyebrows. But enough for him to feel your arm brush his as you walk away from the mic.

He doesn’t let the distance open up again.

You glide through the rest of the carpet like two satellites orbiting the same star. Separate in appearance, but always pulled toward each other when no one’s looking.

When the cameras shift.

When the lights tilt.

And later—when the lights go down inside the theater and the film begins—his fingers find yours in the dark. Silently. Desperately.

You hold on tight.

Because this is how you survive the noise.

Together.

——

You don't even remember crossing the room. One moment he's teasing you about the shirt, about the way you were staring, and the next you’re walking backward as he follows, one slow step at a time, his eyes locked on yours like you’re the only thing that exists. The soft click of the door sealing shut behind him feels like it closes off the entire world.

The low hum of London still murmurs outside the tall windows, but in here, it’s all dark wood and soft light and the quiet intensity in his gaze.

Pedro doesn't say another word at first. He just watches you with that look—the one that makes your breath catch low in your throat. The one that says he’s seen every part of you and still wants more.

He stands there in that damn shirt, collar open, sleeves rolled just enough to show his forearms. The contrast of the crimson buttons against the dark fabric makes him look sharper somehow, more dangerous. Like he’s the one pulling every invisible string in the room.

And maybe he is.

You shift slightly under the weight of his silence, heat rising behind your ribs. You open your mouth to say something—maybe a joke, maybe nothing at all—but you never get the chance.

He steps in.

His hand curves around your jaw with practiced ease, not rough, not rushed—just firm. Sure. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, slow and deliberate.

"You have any idea how hard it was not to touch you all night?” he murmurs, voice low, thick with restraint. “You, standing next to me in that dress, smiling like that…"

You try to respond, but he’s already kissing you, slow and hot, the kind that robs the breath right out of your lungs. His mouth moves with intent, just enough pressure to make your head spin. He doesn't waste time—his hands are already sliding down your back, finding the zipper, and when he breaks the kiss it’s only to speak against your skin.

“You wore that for me, didn’t you?” he asks, lips brushing your throat. “Knowing I couldn’t do a damn thing about it until we got here.”

Your answer is a shaky inhale. You feel his smirk as he pulls the zipper down, one slow inch at a time.

“I should make you beg for it,” he says, still behind you now, his breath against your neck. “After the way you looked at me all night. Like you knew what you were doing.”

You tilt your head, letting him push the dress from your shoulders. It pools at your feet like a sigh.

“I did know,” you whisper.

Pedro chuckles, low and dark, and his hands are on your hips now—pulling you back against him. You can feel him already, hard through his trousers, and the sound that slips from your mouth makes him groan.

“Then don’t pretend you’re not going to let me have you exactly how I want,” he mutters, one hand skimming up your stomach, the other sliding between your thighs.

His fingers slip beneath the fabric of your underwear, teasing you with maddening patience. Just the graze of his knuckles, slow and purposeful, as if he has all night to unmake you.

"Already wet," he murmurs against the shell of your ear, his voice thick and approving. "You like it when I talk to you like that, don’t you?"

You nod, but he doesn’t let that slide.

"Use your words, cariño," he says, his tone darkening just enough to make you shiver. "You know I want to hear it."

"Yes," you breathe, barely holding on. "I like it… I like when you talk to me like that."

He rewards your honesty with a low growl and two fingers slipping through your slick heat—slow, precise, stroking you just enough to make your knees go weak. His free arm wraps around your waist to steady you, holding you flush to his chest like he’s claiming you in the quiet of this high-rise hotel room.

"You’ve been driving me fucking crazy for weeks," he mutters. "These press tours, pretending we’re just friends. Watching you laugh with the others like you don’t crawl into my bed every night."

His words hit you low in your belly, the possessiveness curling into arousal as his fingers begin to move in earnest—deep, steady, controlled. You moan into the air, unable to keep quiet, and that only spurs him on. He bites gently at your shoulder, his grip tightening just enough to make you gasp.

"Think they know?" he asks against your skin. "Think they’d still see you as sweet if they knew how you sound when I make you come?"

The words drag another helpless sound from your lips. You press back against him, needing more—needing all of him—but he still doesn’t give it. Not yet.

Instead, he pulls his hand away, and before you can beg, he turns you around and kisses you hard—mouth greedy, tongue insistent, as if he's trying to taste every sound you’ve ever made for him.

"Bed," he says roughly, guiding you backward without looking. His hands are already unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it off like it’s nothing, like he isn’t the best-looking man you’ve ever seen with his skin flushed and jaw tense and eyes dark.

You’re still in nothing but your underwear when the backs of your knees hit the mattress. Pedro follows you down, catching your mouth again before trailing kisses to your collarbone, your chest, licking a slow path between your breasts as he peels the last scrap of fabric from your body.

“You’re mine tonight,” he says, looking up at you from between your thighs with something between reverence and hunger. “And I’m going to make sure you feel it tomorrow when we’re pretending again.”

Then his mouth is on you.

Hot, unrelenting, skilled. He devours you like a man starved, moaning softly against you, like your taste is better than anything the night could offer. His tongue flicks, circles, dives—he doesn’t give you time to adjust, doesn’t give you space to breathe. Just pleasure, building faster than you can process.

You cry out, your hands tangling in his hair, your thighs tightening around his head—but he doesn’t let up. Not until you’re trembling, choking on your own gasps, your orgasm crashing over you with brutal, blinding force.

Only then does he rise, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, gaze locked on you like he’s not nearly done.

“You still with me?” he asks, voice rough.

You nod, dazed, still panting.

“Good,” he says, undoing his belt with one smooth pull. “Because I’m not finished with you yet.”

You watch him strip the rest of the way, every inch of him revealed in the golden lamplight. His chest rising and falling with quiet tension, his hands still clenched like he’s barely holding himself back.

You sit up slightly on your elbows, eyes trailing over the defined lines of his torso, the heat that rolls off him. His gaze finds yours as he comes forward, slow and purposeful.

“You gonna lay there lookin’ at me like that,” he says lowly, “or are you gonna get up on your knees like a good girl?”

The words hit you like a spark to dry kindling.

You move, heart pounding, turning onto your hands and knees in the center of the bed as he comes behind you. You feel the mattress dip under his weight, feel his warm palm drag slowly down your back, his fingers tracing your spine with almost-too-gentle pressure. Then his hand grips your hip firmly, pulling you back, adjusting your angle like he’s positioning you exactly how he wants.

“You know how beautiful you look like this?” he murmurs, voice ragged. “How good you are for me?”

You start to say something—anything—but then you feel him against you, thick and hard, sliding along your folds without pushing in. Teasing.

You whimper, push back slightly, silently begging, and he chuckles behind you.

“Desperate now?” he says, leaning over your back, his mouth warm against your ear. “I warned you, didn’t I? You show up in that dress and expect me to behave?”

And then—finally—he pushes into you.

A long, slow thrust that fills you completely, taking his time so you feel every inch. Your hands twist in the sheets, a broken sound tumbling from your lips.

“Fuck,” Pedro groans behind you, grip tightening on your hips. “You’re perfect—always so fuckin’ tight for me.”

He pulls out just enough to make you ache before thrusting in again—deeper this time, more force behind it. His pace builds gradually, controlled but hungry, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing through the quiet room.

You arch your back, moaning with every stroke, and his hand slides up to the back of your neck, holding you gently but firmly in place. Not hurting—just anchoring you. Letting you know exactly who’s in control.

"You take me so well," he growls, hips snapping harder now. “Every fuckin’ time.”

His other hand slides down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit with practiced ease, circling in rhythm with his thrusts. It’s too much and not enough, your body strung tight between the way he’s fucking you and the words spilling from his mouth—rough, reverent, utterly unfiltered.

You can feel your second orgasm rising sharp and fast, your body clenching around him, and he knows. He always knows.

“That’s it,” he murmurs through gritted teeth. “Come for me. Let me feel you.”

You do—helpless and loud and shaking apart beneath him as he rides you through it, his rhythm never faltering. He fucks you through the waves until your legs give out and your arms collapse beneath you, face pressing into the mattress.

Pedro slows just enough to pull you back upright, wrapping one arm around your waist and dragging your body against his chest as he thrusts up into you from behind, now deeper, rougher, needier.

His mouth finds your neck again, his voice broken with restraint.

“Gonna fill you up,” he pants. “Fuck, I’m so close—wanna come inside you, baby.”

You nod, gasping, grinding back against him.

“Please,” you manage. “Want it… want you to—”

And with a deep, guttural groan, Pedro buries himself to the hilt, his whole body tightening as he comes hard inside you, holding you there, letting you feel every pulsing wave of it.

You both collapse onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and sweat and breathless sounds. His arms curl around you as you come down, his hand sliding up your stomach, holding you close like the world outside the room doesn’t exist.

You can still feel the press of him inside you, warm and full, and the slow kiss he plants behind your ear is a silent promise—one that says this isn’t just about lust or need.

It’s him. It's you. It’s always been more than what anyone sees at a premiere.

[avonsdrabbles]

The most significant lesson I ever received in Literature classes was that everything is actually about abortion.

My regular teacher was out for the day, so the “this guy works here but nobody quite knows what he’s supposed to do” substitute was in for her. His name was Mr. Moony. I suspect, knowing more now, that Mr. Moony was the special education coordinator for gifted and talented students. But that’s all besides the point.

The only thing that mattered about Mr. Moony for this story is that every student knew you never learned anything when he was in, because he was always batshit insane. He would completely disregard plans, throw them away, and tell us to do something different.

When he came in, we had just finished reading Waiting for Godot. We were well on our way to an AP Lit exam, tired and worried, and we had a practice essay coming up based on this play. And he said, “you’re all burnt the hell out, so I’m going to write an essay for you.” We all cheered because, hell yes, a lecture day. We didn’t have to do shit. We could all tune out and stop caring.

And then he started going.

We were enraptured. This man deconstructed the two act play into a masterpiece, quoting ancient literature on theology and God, as well as personal details about the author, to reveal to us all that, actually, Waiting for Godot was the author’s roundabout way to show the anguish behind the politics of the pro-life/anti-choice movements, and the author’s criticisms of abortion.

He went on for a half hour, writing faster than we could really keep up with. By the end of his rant, we were all nodding along. At the end, he slammed his hand on the board and shouted “ABORTION” to really make his point.

“So, do you all think that’s what this story is about?”

The majority of us nodded, myself included. And this man looked at us, scrunched his face like Kermit the Fucking Frog, and went, “no the fuck it’s not. I made all that up.”

There was a beat of everyone feeling like their time was wasted. Some students very frustrated because they were trying to take notes and just realized it all was fabricated. One or two who were angry about being woken up to him shouting abortion.

And then he looked at us. “How many of you only believe it’s about abortion because that’s what I just told you to think?”

Quite a few raised their hands.

“Then I did English good.”

The rest of the time of class was spent with him teaching us various styles of analysis, though sadly my amnesia has claimed most of this part from me. I remember my belief in English being entirely shaken at this point. But at the same time, I also got what he was saying, and it opened my eyes to new things.

There is no right answer in literary analysis. There’s just answers people want to hear, or answers that are compelling, or answers that aren’t those things. The answer that Waiting for Godot was about abortion was not something all of us wanted to hear, but he made the answer sound compelling — and so we were riveted.

My next essay I wrote for that class was about the setting of the play, and how the entirety of Waiting for Godot centers on the anxieties of losing the modern family — and even modern life as we know it — to technology, and via that idea, the climate crisis.

I got a 100%. My teacher highlighted my (thankfully anonymous to the class) essay, particularly because the first sentence was “compelling,” due to my absence of proper grammar rules; I’d started it off by just saying, “trees.”

That was the day I really knew I loved English — not just enjoyed reading and writing, but genuine love of playing with the language. And it’s this love that I try to instill into my students.

The biggest misconception in public schools is that literary analysis is about proving you can be right or wrong about a book you read

Literary analysis isn’t about the book

It’s not even about being right

It’s about performing an investigation and presenting your case to the jury

It doesn’t matter if your defendant killed that guy or not. If you can convince the jury he didn’t, you’ve won

And the incredible life skill of spinning bulletproof bullshit out your ass with a handful of facts and a prayer is soooooooo much more valuable than anyone’s ever gonna tell you

[himasgod]

HI :) can I request a Leona x reader where the reader is used to being like the second choice and just assume that they are last pick or something sorry if it doesn’t make sense:)

LEONA X READER

Where you are used to being the second choice

How would Leona react if he saw that you were isolating yourself from people by thinking that you will always be the second choice?

You didn’t think much of it when your boyfriend didn’t sit next to you at lunch.

He didn’t say anything—just sauntered in, eyes half-lidded like he hadn’t slept a wink (you were pretty sure he hadn’t), and dropped himself beside Ruggie. The table was full today, and with no open seat beside you, you just smiled to yourself and poked at your food. It was fine.

You were used to it.

Being the afterthought.

Being the one people settled for when their first option wasn’t available.

"Hey, herbivore. Why didn’t you come to the Spelldrive training field yesterday?”

You glanced up from your food, blinking. Leona was standing above you, arms crossed like he was annoyed—but you could see the faint crease between his brows.

Worried, maybe. Just a little.

“Oh,” you said, brushing it off. “I figured you had plenty of people to spar with already.”

His frown deepened. “I asked you to come.”

“Yeah, but Epel and Ruggie were there, right? You don’t need me.”

“Didn’t ask if I needed you.”

You blinked. That…wasn’t the kind of thing Leona usually said. You looked back down at your food to hide the way your throat tightened.

“I don’t mind, really,” you said, keeping your voice casual. “I’m not the type people wait around for.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Leona crouched down in front of you. His green eyes were sharp now, focused.

“Tch. Don’t give me that crap.”

You startled. “What—?”

“You always say things like that. ‘It’s fine.’ ‘Don’t worry about it.’ ‘I don’t mind.’ Like you’re just… used to being overlooked.”

You tried to smile again, because smiling made things easier.

“Well, I kind of am.”

Leona's ears flicked, and you saw something shift in his expression. Something serious. Angry—but not at you.

“You think I’d waste my time chasing someone I don’t care about?” he said, low. “You think I’d ask you—not anyone else—if I didn’t want you there?”

You didn’t answer, so he leaned closer, until his shadow cast over you.

“Stop acting like you’re someone I settled for. You’re not last pick, Yuu. Not to me.”

Your throat closed up. The notebook in your lap blurred.

“…Then why don’t you ever say anything like this?” you whispered.

He sighed, frustrated at himself this time. “Because I thought you already knew.”

You gave a watery laugh. “That’s not how it works, Leona.”

He stared at you for a long moment, then sat down beside you, shoulder brushing yours. He didn’t say anything for a while. Just sat there, letting the silence rest between you like a blanket.

“…I’ll start saying it,” he said finally. “Even if you don’t ask.”

Your hand brushed against his. Slowly, you let it rest there.

“Okay,” you whispered.

And he stayed.

[screaminglygay]

Welcome back

pairing: past!natasha romanoff x reader, wanda maximoff x reader

summary: you're back at the avengers compound - finally building a life of peace with wanda. but the past doesn't rest easily. natasha's bitterness rises the moment she sees you, and the tension finally boils over in a brutal confrontation. as old wounds reopen, wanda begins to spiral in her own doubts, just as you’re both finding happiness together.

warnings: angst!, emotional conflict, swearing, harsh words, jealousy, overthinking, unresolved tension, natasha being bitter, light smut, teasing, Pietro walking in on you, minor miscommunication, hurt feelings

word count: 11.8k

an: this was such a fun request to write, honestly had the best time diving into all the angst and messy emotions in this part:D thank you so much for all the love and support for this mini-series!<3

part one I part two I part three

You sat on your couch, your phone in your hand, staring at Fury’s contact like it might explode. It had been a while since you’d spoken to him like this… actually wanting something instead of turning him down.

But damn it, Wanda had gotten into your head. With a deep breath, you pressed the call button. Fury picked up on the second ring.

"Well, this is a surprise," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "To what do I owe the honor?"

You leaned back, exhaling, "I want to come back. But only as a trainer. Just the agents. No more, no less. And I want a normal schedule."

Silence.

Then, in that signature deadpan tone, Fury said, "Wouldn’t you like a Porsche with that too?"

You rolled your eyes, "I’m serious."

"So am I." Another pause. "See you at the usual time on Monday. And say thanks to Maximoff for me."

Your brows furrowed, "why?"

"For making up your mind." That made you sit up straight. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice before he hung up. You stared at your phone, everything clicking into place.

That sneaky little-

A knock at your door made you snap your head up. Right on time. When you swung the door open, Wanda stood there, looking as soft and lovely as ever, but you wasted no time.

"I know what you did," you said, crossing your arms. "Nice work."

She blinked, "what?"

"Sneaky little thing," you squinted at her.

Her lips curled into an amused smile, tilting her head. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

You stepped closer, leaning against the doorframe. "You’ve been playing the long game, haven’t you? Slowly getting in my head, dropping hints, making sure I’d call Fury on my own."

Wanda batted her lashes, "that’s absurd. I would never manipulate you like that."

You scoffed, "uh-huh. Right."

She grinned, stepping inside and letting her fingers trace up your arms. "I prefer the term… persuasive."

You shivered slightly at her touch, but you kept your composure. "Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?"

"Mm-hmm." She leaned in, her breath warm against your skin. "And are you mad about it?"

You sighed, feigning exasperation. "No, because it worked. I called Fury."

Wanda’s eyes lit up, and a proud smile spread across her face, "I knew you would."

You let out a soft laugh against her lips, "of course."

…

The morning felt heavier than it should have. You were sitting at the small dining table, mindlessly swirling your spoon in your cereal, staring at nothing in particular. Wanda, sitting across from you, noticed immediately.

"Alright," she said, setting down her coffee. "What’s up?"

You blinked out of your daze, "what?"

"You’re thinking way too loud." She tilted her head, amused. "First-day jitters?"

You exhaled, rubbing the back of your neck. "Now that I really think about it… isn’t it weird to just… go back?"

Wanda arched a brow. "Are you asking because of work? Or because of Natasha?"

Your lips parted, then closed again. "No… work of course not-" You hesitated. "Or… maybe both. I don’t know." You sighed, setting your spoon down. "It’s just… she’s there. It’s her place. And I’m just gonna waltz in like nothing happened?"

Wanda reached across the table, her fingers brushing against yours. "I get it," she said softly. "But she’s not the only one there, and besides… Natasha mostly does Avengers missions now. She trains sometimes, sure, but Steve and Maria handle most of it. She’s barely in the training areas anymore."

That made you pause, "oh, okay."

Some of the weight in your chest lightened, but not all of it. Because now that your brain had gone down that road, something else came to mind.

Maria Hill. She was still there too.

You hadn’t really thought about her in a while, but the realization hit you now. Unlike with Natasha, there wasn’t anger, just… weird emotions. Undefined, but definitely there.

Wanda watched your face carefully, reading you like a book. "You just thought of someone else, didn’t you?"

You sighed, "Maria."

Wanda nodded, like she expected that. "You don’t have to interact with her if you don’t want to." And once again, she didn´t asked much, she just understood.

You chewed the inside of your cheek. "I know. It’s just… strange. Like stepping back into a past life I wasn’t sure I’d ever return to."

Wanda squeezed your hand. "It’s not a past life. It’s just another part of your story. And you’re walking in on your terms now."

You looked at her, taking in the warmth in her gaze. The unwavering belief in you.

It helped.

You took a deep breath and straightened your shoulders. "Yeah. My terms."

Wanda grinned, "exactly." Then she smirked, nudging your foot under the table. "And if you ever get too in your head about it… just remember that you’re probably going to out-train half of them."

You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head, "oh, yeah."

...

As you walked alongside Wanda toward the training center, your steps felt steady, but there was still that lingering unease. You glanced over at Wanda, who kept her pace casual, her eyes scanning the surroundings as if she were used to this space in a way that made you both feel comfortable and out of place all at once.

"So," Wanda broke the silence, her voice light but teasing, "what´s the first move?"

You hummed, "I´ll probably just test the waters, make sure where everyone stands, you know?"

Wanda smiled softly, nudging your shoulder with hers. "You’ll do fine. You’ve trained worse, right?"

You smirked, remembering the sheer chaos of trying to teach people who were barely able to say please and thank you. "Definitely. But this feels different. It’s been a while."

She smiled at you, but it softened into something more understanding. "Just remember why you’re here."

You nodded as you reached the entrance to the training area. The doors slid open, and you stopped just inside, feeling the buzz of energy from the group of agents waiting for you. They were ready, dressed in full tactical gear, standing in neat lines, some eyes bright with anticipation, others with a little more uncertainty.

"Alright," Wanda said, giving you a quick hug. "I’ll leave you to it. Do your thing. You’ve got this."

"Thanks, Wan," you said, returning her hug before stepping into the training space fully. She gave you a quick wave before walking away to attend to her own duties, leaving you standing in front of twenty very eager agents.

But now you realized… that you actually don´t know why are you here. But fake it till you make it, right? Once again, starting with a good tactic.

"Alright, listen up!" you called, your voice carrying easily across the room. "For those of you who don’t know me, I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and I’m your main trainer from now on. I’ll be pushing you all to your limits, and I expect the same in return. There will be no slacking off, no cutting corners. I’ve seen it all, and I’ll make sure you all earn every skill you walk out of here with."

You paused for a moment, watching their faces. There was a mixture of nervousness and excitement. You could see it, feel it… the anticipation was almost palpable.

"Now, today isn’t about perfection. It’s about seeing where you all stand." You motioned to the space around you. "We’re going to start with some basic drills to test your skill level and determine what you can do and what needs improvement. This isn’t a competition, it’s a learning experience. I need you all to give it your best, and I’ll be here to guide you."

Without further explanation, you had them start with a basic hand-to-hand combat drill, followed by agility and endurance exercises. As you moved from agent to agent, it quickly became clear that while there were a few standouts, most of them were still rough around the edges. Some couldn’t hold their stance correctly, others lacked the proper timing, and a couple couldn’t land a clean hit to save their lives.

You found yourself mentally noting where each one needed work, but the surprise was in how eager they all were. They were soaking in every bit of feedback, pushing themselves as hard as they could. It was refreshing.

As the last round of drills ended, you were about to offer some closing advice when you heard the familiar footsteps approaching. "Looks like you haven’t lost your touch," a voice drawled from behind you.

You turned around, your eyes narrowing in recognition. "Fury," you said, crossing your arms. "I should have known."

"You’re doing great," Fury said, his tone casual, though there was a hint of pride underneath. "I knew you’d pull this off."

You raised an eyebrow, your hands resting on your hips. "You’ve been watching me again, haven’t you?"

Fury didn’t miss a beat. "Needed to make sure you’d do your job right." He paused, glancing at the group of agents still catching their breath. "And it seems like you’ve done exactly that."

You snorted, shaking your head, "some things never change."

Fury chuckled, his lips pulling into a tight smile. "Hm. Just making sure the job gets done. You’ll always be the best at what you do."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. "Well, it’s nice to know you still have faith in me."

"Faith?" Fury raised an eyebrow. "I don’t need faith. I just need results." He gave you a meaningful glance. "And you always deliver. Just no more relationship issues, okay?"

You nodded, "yes sir," feeling that familiar mix of nerves and determination build in your chest. It wasn’t just about training these agents - it was about proving to yourself.

After you cleaned up, making sure the mats were properly set, the equipment put away, and everything was in order for the next session. It felt strangely familiar, like a routine you hadn’t even realized you missed. By the time you left the training center, the halls were quieter, the rush of the day settling into something calmer.

You took a quick shower in the locker rooms, letting the warm water ease the tension in your muscles. It wasn’t until you were making your way toward the main hall that you ran into Natasha. She looked just as surprised to see you as you were to run into her. She stopped mid-step, her green eyes scanning you, like she was trying to make sure you were really standing there.

"So," she finally said, crossing her arms, her voice casual, but you could hear the underlying curiosity. "You’re the new trainer, huh?"

You hesitated just slightly before nodding, "yeah…"

Natasha tilted her head, glancing over you like she was taking in the fact that you were really back. "What did you put them through today?"

"Basic drills, endurance, hand-to-hand. Just getting a feel for what they can do."

She nodded, "and?"

"They’ve got potential," you admitted. "But they’re nowhere near ready for fieldwork."

"Sounds about right," Natasha smirked at that.

There was a moment of silence between you, comfortable, but with something beneath it. Something unspoken. You shifted slightly, feeling the weight of it settle in.

"Listen, Nat," you said, glancing at her, "if this is weird for you… I can, you know-"

Natasha cut you off before you could finish. "Don’t worry about me." Her voice was steady, maybe too steady. "You said it yourself, it’s been some time, so…" she shrugged, like it was no big deal. But the way she averted her gaze for just a second, the way her fingers twitched slightly against her arm… it was a lie.

You pressed your lips together, not sure what to say to that. There was a weird awkwardness between you now, lingering in the air. It was strange - once, things between you and Natasha had been easy, natural. Now, it felt like walking on unsteady ground, both of you pretending you weren’t paying attention to the cracks beneath your feet.

You cleared your throat, rubbing the back of your neck. "I uh- I should go. You know, back to the good old paperwork," you joked, forcing a small grin.

Natasha gave you a tight-lipped smile in return. "Have fun with that."

You nodded, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before turning and walking away. Even as you left, you could feel Natasha’s gaze lingering on you, the weight of something left unsaid pressing against your back.

Wanda found you not long after your awkward run-in with Natasha, leaning against the wall outside the training center, looking at your phone like you were trying to distract yourself. She didn’t say anything at first, just reached out, took your wrist, and started pulling you along with her. "Come on," she said, a knowing little smile on her lips. "You’re having lunch with me today."

You let out a soft chuckle but didn’t resist, letting Wanda lead you through the hallways of the compound. "Where are we going?" you asked.

"The Avengers’ living room," Wanda said simply, glancing at you with a smirk. "I’m making lunch, and you’re helping."

"Oh, am I?" You raised a brow.

"Yes," she said it like it was a fact of the universe.

By the time you reached the living space, the scent of spices and something warm was already filling the air. It was cozy in here, unlike the rest of the sleek, professional compound.

Wanda pulled you toward the kitchen, rolling up her sleeves before looking at you expectantly. "So," she started as she grabbed some ingredients from the counter, "how was your first day?"

You exhaled, leaning against the counter. "It was… good. Really good, actually." You couldn’t hide the way your face lit up. "The agents are eager to learn, which is nice. And even though I was just testing everything, I already have so many ideas on how to make the training better."

Wanda watched you with a small, fond smile as you rambled, hands animated as you explained how you set up drills and how the rookies needed to work on their stance. She could see it, you were shining, excitement radiating off you in a way that made her chest warm.

"I haven’t seen you this happy about something in a while," she murmured, reaching for the cutting board.

You paused for a second, processing her words. Then you gave a small nod. "Yeah… I think I really like it here, I mean it´s a first day, but I have really good feeling."

Wanda’s smile grew as she turned to you, placing a knife in your hand. "Good. Now help me chop these, since you’re so full of energy."

You laughed, shaking your head but complying. The two of you worked side by side, moving around the kitchen with ease. Wanda gave you instructions, but half the time, she was just teasing you, nudging you with her hip when you reached for the same thing, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear when it got in your face.

At one point, you handed her a spoon to stir the pot, and she hummed in satisfaction. "You know," she said, stirring slowly, "I think I should be given more credit."

You raised a brow, "for what?"

"For being very persuasive," she smirked. "I get what I want, after all."

You narrowed your eyes at her playfully. "Are you talking about getting me to come back here?"

She hummed, tilting her head, "maybe."

You let out a laugh, "well, you sneaky little thing, you have all the credit."

Wanda just grinned, leaning a little closer, her voice dropping into something softer, "hmm, I´ll take all the credit later, don´t worry."

You swallowed, heart skipping a little at the way she was looking at you. Lord help you. "Just focus on cooking, Maximoff," you muttered, nudging her away with your hip.

"I can multitask," she kissed your cheek quickly.

You smirked, setting the knife down and turning to Wanda with an amused look. "Oh, can you, hm?" you murmured, leaning in just a little, close enough that your breath ghosted against her skin.

Wanda blinked, her teasing smirk faltering for just a second before she composed herself. "Mhm," she hummed, tilting her chin slightly, feigning confidence. "I always do."

You let your fingers brush against her wrist as you leaned in a fraction closer, "is that so?"

Wanda swallowed, her eyes flickering to your lips before she smirked. And just when you thought you had the upper hand, she moved, her hands settling on your waist as she turned the tables. "You think you can win this game?" she murmured, voice low.

Your breath hitched, your plan backfiring spectacularly. "I-"

"You're cute when you try," Wanda whispered before pressing a soft, lingering kiss against the side of your neck.

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the warmth of her lips linger. "Wanda-"

"Hm?" She hummed innocently, her lips brushing against your skin again, sending a shiver down your spine.

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head, "I don't need to read your mind to know what you want, Wan."

Wanda smirked against your neck. "Then what am I thinking right now? What do I need?" she murmured, pressing another teasing kiss just below your jaw.

Your fingers tightened around the counter as you tried to gather your thoughts. "You're thinking… that if you keep this up, I'm going to burn our lunch."

Wanda pulled back just enough to look at you, her grin mischievous. "Oh, that would be tragic."

"Yeah, tragic," you deadpanned, though your pulse was still racing.

She chuckled before finally stepping back, giving you just enough space to breathe again. But the knowing look in her eyes told you she was more than pleased with herself. "Alright, alright," she said, grabbing the spoon again. "Let’s focus. Lunch first. I wouldn’t want to distract you too much."

You narrowed your eyes playfully, grabbing a towel and snapping it lightly at her hip. "Too late for that."

Wanda just giggled, completely unbothered, as she continued stirring the pot. "Maybe you should work on your focus, then," she teased.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t wipe the grin off your face. Flirty Wanda was dangerous, but you had to admit, you didn’t mind one bit. It´s the actual opposite.

As you finished plating the food, Wanda grinned, running a finger along the edge of the counter before turning to you with a smirk. "You listened so well," she murmured, her voice dropping into something softer, something very dangerous. She took a step closer, her hands pressing against the counter on either side of you, effectively trapping you in. "Now look what we made. I´m so proud of us, malysh."

Your breath hitched as you looked up at her. She was too close. Her lips, her eyes, the teasing glint in them, god it was all too much. "Wanda-"

But before you could say anything else, she leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. You melted instantly, your hands gripping the counter behind you as her lips moved against yours, soft and warm, making your heart hammer against your ribs.

Her fingers brushed against your waist, and you could feel her smirk against your lips as she deepened the kiss, her body pressing against yours just enough to make your head spin-

"Ah, well, I was going to ask what’s for lunch, but I see you’re already having (Y/N)."

You practically jumped out of your skin, tearing away from Wanda with wide eyes.

"Pietro!" Wanda groaned, her forehead dropping against your shoulder as she shook with laughter.

You, on the other hand, felt your entire body heat up. "I- we were just-" You cleared your throat, your brain scrambling for something - anything - to say. "We have, um… a gou-lash?"

Pietro arched an eyebrow, looking vaguely unimpressed. "A gou-lash?" he repeated, clearly biting back laughter at the way you pronounced it.

Wanda, to her credit, just nodded, her lips twitching as she leaned against the counter with a smug smirk. "Yes. A delicious goulash."

You shot her a glare, but it was weak at best.

Pietro hummed, pretending to consider it. "Ah, great," he said before grabbing some plates and heading to the table. "Steve and Bucky are coming in a minute. Clint and Bruce, too. The rest are busy with work."

You exhaled, trying to regain your composure as you picked up a dish. Wanda, however, was still grinning like she won something.

"Don’t," you whispered as you passed by her.

"Don’t what?" she asked, voice all faux innocence.

You narrowed your eyes. "Just… don’t."

She only laughed, stealing a quick peck on your cheek before sauntering off to help Pietro with the table.

Lord have mercy.

Lunch was lively, the sound of utensils clinking against plates mingling with casual conversation. Your goulash was a success, despite Pietro’s teasing.

As you took another bite, Steve turned to you with an easy smile. "You know, I was thinking, I’d love to work with you on training the agents. I handle a lot of the physical assessments, but having someone like you around? It would make a real difference."

Your eyes widened slightly in excitement, setting your fork down. "That would be amazing! I already have so many ideas… drills, scenarios, real-world application stuff. Honestly, I’d love to collaborate with you on it."

Steve nodded approvingly. "That’s exactly what we need, someone who knows how the field works, not just textbook tactics."

Bucky, who had been quietly eating next to him, suddenly chimed in. "You should also focus on instinct training. A lot of rookies freeze up in real combat. They overthink instead of reacting."

You turned to him, eyes lighting up, "oh wow, yeah, that’s amazing, James-"

The entire table burst into laughter, and you blinked, confused for a moment before Bucky sighed, shaking his head, "Bucky is fine."

A smirk pulled at your lips. "Well, Bucky," you corrected with emphasis, "I think it would be nice to have a Sergeant show the recruits some moves. I mean, who better to train them than someone with actual battlefield experience?"

Steve chuckled, "I second that."

Bucky huffed, but you caught the amused glint in his eye. "Fine, but don’t expect me to give motivational speeches like Rogers."

"Damn, I was looking forward to those." You grinned, taking another bite of your food.

Across the table, Wanda was watching you, her expression soft and proud. She could see how seamlessly you were fitting in, how the team was warming up to you, and it made her happy, really happy.

She reached under the table, giving your knee a small squeeze. When you glanced at her, she simply smiled, her eyes twinkling with warmth.

You weren’t just back, you were glowing.

You hummed softly to yourself as you gathered the empty plates, stacking them with ease before moving toward the sink. The others had already started to clear out, leaving you to tidy up without much thought. And even though Tony has like dishwasher 3000, that even sings you a song, you like to just wash it in your hands, since it´s few plates.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve and Wanda lingered at the table, their voices hushed. Steve glanced at you briefly before turning back to Wanda. "Good call," he said simply.

Wanda tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

Steve gave her a knowing look, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Bringing her back. I like seeing agent work like this."

Wanda looked down for a moment, fingers idly tracing the rim of her glass. Then, softly, she admitted, "It’s nice, you know? To see her be happy… truly happy."

Steve nodded, but his expression held something, that Wanda couldn’t quite place until he spoke again. "I don’t think you really believe that," he said.

She frowned slightly, "what do you mean?"

"She’s not happy because she’s back at work," Steve said, keeping his voice low but firm. "She’s happy because of you, Wanda. It’s not that hard to see."

Wanda blinked, lips parting slightly, as if to refute it, but the words never came.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re the main reason she’s happy. I might not know her as well as you do, but even I can tell. And it´s funny that someone with the ability to read someone´s mind, can´t see that."

Wanda let out a small breath, her gaze drifting to you as you washed the dishes, completely unaware of their conversation. There was a softness in her eyes, the kind that only came when looking at something precious.

Steve gave Wanda one last knowing smile before pushing his chair back. "Well, I’ll leave you to it," he said, standing up. "Have a good rest of your day, Wanda."

Wanda nodded, still lost in thought for a moment before snapping back to reality. "You too, Steve."

"See you later. Can’t wait for the training!" Steve turned to you as he made his way toward the door.

You looked up from the sink, smiling, "me too, Steve!"

As Steve disappeared down the hall, Wanda finally made her way over to you, her expression practically glowing with warmth. You raised an eyebrow at the soft, dreamy look on her face.

"Are you this satisfied with lunch?" you teased, drying your hands on a towel.

Wanda let out a small laugh, tilting her head, "yeah, very," she said, voice dripping with sweetness, the kind that made your stomach flutter.

You narrowed your eyes playfully, "so you’re looking at me like that because of lunch?"

Wanda just smirked, reaching out to take your hand in hers, "mhm."

Something told you that wasn’t the full truth, but you weren’t complaining if it meant that she will look at you like that. Wanda’s fingers traced lazy circles on the back of your hand as the two of you lingered in the kitchen, neither in a rush to move. Simple moment, just standing close, the warmth of each other filling the small space, but it felt perfect.

You watched her, the way her lips curled into that soft, knowing smile, the way her eyes held nothing but affection. The words were out before you even had the chance to overthink them, "I love you."

Wanda blinked, her breath hitching slightly as her eyes widened in surprise. But the shock melted almost instantly into something even warmer, even softer. She squeezed your hand, "I love you too."

The smile that took over your face was unstoppable, and before you could say anything else, Wanda leaned in, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips. It wasn’t rushed or teasing, just right, like she wanted you to feel the weight of her words.

But of course, the moment couldn’t last forever.

The door creaked open, and a familiar voice broke through the quiet. "Oh- sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be here."

You and Wanda pulled apart just in time to see Natasha standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable.

For a second, silence settled over the room, and the air felt a little heavier than before. Not tense, not necessarily uncomfortable, just… awkward.

Wanda shook her head, "It´s all okay."

You cleared your throat, shifting slightly, "It´s all good."

Natasha nodded once, stepping in just far enough to lean against the counter. "alright." A pause, "you two made lunch?"

"Yeah," Wanda answered smoothly, her usual ease returning in an instant. "There’s still some left if you’re hungry."

Natasha glanced at the covered dishes before shaking her head. "Nah, I’ll grab something later." Her eyes flicked toward you for just a second before she pushed off the counter. "I should- yeah. I’ll see you both around."

And just like that, she was gone, leaving behind nothing but a faint trace of something unspoken. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Wanda gave your hand another squeeze, grounding you.

"She’s even more awkward now," you muttered, running a hand through your hair.

Wanda chuckled softly beside you, reaching out to trace her fingers lightly over your wrist, "that does make sense."

You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow, "how so?"

"She’s figuring things out, just like you are," Wanda said simply, tilting her head slightly.

You exhaled, letting her words sink in. It was true, Natasha wasn’t the type to just say what was on her mind, not when it came to things like this. And honestly? Maybe neither were you.

Wanda nudged you playfully, "just don’t overthink it." You scoffed, shaking your head. "You both overthink things," she added with a teasing smirk, and you couldn’t even argue with that.

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, nudging her back lightly. "I’ll try."

Wanda grinned, "good."

…

The next few weeks passed in a blur of training sessions, late-night talks with Wanda, and getting closer to the rest of the team. It was everything you hadn’t realized you needed - purpose, excitement, and the feeling of belonging.

Training the recruits was honestly fun. Working with Steve was even better than you’d expected, his experience blending well with your own teaching style. Bucky got involved too, his dry humor keeping the sessions light even when he was drilling technique into the agents. The rookies liked you a lot, and Fury? Though he’d never say it outright to others, but he was clearly proud of work.

And then there was Wanda.

She made everything even better. Whether it was sneaking kisses between sessions, teasing you mercilessly when you got competitive during sparring, or just the quiet nights spent in her room at the compound, curled up together after long days. You still mostly stayed at your apartment, but Wanda had a way of making both places feel like home.

Everything felt right.

Except for one thing.

Natasha.

As time went on, she seemed to be pulling away. It wasn’t anything obvious, she was still polite, still professional, still Natasha, but there was distance where there hadn’t been before. Conversations were shorter. Eye contact was rare. She never lingered after team meals or meetings when you were around.

You tried not to think too much about it. Like Wanda had said… you weren’t going to overthink it. So you tried as much as you could. That was until one time… you had asked Steve, Bucky, Wanda, and Natasha to join in, giving the recruits a taste of what it was like to fight against someone better, someone with experience, someone who could expose their weaknesses in seconds.

You had started with Bucky and Natasha, analyzing their tactics, breaking down their footwork and strategies for the agents to learn from. It was controlled, efficient, a perfect example of two highly skilled fighters who knew each other well.

Then it was Steve and Wanda. Watching her use her powers seamlessly in hand-to-hand combat was mesmerizing, and Steve handled it with practiced ease, adapting to her movements, showing the recruits how to counter abilities even when they were at a disadvantage.

And then… Wanda and Natasha.

At first, it was just another sparring match. Quick, sharp movements, testing each other’s defenses, both of them perfectly in control.

Until it wasn’t.

The intensity shifted.

Natasha’s strikes became sharper, her dodges tighter, her attacks more relentless. She wasn’t holding back anymore. Wanda adjusted, countering as best as she could, but Natasha was pressing her, forcing her to react rather than control the fight.

The recruits were quiet, watching with wide eyes.

You felt it before you fully registered it… something was off. Before you could intervene, Steve did. "All right, I think that’s enough," he said, stepping between them before it could escalate further. He kept his tone light, but there was an edge of authority in it. "Good demonstration. That’ll give the recruits something to think about."

You were already moving toward Wanda. "You okay?” you asked softly, searching her face for any signs of real harm.

She blinked, still processing, before nodding, "yeah, I’m fine. Just… didn´t expect that." She laughed it off.

Meanwhile, Natasha grabbed her things and left without another word. Steve hesitated only for a second before going after her. You turned back to Wanda, but Bucky was already there, offering her a water bottle. He gave you a nod, like he had things under control, so you let out a quiet breath and stepped back. You couldn’t focus on anything else. You needed to know what the hell that had been about.

So with soft kiss to Wanda’s forehead before stepping away. "I’ll be right back,” you murmured, squeezing her hand before turning on your heel and walking out of the training center.

No, rushing out.

Your heart was pounding, frustration buzzing beneath your skin as you searched for Natasha. It didn’t take long. You found her in one of the hallways, mid-argument with Steve. His arms were crossed, jaw set tight as Natasha spoke in sharp, clipped words, "I don’t care" she snapped. "It’s not my problem."

Steve exhaled through his nose, clearly trying to keep his patience. "You don’t have to make it one, but you could at least-"

The moment you stepped into view, Steve’s eyes flickered to yours. He sighed, shaking his head, before turning to Natasha, "figure it out," he muttered, then walked away, leaving the two of you alone.

Silence. Then, you broke it. "What the hell is your problem?!"

Natasha barely looked at you, "I don’t have one."

"Bullshit!"

She exhaled, long and slow, like she was forcing herself to stay calm, "just drop it."

"No. No, I won’t drop it, Natasha, because I am so sick of this" your voice wavered with anger, with something deeper, something raw.

"For weeks, you’ve been shutting me out, getting more and more distant, and I let it go. I listened when Wanda told me not to overthink it. But this? That wasn’t just a sparring match back there, and you know it."

Natasha scoffed, finally looking at you, but her expression was unreadable. Cold. "Why do you even care?"

You felt your stomach drop.

Your breath hitched slightly, but you refused to back down, "are you serious?"

She didn’t answer.

Your chest tightened. "I don’t know what your problem is, Natasha, but I’m done with this. If you have something to say, say it. Be an adult for god’s sake and just-"

"You moved on fast, didn’t you?"

Your words died in your throat. Natasha’s voice was sharp, cutting straight through you, but her expression stayed blank. A bitter laugh escaped your lips, "you’re kidding me."

She didn’t flinch.

"That’s what this is about?" you scoffed, shaking your head. "You think- what? That I wasn’t allowed to move on? That I was supposed to just sit around and wait for you, for you to finally stop playing around and realize that I care about you and not your status, not your past or where you came from- but you!"

Natasha’s jaw tightened, her silence speaking volumes.

"I waited for you, Natasha,” you seethed. "I waited until I realized that you cared more about people who flirted with you over your own girlfriend!"

Her green eyes flickered, but the mask stayed up, "looks like you’re fine now."

You let out a humorless chuckle, voice shaking, "you know what? Screw you. I am happy, Natasha. Truly happy. So why don’t you stick your head out of your ass and actually see that?"

Natasha’s eyes darkened, "for how long?"

You narrowed your eyes, "what?"

"How long until she picks someone else?" Natasha’s voice was calm, but her words dripped with venom, "because she will."

Your breath hitched.

"Don’t-" you warned, your fists clenching at your sides.

"She will," Natasha continued, stepping closer. "She’ll realize there’s someone better out there, someone less complicated, someone who doesn’t-"

"Don’t bring your insecurities into someone else," you snapped, cutting her off.

Natasha’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile, "it’s the truth."

You shook your head, blinking back the sting in your eyes, "you don’t mean that."

Her gaze didn’t waver. "She’ll get sick of you."

You sucked in a breath.

"You’re so needy," Natasha continued, her voice colder than you’d ever heard it. "You need so much, and one day, she’s going to need a break from you."

The words slammed into your chest like a hammer, knocking the air out of you.

Your pulse roared in your ears as you stared at her, your throat burning. "Well, at least I care," you shot back. "At least I’m not some cold, empty killer who doesn’t give a shit about anyone."

Silence.

It was deafening.

You could hear both of your breaths, shaky and uneven. And then, for the first time in a long time, Natasha’s mask cracked. Her eyes glistened, and before she could stop it, a single tear slipped down her cheek. You parted your lips, but no words came out.

She turned away.

And then she was gone, disappearing down the hallway, leaving you standing there, breathless, heart pounding and crying. You wiped your face with the sleeve of your shirt, taking a deep breath before stepping into the gym. Your body ached from the tension still coursing through you, but you tried to shake it off as you walked inside. Wanda was there, quietly cleaning up the mats from training. She hadn’t noticed you yet, too lost in her own thoughts, until she did.

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing slightly as she took you in. You knew she could hear it… your thoughts, loud and messy, tangled with guilt and frustration. "(Y/N)?" she asked softly, setting down the cloth she was holding.

You swallowed, shaking your head. "It’s nothing, I-"

"Don’t do that," Wanda interrupted, stepping closer, "I can feel it. What happened?"

Your chest tightened. You ran a hand down your face before you finally let out a heavy breath. "I found Natasha," you admitted. "We-" You hesitated, pressing your lips together before forcing the words out. "We fought. Badly."

Wanda’s eyes softened with concern, "what did she say?"

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head, "doesn’t matter."

Wanda crossed her arms, "I think it does." The last thing you truly needed was to have a fight with Wanda too.

You looked away, exhaling sharply. "I… I said she was a killer, Wanda." Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "The one thing she’s most vulnerable about, the one thing she probably hates herself for, and I-" Your breath caught in your throat. "I used it on her."

Wanda reached for your hand, squeezing it, "(Y/N)…"

"I weaponized it," you continued, your voice cracking. "That’s not who I am, Wanda. That’s not the kind of person I ever wanted to be."

"And I assume she also said something wrong?" You nodded, so Wanda squeezed your hand again, grounding you. "You both said wrong things."

"But I know better," you insisted, your voice raw. "I knew that would hurt her the most, and I still-" You exhaled shakily, dragging a hand through your hair. "God, this was a stupid idea. It was so stupid to come back here."

Wanda hesitated before speaking. "Well… it was my idea."

You let out another dry laugh, shaking your head, "yeah, but I agreed."

She sighed, watching you carefully, "do you regret it?"

"What?" you blinked at her, caught off guard.

"Being here," Wanda clarified. "Training again. Being with all of us."

You bit your lip, looking down. "No," you admitted after a moment, "not for a second."

Wanda nodded, giving your hand another squeeze. "Then that’s what matters."

You stayed close to Wanda for the rest of the evening, seeking comfort in her presence, unaware that something had shifted within her. She stayed by your side, held your hand when you needed grounding, whispered soft reassurances, but inside, she was battling her own thoughts.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand. She did. Natasha had been close for the two of you, and this fight, as messy as it was, had clearly hurt you. Wanda wanted to be the person you leaned on, the one who supported you through it. And she was.

But it gnawed at her.

The way you were so torn about Natasha. The way you spoke about hurting her, as if it wounded you just as much. The way your eyes had glistened with regret. Wanda tried to shake it off, tried to tell herself it was just because you were a good person. You cared deeply, and that was why she loved you.

But still. It hurt.

She could feel it creeping in, no matter how much she hated it. That little whisper of doubt. Would you ever be that upset about hurting her? Would you ever fight for her the way you fought for Natasha? Are you truly over Natasha?

She hated that her mind went there.

That night, she didn’t bring it up to you. She kissed you softly, held you a little tighter, but her mind was restless.

So, the next morning, she went to find Pietro. She found him in the common room, lazily flipping through TV channels. As soon as she walked in, he gave her a knowing look. "You’ve got that face," he remarked, smirking. "The ‘I’m overthinking everything’ face."

Wanda sighed, flopping onto the couch beside him, "I don’t want to talk about it."

"Cool," Pietro said, then turned back to the TV. "So… how’s the whole ‘my girlfriend cares so much about her ex-who-she-fought-with-and-it’s-really-bothering-me-but-I-don’t-want-to-admit-it’ thing going?"

Wanda groaned, shoving him, "shut up."

Pietro laughed but then glanced at her again. His smirk faded slightly, "wait. You’re actually upset."

She sighed, rubbing her temples, "I don’t want to be, I know she cares about Natasha. I know she’s just upset because she doesn’t like fighting with people she cares about."

"But?" Pietro prompted, raising an eyebrow.

Wanda exhaled sharply. "But it hurts, Pietro. I love her. And I know she loves me, but-" Her voice faltered. "I can’t help but wonder if she´s… still in love with her."

Pietro frowned. He turned off the TV, setting the remote aside as he fully faced her. "Wanda…" He hesitated. "That’s… kind of a sucky feeling."

She let out a dry chuckle, "tell me about it."

He shifted, thinking for a moment. Then, he shrugged, "that’s why I stay single."

She rolled her eyes, "so helpful."

Pietro gave her a half-smile, but when he saw the real distress in her eyes, his expression softened. "I’m serious, though. I don’t know how to help with this. You and (Y/N) love each other. That’s obvious. But I think… I think you’re scared."

Wanda blinked, "of what?"

Pietro tilted his head, "of getting hurt."

Wanda pressed her lips together. Pietro continued, "You always act like you’re fine, like you don’t get jealous or upset, but you do. And that’s okay. But, Wands," he sighed, "if you don’t talk to (Y/N) about it, you’re just gonna keep overthinking until you explode. And I really don’t want to deal with that. Let someone else read you too, you know?"

She let out another sigh, sinking deeper into the couch, "I don’t want to make it a big deal."

"But it is a big deal to you," Pietro pointed out. "So talk to her before it turns into something worse."

Wanda didn’t respond immediately. She just stared at the ceiling, her mind racing. She hated feeling like this. But Pietro was right. And sooner or later, she’d have to say something. But Wanda isn´t the biggest talker, when it comes to her own feelings, so it´s gonna be later than sooner.

At first, you didn´t notice it. Wanda was still smiling at you, still curled into your side when you spend the night at the compound, still slipped her fingers through yours absentmindedly when you passed each other in the hall. But there was something… different.

She kissed you good morning, but it was shorter than usual. She held your hand, but her grip wasn´t as firm. When you teased her, she laughed, but it didn´t quite reach her eyes. It was subtle, but you know Wanda. And something was wrong.

It took a few days before you couldn´t ignore it anymore. She was folding her arms over her chest more, keeping just a bit of space between you. Her mind was louder than usual, unspoken thoughts swirled around her head like static. You tried not to overthink it, but eventually, you had to ask.

You waited until you’re alone, sitting together in your apartment. "Wanda," you said softly, reaching for her hand. "Are you okay?"

Her fingers twitched slightly before she pulled away, "yeah," she answered, too quickly. "I’m fine."

You gave her a look, "Wanda."

She sighed, rubbing her temples, and for the first time in days, she really looked at you. There was hesitation in her eyes, something raw and uncertain, and it made your stomach twist.

"I-" She stopped herself, brows furrowing before she took a shaky breath. "I don’t know how to say this without sounding… jealous. Or insecure. And I don’t want to be that person, but-"

You sat up straighter, heart already pounding, "Wanda, whatever it is, just tell me."

She looked down at her hands. "You and Natasha," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "It’s not just that she’s your ex. It’s the way you fought for her that day, the way you reacted when she left. I saw how much it hurt you."

You opened your mouth to respond, but she shakes her head, pushing forward. "And I get it, I do. I just-" She swallowed hard, eyes flickering with something vulnerable, something fragile. "I’m scared, (Y/N). What if she still has a part of your heart? What if one day, you fight against me the same way?"

You felt like the air has been knocked out of your lungs. "Wanda," you breathe.

She looked away, "I know it’s unfair. I trust you, I do. But I can’t help thinking about it, and I hate that." She clenched her fists. "I hate that she still affects you."

You reached for her again, gently taking her hands in yours. "Wanda," you said firmly, waiting until she meets your gaze. "I love you. And I choose you. Every single day."

She exhaleed shakily, her fingers tightening around yours, "I just don’t want to lose you," she whispered.

You squeezed her hands gently, your heart ached at the look in her eyes. Wanda, your Wanda, who had always been so sure, so steady, now looked at you like she’s terrified of losing you.

"I´m not going anywhere, okay?" your voice was quiet but firm. "I don’t have a place for Natasha as a lover in my heart." You shook your head, swallowing hard. "If anything, she was my friend first. That’s why I fought for her, why I- why I tried."

Wanda looked at you, searching your face for something… maybe reassurance, maybe the truth she already knew, but needed to hear again. Her voice was softer now, hesitant. "Not even a bit of her?"

You sighed, rubbing your thumb over her knuckles. "I can’t change that we were exes," you admited. "It’s… not usual… this situation. I just… I want to make you happy, I don´t want to make you upset." You held her gaze, making sure she understands, "it wansn´t mean to be, it is sad, but we´re here, I´m here with you and i wouldn´t trade it for anything."

Wanda watched you for a long moment, her shoulders slowly relaxing. She nodded, more to herself than to you. "Natasha is my friend too, you know." She let out a sharp breath. "I don’t… Fuck, I hate this."

You blinked in surprise at the sudden curse, eyes widening slightly. It’s rare for Wanda to swear so bluntly, especially when she was being so straightforward.

She gestured vaguely, frustration clear on her face. "It’s a stupid fucking situation."

Despite yourself, you chuckled, shaking your head, "tell me about it."

For a second, there wassilence. Then, finally, Wanda exhaled a laughed too, albeit a small one. And for the first time in days, things didn´t feel so heavy between you. And you promised to eachother that you would try to get out of this situation with zero losses, meaning that neither of you would lose yourselves or Natasha. At the end, she is a friend.

You hadn’t seen much of Natasha since your fight.

Actually, no one had.

She wasn’t just avoiding you, she was avoiding everyone. Steve, Tony, Wanda even Clint. She still showed up for missions, still did what she had to, but beyond that? She was a ghost.

So when Steve pulled her aside and said he had an emergency - two agents fighting, needing backup, she hadn’t expected this. So of course she helped him.

The moment Natasha rushed into the gym, you knew. Her eyes scanned the room wildly before landing on you, her breath still heavy from running over so fast. And when she realized what was actually happening, just you standing there, her face twisted in something unreadable.

You turned, looking at Steve, who simply stood by the door, arms crossed.

Natasha's posture stiffened instantly, her body already pivoting toward the exit. "Steve," she warned, reaching for the handle.

"Talk," he said simply. And then… click.

The sound of the lock sliding into place made you jolt slightly. You glanced between Steve and Natasha, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. It had been weeks since you last spoke. Since that horrible fight where you said things you couldn’t take back. Natasha pulled a hairpin from her pocket, quickly kneeling to pick the lock. But before she could even try, you exhaled, shaking your head.

"You can’t open it," you said, crossing your arms. "Even if you pick the lock. It’s one of Tony’s new systems. The door won’t budge unless Steve lets us out."

Natasha shot you a sharp look before turning back to Steve, who simply raised a brow.

"Guess you’re stuck," he said, then turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you both standing in heavy silence.

Natasha sat on the ground, leaning back against the wall, her fingers absently toying with the pin she had tried to use on the lock. Her gaze was cast downward, jaw tight, and you could see the way her mind was racing, trying to figure out a way to navigate this without letting too much slip.

You watched her for a long moment, arms crossed, shifting your weight between your feet, "this isn’t ideal, I know," you finally said, voice careful, measured. "I doubt either of us wanted to have this conversation. But we’re here."

Natasha stayed quiet.

You took a slow breath, pushing past the lump in your throat. "I know you don’t believe me, but I didn’t mean it."

Her fingers stilled against the pin, but she didn’t lift her head.

You hesitated, forcing yourself to keep going. "That day, when I said what I did- I knew it was going to hurt. That’s why I said it." Your voice cracked slightly, but you didn’t stop. "I wanted to hurt you, the same way you were hurting me."

Silence.

Your chest ached at her lack of response, but you pushed forward anyway.

"I pushed you away," you admitted, voice quieter now. "And now I hate that we’re not even friends anymore." You swallowed hard, emotions threatening to overwhelm you, but you forced yourself to keep looking at her. Really looking at her. "You were a huge part of my life, Nat. That doesn’t just disappear."

Finally, finally, her head lifted slightly. Her green eyes met yours, but they weren’t sharp or guarded like before. They just looked… tired.

"I still want you to be a part of my life," you whispered.

Natasha exhaled deeply, rubbing a hand over her face before finally speaking. "I’m sorry too," she murmured, voice raw. "For everything. And… I don’t think you’re a lot to handle." She hesitated, then shook her head. "I know Wanda won’t ever get tired of you."

Her words hit you harder than you expected. You felt something in your chest unclench just slightly, like a weight had been lifted, like finally, you weren’t fighting against someone who refused to meet you halfway.

"I was a dick," Natasha added, glancing at you.

You huffed a soft laugh, crossing your arms, "yup."

Natasha scoffed, shaking her head, but there was the smallest hint of amusement there.

"But me too," you admitted.

Her lips twitched, barely a ghost of a smirk. "Always had to do the same thing, hm?"

You let out a breath, giving her a small shrug, "it’s what we do."

For a moment, silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t unbearable, it just hung there, fragile but not suffocating. Then Natasha exhaled again, pressing her palms against her knees, looking at nothing in particular. "I had one good thing," she said suddenly, voice quiet. "One thing in my life that felt real. And when we broke up, I lost it. I lost the only good part of me."

Your throat tightened, but you didn’t interrupt.

Natasha’s gaze was distant, like she was lost somewhere in the past. "I’ve never been certain of anything in my life, not really. Everything’s always been a mission, a directive, something to follow. But when I was with you…" She hesitated, fingers twitching slightly. "I thought I was certain. Even if I was terrified of it. And when I had the good thing, I wanted more and more, until the main reason why I was happy… I lost the main sorce of my happiness."

You swallowed hard, biting the inside of your cheek.

She let out a small, humorless chuckle. "I don’t even know what I’m saying right now."

"It’s okay." You reached out your hand, offering to help Natasha stand up.

And for the first time in a long time, Natasha didn’t pull away and took your hand.

You took a slow breath, steadying yourself before speaking, "I don’t regret it, you know."

Natasha blinked, caught off guard, "what?"

"Loving you," you clarifed, your voice steady but soft, "I don’t regret any of it."

She stared at you, like she’s not sure she heard you right. Like it physically hurts her to hear it. But you don’t stop.

"I’m with Wanda now, and I love her. I really, truly do," you continued, watching the way Natasha’s expression shifts, how she keeps her face neutral, but you can see the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers tighten slightly. "But that doesn’t mean what we had wasn’t real, or that I wish it didn’t happen. Because I don’t."

Natasha swallowed hard, looking away for a moment, like she needs to gather herself before she can respond.

"And I know how much you mean to Wanda," you went on. "She doesn’t say it out loud all the time, but I see it. She trusts you, looks up to you even. And Pietro… he’s starting to fit in, and I know a lot of that is because of you."

Natasha exhaled sharply, shaking her head, "I didn’t-"

"You did," you cut in, giving her a small, knowing smile. "Without you, neither of them would be getting comfortable here as easily as they are. And I just…" You paused, gathering the right words. "I see that you’ve changed. And I’m proud of you, Nat."

She looked at you then, really looked at you, like she’s trying to figure out if you mean it. Like she wanted to believe it but didn´t know if she’s allowed to.

"I’d be happy if we could be friends," you said gently. "Because I’d like that. I really would."

There’s a long pause before Natasha finally nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I would like that too."

Something in your chest eased, and when you step forward, arms open slightly, she hesitates only for a second before pulling you into a hug.

You held her tight, and she held you just as firmly, but there’s something else there, something breaking beneath the surface. Because this is closure. This is her realizing that no matter what, she can’t go back in time. And even though she said she want this, even though she does, it still hurts. Seeing you with someone else.

You pulled back just slightly, searching Natasha’s face, "so… we’re good?"

She met your gaze, nods. "Yeah. We’re good.”

Before you could said anything else, there’s a soft beep, and the lock on the door clicks open.

Natasha exhaled sharply, glancing toward it. Then she looked back at you, "if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go kill the famous Captain America."

You couldn´t help but chuckle, stepping aside so she can leave, "go easy on him," you said, though you both know she won’t.

Natasha gave you one last look before shaking her head with a smirk and walking out of the room.

You stood there for a moment, exhaling slowly. It’s like a weight has lifted off your chest. Things are not perfect, but at least you talked things through.

You found Wanda in the common area, lounging on the couch with a book in her lap. The moment she saw you, she smiled, setting it aside. "Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," you replied, dropping down beside her. You exhaled, letting yourself relax for the first time in what felt like days. "I talked to Natasha."

Wanda tilted her head, studying your expression, "and?"

You smiled, a genuine one this time. "We're good. I mean, as good as we can be. We're friends."

Wanda let out a relieved sigh, nodding. "I'm glad. It´s been a lot… she need a break"

"So do you," you pointed out, reaching for her hand. "But yeah, I’m happy. I think this is good for all of us."

Wanda squeezed your fingers gently, "yeah. I think so too."

Before you could say anything else, the door opened, and Natasha walked in. She looked around for a second before her eyes landed on you.

"So," you said with a smirk, "did you kick America's ass?"

Natasha smirked back, "of course I did."

Wanda chuckled softly, shaking her head. But then Natasha’s expression shifted, and she looked at Wanda more seriously. "Can we talk?"

You blinked, exchanging a glance with Wanda. Oh.

Wanda shot you a look before turning back to Natasha, "um… yeah, sure."

You hesitated for a second, then stood up. "I’ll just… be over there," you said, motioning vaguely before slipping out of the room.

As you left, you couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of nervousness. Whatever Natasha wanted to say to Wanda… you just hoped it wouldn’t undo all the progress you had made.

Wanda crossed her arms as she watched you leave, then turned back to Natasha. "Alright," she said carefully. "What do you want to talk about?"

Natasha exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "I just…" She hesitated, like she was trying to figure out how to phrase what she wanted to say. "I wanted to make sure there’s no… weirdness. Between us."

Wanda arched an eyebrow. "No weirdness?"

Natasha shrugged, forcing a small smirk. "Yeah. You and me, we’re good, right?"

Wanda narrowed her eyes, seeing right through her. "You tell me."

Natasha held her gaze for a moment, then sighed. "Look, I just want you and (Y/N) to be happy, alright? That’s all I care about."

Wanda tilted her head, fingers tapping against her arm, "and that’s it?"

"That’s it," Natasha lied, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. She could hear the way her voice wavered, could feel the ache in her chest. But she ignored it.

Wanda studied her, searching for something in her expression. "You don’t have to do that."

Natasha frowned, "do what?"

"Pretend," Wanda answered. "I know it hurts you."

Natasha’s frown deepened. "Don’t go inside my head," she muttered, her tone sharp.

Wanda stayed calm, but her expression remained firm. "I’m not," she said evenly. "But I know that if I did, I’d see that I’m right."

Natasha’s jaw tightened. Something in her shoulders went rigid, a flicker of something almost like panic in her eyes. "Don’t," she snapped, voice lower this time.

Wanda took a slow breath. "Then don’t lie."

Natasha let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "You think you know everything, don’t you?"

"No," Wanda admitted. "But I know enough."

Natasha clenched her fists at her sides, struggling to keep her emotions in check. "It doesn’t matter," she muttered, looking away.

"It does to me," Wanda said softly.

"Why?" Natasha asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it. There was a quiet desperation in it, a frustration she wasn’t sure she could keep contained much longer. "Why do you care? You got what you wanted. You have her."

Wanda hesitated, then stepped forward. "Because you’re my friend too, you know," she said. "And I don’t hate you, even if sometimes I wish I did. It would make this a lot easier."

Natasha forced a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "You and me both."

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

Wanda studied her, searching her face for something Natasha wasn’t sure she wanted to show. "You’re allowed to be upset, Nat," Wanda murmured.

Natasha scoffed. "What good would that do?"

"It’s better than pretending you’re fine when you’re not," Wanda said. Natasha sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. "I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore," she admitted, voice quieter now.

Wanda nodded, understanding. "Then figure it out. But don’t shut everyone out in the process."

Natasha still wouldn’t look up, her eyes fixed on the floor as if the answer to all of this could somehow be found in the cracks beneath her feet. Wanda could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she was holding herself so tightly, and she didn´t have to read her mind at all.

"You don’t have to say anything," Wanda said after a moment, her voice softer now, "but don’t pretend like this doesn’t hurt."

Natasha let out a breath, one that sounded just a little too shaky. "Of course it hurts," she muttered.

Wanda waited, giving her space to keep going, to say something real. And for once, Natasha didn’t fight it.

"I-" Natasha exhaled sharply, raking a hand through her hair. "I know she’s happy with you," she said finally. "And I want that. I want her to be happy." She swallowed hard, shaking her head. "But I still-" She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stop.

Wanda nodded. "You still love her."

Natasha let out a bitter laugh, her hands tightening into fists, "yeah, I do."

Wanda could feel the weight of the confession, how much it was costing Natasha to say it out loud, especially to her. And for once, she didn’t feel jealousy creeping in. Just… sadness.

"But that doesn’t change anything," Natasha said quickly, as if trying to convince herself more than Wanda. "She’s not mine anymore. She hasn’t been for a long time."

"That doesn’t mean you can just switch it off," Wanda said gently.

Natasha sighed, finally looking up. "I know that, I tried that," she let out a chuckle. "But I also know I don’t want to lose her again. And I sure as hell don’t want to mess things up with you."

Wanda blinked, caught off guard, "with me?"

"Yeah," Natasha said, her voice almost resigned. "I know I’ve been a pain in the ass, but… you’re important to her. And I- I don’t want to be the thing that puts a wedge between you two."

Wanda studied her for a long moment. There was no deception in Natasha’s face this time. No act, no pretense. Just raw, aching honesty.

"You won’t," Wanda promised. "Not if we don’t let it." Natasha huffed a quiet, humorless laugh. "You make it sound so easy."

"It’s not," Wanda admitted. "But that doesn’t mean we can’t try." Natasha didn’t answer right away. She just stared at nothing, shoulders slumped. She looked exhausted, drained in a way Wanda hadn’t seen before.

"I just… I miss what it felt like," Natasha said suddenly, voice so quiet Wanda almost missed it. "Being in love with her. Being loved by her." She exhaled. "It was the one good thing I had. And when I lost it, I lost the best part of me."

Wanda’s chest ached at the way she said it, like she truly believed it. "That’s not true," she said. "You’re more than who you were with her, Nat."

Natasha didn’t look convinced.

"You don’t have to lose her," Wanda continued. "Not completely. And you don’t have to lose yourself either."

Natasha let the words sink in, her throat working as she swallowed. "I want to believe that," she admitted.

"Then start trying."

Natasha huffed a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. "Look how the tables turn," she muttered, shaking her head. "You helping me out."

Wanda smiled, tilting her head slightly. "That’s what friends do.”

Natasha blinked at her, something twisting deep in her chest. Friends. It should feel like a relief, like something solid to hold on to, but all she could think was… why is she so nice?

She should hate her. She should resent her, should want nothing to do with her. After everything, after the hurt, the mess Natasha had made of things. But she didn’t.

Wanda looked at her for a long moment, as if she could hear every thought in Natasha’s head. And maybe she didn’t need her powers to do that, maybe she just knew.

"You held enough hate to yourself," Wanda said, voice steady. "I don´t see the point to adding up on that."

Natasha swallowed, her throat suddenly too tight.

"Love is-" she hesitated, searching for the right words. "Love is what holds a person together. What keeps them alive."

Natasha looked away, jaw clenching. She wanted to argue, to push back, to scoff at the idea of love being some great, saving force. But… wasn’t that why she was hurting? Because she had lost it?

Wanda sighed. "I know what it’s like to hold onto something so tightly because you’re afraid of what happens if you let go." She exhaled, softer now. "But you don’t have to hold on alone, Natasha."

Natasha closed her eyes for a moment. She didn’t know what she had expected from this conversation… maybe anger, maybe resentment. But not this. Not understanding.

When she opened them again, Wanda was still looking at her, still offering something Natasha wasn’t sure she deserved. But she wanted to. God, she wanted to.

So she just nodded. "Okay."

Wanda smiled, small but real. "Okay."

…

Weeks passed, and Natasha was really trying.

She helped you with recruits, running combat drills and teaching them how to spot weaknesses in an opponent. She sparred with Steve, listened to his endless lectures about teamwork, and even agreed to help Clint babysit on his rare nights off. She joined in on dinners with the rest of the Avengers, laughing at Tony’s terrible impressions and throwing in her own dry remarks that made everyone crack up.

She and Wanda found an easy rhythm on missions, covering each other, moving as a unit. There was no hesitation between them, no lingering tension. Just trust. And when you and Natasha sat together, talking shit about Fury’s ever-growing list of secrets, it almost felt like before.

Every friday night (if there was no missions or Tony´s parties) the common room was filled with laughter, the soft glow of the TV casting a warm light over the group. It was movie night, something Tony had declared mandatory for "team bonding" (though everyone suspected he just liked forcing his bad taste in movies on the rest of them).

You were curled up against Wanda, her fingers tracing absentminded patterns along your arm. She was warm, solid against you, and every now and then, she pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

Across the room, Steve was in the middle of a heated debate with Tony, arms crossed as he scowled. "Salted popcorn is objectively better," Steve argued, gesturing toward the bowl in his lap. "It’s simple, classic-"

"Boring," Tony interrupted, tossing a handful of caramel popcorn into his mouth. "You’re boring, Rogers."

"Caramel is just sugar pretending to be food," Steve shot back.

Bucky, lounging lazily with his feet up on the coffee table, raised an eyebrow. "Aren’t you a billionaire? Why don’t we just make both and be done with this?"

Tony scoffed dramatically, waving a hand. "That’s not the point, Rust Bucket."

Natasha, sitting comfortably in the armchair beside them, smirked and looked over at Bucky. "Leave them. They’ll tire themselves out in a minute."

Bucky hummed in agreement, watching as Steve and Tony continued bickering like an old married couple. Natasha’s gaze flickered over to you and Wanda. Her expression softened as she took in the way. Wanda curled closer to you, the way you leaned into her touch without hesitation.

She flashed you both a small, easy smile. "You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?"

Wanda rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Says the woman who ‘accidentally’ left The Notebook playing on loop last week."

Natasha scoffed, "That was Clint, and I stand by my alibi."

You chuckled, shaking your head. It was nice… this easy, teasing dynamic. Natasha seemed okay. She felt okay.

Everything was good.

Everything was normal.

Natasha sat back in her chair, a faint smirk playing on her lips as she watched the group around her. The warmth of their laughter, the way they bickered and teased, it should have felt like home. It should have been enough. It was before.

She turned her gaze back to you and Wanda, curled up together on the couch, lost in your own little world. She had smiled when she called you disgustingly cute, had even managed to make it sound teasing and light. But the words had burned as they left her lips, a quiet kind of agony twisting in her chest.

Because the truth was, it still hurt. It still felt like she was being ripped apart, piece by piece, every time she looked at you and knew you weren’t hers anymore.

And yet, no one noticed.

No one noticed the way her hands shook when she was alone, gripping the edge of the sink until her knuckles turned white. No one noticed the way exhaustion clung to her bones, no matter how much she slept, if she even slept at all. No one noticed that her smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes, that they never had, not since she lost you.

No one noticed how, when she said she was happy for you, she had been lying… not to you, but to herself.

No one noticed that beneath it all, she still felt lost.

And this time, she was faking it so well that even she almost believed it.

Almost.

taglist: @starrycherie, @esposadejoyhuerta, @redroomgraduate, @seventeen-x

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday to you! More merthur role reversal, please and thank you!

a continuation of 1 2

Merlin doesn't have high expectations regarding Arthur's skill as a servant. He's a peasant farmer with an unexpected grasp of weaponry who's probably never even been inside a castle before he'd gotten conscripted into fighting in their war against Camelot.

Arthur is, obviously and understandably, upset at the role he's been forced into. Merlin means to give it a week and then convince his mother that sending Arthur home is a much better reward than making him do Merlin's laundry. Plus, they already have servants who've actually been trained to do this work. He figures after a week of Arthur bumbling around, sending him home will be a relief for everyone.

Except that he's really good at it.

A day in, he has the entire layout of the castle memorized. He knows which clothes go to the laundress and which just need to be beat and set in the sun. He figures out how to order a bath and knows what weird salts and oils go in it even though Merlin usually can't be bothered. He stands with perfect posture at the high table and switches seamlessly between pouring him water and wine, clocking correctly that he can't handle more than two glasses without making a fool of himself, which he thinks he should be offended by except that he's right. He knows which meals Merlin can take in his room and when he has to be dragged to the great hall, memorizes his schedule like the life of a prince is something logical and not a mess of responsibilities and priorities. He even manages to sort Merlin's potions ingredients without much issue, even if he does mutter disparagingly about the waste, which he doesn't understand but decides not to ask.

Frankly, he's the best servant that Merlin's ever had, but even if he wasn't, he still would be, because he's not afraid of his magic.

People aren't afraid of him, really, thank the goddess, but his magic is huge and terrifying and he can only control it with any accuracy half the time. Every time he goes to cast something, everyone ducks, even his teachers.

Arthur has no magic of his own, and honestly seems faintly disapproving of the whole idea of it, but when Merlin explodes something he doesn't mean to or sets it on fire or turns it blue or - well, something he doesn't intend to, something that could so easily be turned against him if Merlin isn't careful, he doesn't so much as flinch.

Even Will is wary of getting caught in his crossfire. Arthur just seems irritated when it ends up making more work for him.

Arthur starts his day like always, throwing open his curtains and telling him to stop lazing about.

"You can't talk to me that way," Merlin says sleepily, burying his face in his pillow to escape the awful sunlight Arthur insists on letting in. "I'm a prince. And a really powerful sorcerer. I," he yawns, "I demand respect."

"You're going to be late for your meeting with your mother," Arthur says, yanking Merlin's pillow out of his arms and holding it threateningly above him. Merlin's already learned the hard way that Arthur isn't above beating him if he doesn't move fast enough.

He moans and rolls to his feet. "I'm going to put you in the stocks."

"Of course, Prince Merlin," Arthur says, as unimpressed with him as ever. "Whatever you say, Prince Merlin. You have budget proposals from the city to look over."

He groans. "You know, you should have more sympathy for me. This whole prince thing is harder than it looks! I'd like to see you do it."

Arthur's mouth twitches. "You do it, Merlin, how hard could it be?"

Uhg. One of these days he really is going to throw him in the stocks.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Hiii!! Here for the 'ask and receive' thingy you're doing! I'm thinking allure!MATZ (maybe seonghwa focus? 😏) with the prompts 120, 122, 214, 220, 221, 224. What do you think?? Love your fics btw 💕💕

➯a/n: OOOUUUH WHAT DO I THIIINK ? i think- shit, where'd my clothes go ? kkkkk its about time i did some pure smut in this universe !! thank you very much and enjoy <33

Allure

Scent of You

❥Park Seonghwa x fem reader x Kim Hongjoong

120 + 122: "faster, faster — please ! " + "just like — oh, fuck ! just like that ! "

✫彡wordcount: 2.6k

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut, a/b/o au

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: 214: cnc, 220: manhandling, 221: creampie/breeding, 224: knotting, predator/prey chase, clothed/naked dynamic, outdoor sex, double penetration, pet names, dirty talk, multiple creampie, this adds almost zero to the plot/universe imma be real; they just fuckin, not proof read

♫Allure Soundtrack♫ "Just howl all night, like we got nothing to lose." &TEAM, Scent of you♫

♡masterlist !♡

MINORS GO AWAY

˚➶ ｡˚

It's been a long time since your adrenaline was so high.

You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, in your ears, in your finger tips — in your cunt.

The chilly fall air burns your lungs as you push yourself. You're so far into the woods and away from the farmhouse that you wouldn't be able to find your way back even in the broad daylight; forget about doing it now, in the middle of the night with only the moon to guide you.

Good thing Seonghwa is hot on your tail and ready to drag you back home after he catches you.

His footsteps crunch the fallen leaves as he makes his way to catch up with you; not even trying to be quiet in his pursuit. Both of you know that he's faster, that he's eventually going to get you. But that doesn't matter. That's, in actuality, the whole point.

He and Hongjoong opened up to you a few months ago, about how they had some... peculiar interests. Things they wanted to try. Things their wolves wanted to do. At the top of that list, just below 'breed' — was 'hunt.'

It's no secret that alpha's are more in tune with their wolves natural instincts, their natural urges. The stronger the wolf, the stronger the urges. And you happen to have two very strong alpha's as your mates.

Seonghwa is the strongest wolf of your entire generation, he was the first born. When you agreed to this, he literally howled with joy at the fact that he would be able to chase you down and 'earn' what he took.

Hongjoong was just as excited, he nearly pounced on you then and there.

You can't lie. It's fucking exhilarating. Your wolf is prancing in your head at the knowledge that your mates are hunting you down with the intention of knotting you as roughly as they please.

You catch yourself by grabbing onto a tree as a lighting fast shadow crosses your vision up ahead, making you stumble. Hongjoong, it had to have been; because Seonghwa is still right behind you — oh, fuck.

You're tackled, Seonghwa's arms wrapping around you tightly and pulling you on top of him before you can collide with the dirt. "You cheaters!" You pant as you fall over him bonelessly, "he cut me off."

"We got you fair and square," he growls as he grabs the back of your sweater collar. Not another second is wasted as he riiiips the clothing down your back, "there wasn't a rule saying we couldn't corner you. Should have thought of that, Omega."

You gasp as the cold air hits your torso, exposed as he yanks the fabric off your arms. A yelp follows, having been pulled straight up and off him by Hongjoong.

He shoves you belly down onto the ground, "you're just so naive, Dolly~" He giggles, yanking your bottoms down. Not even bothering with your shoes as he pulls your pants off you. "Didn't you realize only one of us was behind you?"

"Get-" Your mind comes back to you after your initial shock of being caught and nearly stripped so fast, "get off me!" It's a little less convincing than it could be, but that's because you want them just as badly as they want you. Your ankle is immediately caught by a clawed hand as you go to kick at him, his other-worldly sharp nails threatening to press into your skin.

"I don't think so." He smirks as you look over your shoulder, wide eyes meeting his blackened ones. "You're ours. If you didn't want this, you should have ran faster~"

His words, although you know they are truly nothing but play pretend, make your heart thud in your chest harder and harder. You know you can end this with a single word. But you don't want to. "Wh- what are you gonna do?"

"We're gonna fuck you," Seonghwa's voice echos in the woods with a deep, dark purr laced in it as he stands infront of you.

The full moon is shining bright through the trees behind him, casting you in his shadow as Hongjoong plays with your hair teasingly.

"And you're gonna take it like the good little Omega that you are."

You couldn't respond even if you knew what to say as Hongjoong uses his claws and cuts your bra off of you, his palms immediately on your breasts as he grinds into your backside, making your jaw drop.

     "Maybe, if you behave," Seonghwa hums as he crouches, red eyes locked on yours, "I'll give you my puppies."

    You want to beg, 'please, please, fill me up!' Instead, you give him your best pout, finding yourself slipping more and more into the role of helpless prey. "You perverts..."

     "Ah, we're the perverts?" Hongjoong chuckles as he continues to grind his jean clad bulge against your panties. The texture is so rough and nice. That, along with the chase — has you soaking through the fabric.

    He sits up, holding you down by your shoulders as he leans his head back and takes a deep, purposeful breath in through his nose. "Mmmm," he bites his lip. You smell so tempting. So delicious. "You smell that, Baby?"

    Seonghwa smirks at his question. Of course he does. "Hm? You mean that sweet smell of our Omega's cunt begging for us?" You whine, genuinely embarrassed. Curse their stupidly strong senses.

     "I bet I could slip right in." Hongjoong's words make your eyes widen, and Seonghwa grins darkly, kneeling in front of you and leaning right to your face.

    "I bet so too. I bet she'll let you right in~ Her pussy is telling the truth, even when her mouth is lying."

   "No!" You try to push yourself up, only succeeding in pushing your ass against Hongjoong's bulge and making them laugh.

    "Oh, yes, Dolly~" He unbuttons his bottoms and is hurrying to free himself while you struggle lightly beneath him. "I'm not a very patient man, you know that by now."

     "Hongjoong, Hongjoong, wait! Wait a second, please!"

    Seonghwa grabs the back of your neck, tilting his head as he looks down at you. "What? Why should we wait? Hm?"

      "Y- At least stretch me out..." You feel so filthy for the words that leave your lips; but the harmonious rumbles from your Alpha's tell you that you definitely just did something right.

     In truth, you were already more than ready to take one or even both of the them. They'd been teasing you for hours before the moon rose and the chase began. 

    They didn't want to hurt you, after all — not that badly.

     "Oh," Hongjoong lets out an amused breath from behind you. You're just as into this as they are, slipping more and more into the game. "I'll stretch you out, alright."

      He shoves your panties down your thighs, barely giving him enough room to slam into you. And slam he does. Knocking every thought from your head and your breath along with it as he settles his member as deep as possible.

      It was only a slight hint of pain, the rest of what you were feeling was pure, unadulterated pleasure.

     Seonghwa could see it in your face. Your brows pushed together and your eyes glazing over as small howl gets broken off in your throat. "That's it, Starlight," he breaks the facade with a soft praise, cupping your trembling jaw. "Let our mate fuck you in the dirt like the animals we are."

    "F-uuuuck!" You scream as Hongjoong begins hammering into you, his growls reverberating off of the trees around you. Even as he gets lost in the clenching grip of your heat, he's careful with his claws as he grabs onto your shoulders; pulling you up to your knees.

    "Hongjoong, be gen-gentle!" Don't be gentle. Don't be gentle. Fuck me like the Alpha you are.

    His eyes roll back into his head as your thoughts reach him.

    They reached Seonghwa as well, who now cups your face with both hands and squishes your cheeks together roughly. "Gentle? You want gentle? Too fucking bad, pup. You're gonna take us like the Omega you are."

Oh, you could faint. They're always rough. It's in your nature. But this is all new and dizzying and making you drip around Hongjoong's pistoning cock.

     Seonghwa is grinning like a madman as you gulp, he can hear your heart thrumming like crazy as he comes closer. He shoves your face in his shoulder and holds you there with one hand while the other grasps onto your hip and guides you to start pushing back on Hongjoong.

     "Fucking hell-" The blond hisses, his clawed hands wrapping up in your hair and holding onto you tightly. Not pulling, just grounding himself with you roughly as Seonghwa pulls you back and forth to meet his hard thrusts.

      You wail into his shoulder, biting his hoodie and letting out a pathetic growl.

    Hongjoong is continuing their tradition of trying to mold the shape of his cock into you so that Seonghwa can do the same and see which sticks longer. He's hitting every deep, sensitive part of you as he slips in and out at a brutal pace with the help of your shared mate. 

    "Just like that, Baby," Hongjoong purrs deeply, one of his hands finding his on your hip and settling on top of it. "Just like —" A breath hitches in his throat as you tilt your hips, and he's suddenly pounding into you impossibly harder while holding you at the new angle. "Oh, fuck~" He laughs breathlessly, "just like that!"

      You slap your hands against the ground to cope with the new and intrusive feeling of him pushing himself somewhere... deeper. "Joong!! Too deep!" Every thrust is making his fat tip kiss the entrance of your womb. Don't stop. Don't stop.

"Cum inside of her," Seonghwa groans as he lets go of your head, eagerly yanking at his belt and locking eyes with the near feral man inside of you. "Lube her up nice and good so we can knot her together."

"Wha-aaaah," you squeal as Hongjoong pushes your face to the ground, one cheek to the dirt and your back arched deeply. His hand is on your other cheek, pining you to the ground with your ass in the air as he fucks you like he needs to breed you more than he needs to breathe.

It's almost like he does. As his pleasure slams into a peak almost as violently as he's slamming into you — he doesn't even realize he's holding his breath as he's shooting his load deep inside of you.

Not until Seonghwa's hand finds his shoulder, and he unlatches his jaw to snap at him before he realizes that's his mate too.

    "Easy, tiger," Seonghwa smiles devilishly as he pushes back Hongjoong's hair, "aren't you gonna let me in?"

     Fuck, yes, he is.

   Hongjoong reaches down and tucks his arms under your shoulders, yanking you up as you whimper, "hurry, Alpha... Need you~"

     Any part of you that was trying to hold onto the act is gone, your wolf is demanding to be knotted full by your mates. And they are more than eager to comply.

A small yip from you makes Seonghwa chuckle, watching you be jerked around with a primal satisfaction settling in his gut. Even though he knows, in reality, you wanted them this whole time — there's something so satisfying about the way they've gotten you so pliant and begging for their knots.

Your panties, still caught around your knees, stop your legs from opening all the way as Hongjoong lays back with you on top of him. He twitches inside of you, reaching around and using his claws slice the fabric. "Open up for your Alpha's, Dolly~"

As Seonghwa climbs over you, stroking his member slowly as he eyes you like a predator, Hongjoong holds your thighs and spreads you wide.

"Pretty Omega wants our knots, hm?" Seonghwa hums as he grips your jaw with his free hand, leaning over you with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Yes..." You answer breathlessly, blinking at him slowly and letting a pout form on your lips.

"Fuck — how can I say no to that?"

Your wail echoes in the silent night, your head thrown back and your small fangs gritting together as he all but shoves his bulky tip into your stretched hole. Hongjoong is panting like a dog underneath you, his eyes squeezing shut in focus as he forces himself to retract his claws. When he's successful, his fingers immediately find your clit; bombarding you with pleasure and sending mixed signals to your brain.

Seonghwa is stretching you out in an incredible and punishing way as he joins your mate inside of you, Hongjoong is flooding your body with dopamine. All of your wolves are noisy beyond belief in your mind as they howl with joy at being so undeniably close.

     You hadn't come to expect gentleness from the eldest alpha, and you aren't surprised in the slightest bit that your chase had worked him up. He only gives you a single split second, while he grabs ahold of your hips, before he's done waiting and starts rutting into you.

     You and Hongjoong are equally wrecked as Seonghwa grinds against him rough and deep inside of you, the sounds of his previous release squelching while being pounded back into you stirring him on.

    He uses his grip on your hips to drag you up and down, his lip snarling upwards as he growls, "our perfect Omega takes it so good-"

     Hongjoong is growling louder than he is now, cutting him off as he starts thrusting in time with how he moves you. "Faster."

    "We don't want to break her~" He laughs lowly as the younger wolf's pout.

    "She can take it," Hongjoong whines, "right, Dolly?" He rubs his hands up your torso, abandoning his teasing of your clit now that you're falling apart on their lengths. 

    You nod quickly, hands scrambling for anything to hold onto you. You find Seonghwa's hoodie; grasping it tightly in your fists as you look up at him. "Faster, faster — please! Please, Alpha!"

    You know just how to press their buttons by now — which is exactly why you get just what you asked for.

Faster. Harder. They're animalistic in the way they take you. You can hardly think. But you don't have to. All you have to do is take it and revel in it.

A small howl leaves your pursed lips as your back arches off of Hongjoong's chest, thrusted about by their intense in-and-out and only held in place by Seonghwa's rough hands on your hips.

Your claws are dug into his hoodie, the tearing sound going completely ignored because the feeling of Hongjoong's knot swelling up and making the space they occupy even snugger.

"You gonna take it, Starlight?" Seonghwa hums a moan as he leans over you completely, crushing you between them, "gonna have our puppies?"

"Yes! Yes, pl-ease!"

Your yowl as Hongjoong's knot finally locks up inside of you — spurting even more hot cum — is muffled as Seonghwa latches his lips to yours. He keeps you right there, kissing you heated and messy as he copies the younger alpha's actions; stuffing you beyond completely and finally making that burning pleasure inside of you snap.

He rubs your stomach softly as you tremble and convulse with ecstasy, smiling against your lips as he feels their knots inside of you.

When he pulls away, he rest his head in the crook of your neck — purring loud and proud as he kitten licks at your mating mark. Hongjoong is rumbling happily below you, his arms wrapped around your waist softly and eyes closed blissfully.

"Such a perfect Omega," Seonghwa purrs, "we're so lucky."

˚➶ ｡˚