#I know this is probably impossible but I had to suffer so now you do too

[akirathedramaqueen]

You can't help a person who won't accept it

Let's talk 7-year-gap, shall we?

So I've heard an opinion that it's strange and even OOC that Wright was disbarred for seven whole years. That, despite having many friends in legal world and reputation, his attorney's license wasn't reinstated until Edgeworth asked him to go back to practicing law.

That it's lowkey alienating and cruel that Wright had seemingly never gotten any support. Especially from Edgeworth, who's his (according to canon; guys, we know what's up) best friend.

Or had he?

See, Phoenix Wright isn't the kind of person to ask for help.

When Edgeworth disappeared, or, in his own words, chose death, Wright didn't talk about it with anyone. Maya wondered—and many times—what happened to him, but Phoenix rudely shut down all attempts to start a conversation. He was angry, rightfully so, and was grieving, and yet, he shared this pain with no one. It's unclear if he believed that Edgeworth truly died, but, the fact remained that it traumatized him deeply. And he kept it inside for the whole year. Even as Edgeworth returned, Wright's reaction was . . . lacking.

When Maya was kidnapped, he didn't say anything until Edgeworth confronted him. Granted, Gumshoe knew, but . . . That's rather an exception. And probably made because it was about Maya and not Wright personally.

Later, during Bridge to the Turnabout case, we know he was troubled by Iris and her appearance, cue the Dahlia trauma. He didn't tell Maya. He didn't tell Edgeworth. Just shouldered it alone, until Edgeworth started digging into it himself, as it had gotten clear Wright had to open up to Edgeworth to progress with his investigation. And this is huge. We're talking about the betrayal of a person who he thought he'd loved . . . someone get this man into therapy.

So, is it as much of a surprise that he just gritted his teeth and self-isolated himself from everyone when he'd lost his badge?

And not only that—Kristoph was stalking him, and Wright knew he was playing a dangerous game. He spent all these years gathering evidence, waiting for his chance to take his nemesis down.

That day broke him, made him bitter, cynical, and even more closed-off. If before he could, with some nudging, open up to someone, now it was impossible. Remember how he treated Apollo throughout the whole game.

And, back to the sort-of-present . . . Do you seriously believe Edgeworth had never tried to reach to him?

Look.

They barely mention it in their conversation, and yet, for me, this line speaks volumes.

Look at the words Phoenix uses: "I'm sorry for all I put you through."

Yes, Edgeworth does take responsibility for this too.

But again. Phrasing. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to help you."

It doesn't read as Edgeworth apologizing for forgetting Phoenix existed and letting him suffer all those years.

It just isn't true. He talks casually, fleetingly about visiting one of Trucy's shows. He kept connection with them both. This dynamic even sounds familial to a certain degree.

Does he look like a man who abandoned Phoenix?

Haha, I'm going to pull it.

Let's turn our thinking around, as one wise woman taught us. We shouldn't ask ourselves, "Why didn't Edgeworth help Phoenix?" Instead, we need to ask, "Why couldn't Edgeworth help Phoenix?"

And, given all the other facts I've pointed out so far, it's quite obvious, no?

Phoenix wouldn't let him.

So, that's what Phoenix left unsaid with his 'sorry':

Sorry I caused such a huge mess.

Sorry I was difficult.

Sorry I couldn't be genuine with you.

Sorry I drove you mad with worry.

And all that Edgeworth meant with his 'sorry' was simple, "Sorry I didn't find a way to get to you and share your burden."

. . . Guess who jumps to action the moment Phoenix shows interest in getting back into the legal world.

He pulled some strings, influenced people who reevaluated Phoenix, made his life easier and never asked for 'thanks.'

He was there, ready for the moment when Phoenix would be finally done chasing his own demons.

So Phoenix was never abandoned. But he has a very well-pronounced martyr complex.

There. Said it.

[foxy-eva]

Send Nudes

Summary: Chaos ensues after you accidentally send Spencer a nude pic

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) dub-con (Spencer receives an unsolicited nude pic), embarrassment, awkwardness, tension, heavy kissing, male masturbation, oral (fem receiving), handjob, protected penetrative sex

Author's Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Wrong Recipient Challenge!

Word count: 3.2k

Masterlist

Panic. Embarrassment. Shame. 

It was hard to describe what you felt when you stared at your phone, realizing that you had just sent Spencer Reid a nude picture of yourself. 

It was a mistake, of course – right when you wanted to send him a screenshot of an article, you stumbled over the mess in your apartment and selected the wrong picture. Frozen in place, you watched in horror as the read receipt showed up instantly. 

Spencer had just seen your naked body light up on the screen of his phone. 

A picture he never asked for and probably didn't want to see. It wasn’t a bad photo, some might even call it aesthetically pleasing. But you had never intended for anyone else to see it. It was just a way for you to make yourself feel good about your body. 

You contemplated your options. Burning your phone, moving across the country and changing your identity sounded intriguing but difficult to arrange. Instead you decided to text Spencer, hoping that soon you’d both be able to laugh about the embarrassing thing you just did. 

“I am so sorry about that. I really didn't mean to send that! Can you please delete the pic and forget about it?” 

You didn't get a response. Spencer was never great at texting but you had really hoped to hear back from him. It was hard to tell if he felt just as embarrassed or maybe even offended – you certainly wouldn't want to receive unsolicited nude pics either. 

You had barely gotten any sleep when you walked into work the next morning. Worst case scenarios had plagued your mind all night – from another painful workplace sexual harassment seminar to maybe even losing your job over your mishap – you had no idea what would expect you today. 

Everything seemed normal when you got to your desk, except for the fact that your favorite coworker didn't even look at you when you walked by him. Spencer usually liked sitting beside you in the conference room and also on the jet, but he did neither of those things that day. 

“Wow you really must have pissed Reid off, huh?” Luke whispered when he sat down beside you on the plane. 

“Did he say anything to you?” you wanted to know. 

“No, he didn't. What did you do? Spill coffee over his favorite chess board?” he teased. 

“Oh it’s so much worse than that,” you whined while heat rushed to your face. 

Emily decided to discuss the case before Luke could ask more questions. Spencer avoided you for the next couple of hours until you decided you both had suffered enough. 

A quiet moment in the coffee kitchen of the police precinct seemed good enough to approach him.

“Hey Spencer,” you said and noticed how he almost jumped at the sound of your voice. 

“H…hi,” he mumbled, his eyes fixated on the floor.

Stepping closer, he finally looked at you for the first time that day. The rosy shade spreading over his cheeks was impossible to ignore. 

“I’m very sorry about the… you know. I didn't mean to send it but I understand if you feel offended by it,” you sincerely told him. 

“I’m not… offended.”

You took a deep breath before you continued talking, “All I want to say is… if you want to discuss this incident with Emily or even HR, I would understand. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable in any way.” 

“No, it’s okay, really,” he lied. “We can just forget about it.” 

Spencer Reid was good at many things. Lying, however, definitely wasn’t his strong suit. You decided to drop the subject for now, aware that talking more about it would probably not make him less uncomfortable. 

The tension between you two was palpable for the rest of the workday. When you stepped into your hotel room that night, you were relieved to finally have a couple of walls between the two of you. 

If this thing didn't resolve soon, you’d have to talk to Emily about it eventually. But there was still hope that it wouldn't come to that. The embarrassment about your mishap was already bad enough as is.

The three knocks on your hotel door startled you. With your heart beating uncomfortably fast, you walked over to the door to find Spencer on the other side. 

He walked into your room without saying a word. Then he began slowly pacing up and down your room, still silent. He looked at you for a second but his sight fell to the floor immediately after that. 

“I uh…” he began before taking a deep breath. “I lied to you earlier.”

“About what?” you wanted to clarify. “Wanting to go to HR?” 

He shook his head. “I said that we can just forget about it but I don’t think I can do that.” 

Your heart felt heavy at his words. His discomfort pained you and you wished nothing more than to be able to take it back. “I’m so sorry Spencer.”

“I deleted the image off my phone but…” he paused to finally look at you. The expression written over his face was hard to read. What you didn't find was the discomfort you expected. Instead he looked… cocky?

He continued, “...it seems like it’s burned into my brain. And I can’t help but wonder, was it really an accident?”

“What?! Of course!” you squeaked. “Believe me, I would never want to send you a picture like that unprompted.”

That was when you saw a subtle smirk on his face. “Interesting choice of words.” 

You thought about it for a moment. Had you really just implied that you would want to send him nudes if he’d ask you to? 

“That's not what I meant,” you tried to brush it off. “And please don’t give me a lecture about Freudian slips.”

His presence filled the room and you felt like you couldn't take deep enough breaths to satiate your need for oxygen. His demeanor was so different from what you were used to and you had trouble wrapping your head around it.

His next question was even more surprising. “Who did you take this picture for?” 

The undertone in his voice was unsettling and you started feeling defensive. “I don’t see how that's any of your business but just for the record, I took it for myself. I do that occasionally to make myself feel good about my body.” 

It seemed as if he was content, almost relieved with your answer. You scanned his body language again and replayed his words in your head. Then it hit you all at once. Spencer was not here to scold you for what you did. 

He was jealous. And he wanted to make sure no one else got to see your picture. 

A grin formed on your face as you realized that you could play this game too.

Your tone was laced with a certain playfulness when you asked, “What did you do after you saw the picture?”

The change of your demeanor seemed to take Spencer by surprise. “I just told you, I deleted it.” 

“I don't think that's all you did.” He audibly gulped and you noticed his cheeks taking on a reddish color. Stepping closer to him, you whispered, “Did you touch yourself, Spencer?”

A shaky breath left his mouth before he confessed, “Yes.”

“Naughty boy,” You teased him. “You really liked that image, hm?” 

Nodding, he took a step forward until there was barely any space between the two of you. “I can't stop thinking about you.”

His words boosted your confidence. “I know I look great in that pic. But I think I would look even better in this lighting right here, don’t you think?” 

Before you could bring to action what you had insinuated, you felt Spencer's hands cupping your face to pull you into a kiss. The surprised gasp escaping your throat was muffled by his lips against yours. 

He kissed you with a fervor that knocked the air out of your lungs. Weakness rushed to your knees and you had to hold onto him to not tumble back. One hand pawed at his shirt while the other one held onto his shoulder. His lips felt soft yet firm against yours. 

When his tongue begged for entrance, you let it. As he deepened the kiss, you could feel heat rushing through body. A few moments ago you really thought you’d have the upper hand in this game you were playing but now realized you were just as pathetic as he was. 

Maybe sending him that image was a Freudian slip of some kind. Or maybe it was just some odd plan the universe had to bring you together. Either way, you were grateful for how things turned out. 

Your hands became curious as they wandered over Spencer’s body. The tingling in your fingertips could only be soothed by feeling his skin underneath them, so they quickly began unbuttoning his shirt. Spencer showed a similar interest in feeling more of you by the way his fingers dropped down to the hem of your shirt. 

Piece after piece both of your clothes fell to the floor, only ever breaking the kiss for as long as necessary. When you stood completely bare in front of one another, you dared to press your body against his to feel him. 

It was impossible to tell who moaned first when his length pressed against your stomach. With a firm grip on his shoulders, you moved him back until his legs made contact with the edge of the bed. You pushed down until he sat on the mattress, staring up at you with a curiosity in his eyes that made your heart jump. 

As you stepped back, his tongue darted out of his mouth to lick over his lips and you wondered if he thought about tasting you. To your surprise, he managed to not break eye contact until you challenged him, “Go on, take a look.”

His sight scanned your body, lingering on your breasts for a second before moving further down, taking everything in. You couldn’t hold back from looking at him, too. A rosy color had spread all over his cheeks and chest and when you dared to drop your eyes to his cock, you noticed how it twitched slightly against his thigh. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed when your eyes met again. 

“Better than the image?” you teased, smirking at him. 

He only nodded before looking at your body again. It was like he was mesmerized, as if a miracle had just unfolded right before him. It became obvious that he was ready to worship you if you’d let him. But first, you had something else in your mind. 

“Show me exactly what you did when you saw my picture,” you told him. 

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Wh… what?” 

“Don’t be shy now,” you snickered. “Come on, I wanna see how pretty you think I am.” 

The sweet smile on your face seemed to encourage him enough to let his right hand move towards his hardness. It was as if he needed reassurance when he found your eyes and you nodded.

He wrapped his fingers around his cock, giving himself a squeeze and you watched as precum spilled over the tip. Slowly, he began moving his fist up and down his length, swiping his thumb over the head each time he got to the top. The groan that slipped from his lips could only be described as absolutely sinful. 

You couldn’t deny how much the sight in front of you turned you on. Spencer was so incredibly beautiful and the thought that your body had the ability to make him feral like that drove you insane. 

Arousal gathered at your entrance the longer you watched him. This show was no longer enough for you, you needed more. Your hands found the curve of your chest, gently kneading them before your fingers began toying with your hardened peaks. Spencer’s eyes were fixated on your hands, his mouth hanging wide open and unabashedly moaning at the sight while accelerating the pace of his hand. 

Then suddenly, he stopped and got up from bed. Desperation was written all over his face when he looked at you. 

“Please,” he begged as he stepped closer. “I need to touch you.” 

It was everything you wanted right then, too. 

“I’m all yours, Spencer.” 

His mouth was on yours in an instant and he didn’t waste any time to move you over to the bed to push you onto the mattress. He followed quickly, towering over you as he kissed down your neck, making you moan in anticipation of what would follow. 

He moved further down your body, kissing and nipping on the tender flesh of your breasts before focusing his attention on your nipples. The sensation was almost unbearable and you could feel how your arousal began coating the insides of your thighs. 

Spencer smiled against your skin when he noticed you rocking your hips against his leg every so slightly. His confidence grew as he realized that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. 

“Needy,” he chuckled as he kissed down your stomach. “That’s cute.” 

Right then you couldn’t care less about being in charge, you just wanted to be taken care of. When his lips brushed over your inner thigh, you opened your legs further to give him better access. He lay down between your legs and didn’t waste any time before he began leaving feather light kisses against your folds. 

You watched as he licked his own lips, tasting your essence on them before he found your eyes. 

“You’re so wet,” he teased and let a finger move along your slit. “Is that all for me?” 

He expected a witty response, like you telling him to bring his mouth to good use for once. So it took him by surprise when you simply sighed, “Yes.” 

There was no more game to play. No more back and forth of who was in charge. It was just the two of you, equally as desperate to finally do what you both had been dreaming of for weeks.

“Good,” Spencer whispered, his hot breath tickling your core, before he finally granted you some relief. 

His tongue moved through your folds, collecting your taste before he focussed on your most sensitive spot. He experimented with different motions for a few moments, paying attention to your reactions until he found what you enjoyed the most. Your hand flew to his hair, your fingers intertwining with his curls to hinder him from moving away – even though he had no intention to do so, anyway. 

With one arm wrapped around your thigh he hindered you from bucking uncontrollably against his face while his other hand found your entrance, letting two fingers slip into you with ease. He moved with great precision, adjusting the angle and the pace according to your reactions, bringing you closer to your breaking point with every second passing. 

The sounds of your pleasure filled the room as you began dancing along the brink of euphoria. With just a few more skillful motions, he pushed you over it. Your walls pulsed around his fingers while your entire body shook. He worked you through your orgasm before he lay back down beside you, placing a gentle kiss against your lips. 

You were still panting when you found his eyes. The warm amber of his irises was almost completely swallowed by his pupils, the lust visible in his eyes contradicting the saccharine smile he showed you. 

“You okay?” he breathed as he wrapped one arm around your waist. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed while one of your hands moved down his body. 

Tentatively, you let your fingertips brush along his length, feeling his velvety skin under your touch. “Now what are we gonna do with you?” you purred as you wrapped your fingers tightly around him, making him gasp. 

With a torturously slow pace, you moved along his cock. “Tell me, Spencer. What do you want?” 

“I uhm…,” he audibly swallowed. “I have a condom in my pocket.” 

The fact that he brought a condom to your hotel room when he came over early amused you. He never had any intention of just talking to you. 

“So, you want to fuck me?” 

“Yes,” he admitted unabashedly. “If you want that, too, of course.”

With a nod you confirmed that that was exactly what you wanted as well. Right after you let go of him, he grabbed his pants from the floor to take out the foil wrapper. You watched as he ripped it open and carefully rolled down the condom. 

Then, he kneeled down between your legs, taking a moment to admire the beauty of the woman in front of him. 

“Come here,” you cooed and he leaned over you without hesitation. 

Reaching between your bodies, you guided him to your entrance. He closed his eyes when he slowly entered you, relishing the sensation of stretching you open inch by inch. When he was fully inside you, he kissed you before he began moving with slow thrusts.

Wrapping your legs around his hips, you brought him even closer. When he was sure that you could take it, he accelerated his pace, fucking you against the mattress until you were sure you would lose your mind. 

Spencer’s body began trembling and he suddenly stopped moving. 

“Sorry, I’m really close,” he whined and tried to pull out slightly. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded as you kept him in place with your legs around him. “Please, I need it.”

One of your hands moved down to where your bodies were joined to desperately draw circles around your little nub, making you clench hard around his hardness. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered as he began moving again. “I can’t, ah–” 

With just a few more deep thrusts Spencer came, his cock twitching inside you as his whole body shook. It was enough to throw you over edge too, entering a state of pure bliss together with him. After you had both come down from your high, you welcomed him inside your embrace, your fingertips gently dancing over his back as he caught his breath. 

For the sake of getting cleaned up you separated for a few moments, only to lay back down together soon after. A shaky breath fell from Spencer’s lips and caught your attention. 

“So…,” he began talking but didn’t continue. 

You propped yourself up on one elbow to find his eyes. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to ask if maybe–” 

“You want me to send you that pic again?” you interrupted him with a grin on your face. 

“No,” he laughed. “I mean… that’s not what I wanted to say.”

Still in a teasing mood, you snickered, “But you would like to see that pic again?”

“You know what,” he chuckled as he lifted the blanket to get a peek at your naked body. “I think I actually prefer this.”

“Good,” you chirped. “If you want to see more of me you’ll have to take me on a date though.”

Placing a soft kiss on your lips, he whispered, “Deal.”

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog and leave a comment to show your support and help me stay motivated to write more stories!

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[woollypoison]

Never odd or even

Male reader x Le Sserafim Kim Chaewon Word count: 10k

"It’s fifty-fifty. It either happens or it doesn’t."

You set your glass down on the table so hard it nearly cracks. "It is not fifty-fifty."

She shrugs—Chaewon’s quintessential uncaring attitude about anything you say—as she falls down into the couch. "But it is, though." She pops open another beer like she hasn’t had enough to drink already.

She always does this. Chooses some ridiculously wrong position to dig her heels in. Like if she just believes it to be true, the universe will bend to her will out of sheer exasperation. You should just ignore it, and just let her believe what she wants to believe. There really is no point to it with her. You drag a hand down your face, because you've been here before. You’re always here. There is a universe where you’ve been having this argument since the dawn of time. Monty Hall sits upon his cosmic throne and watches you suffer.

"You pick a door," she says, holding up one finger like she's making a serious mathematical point and not actively committing a crime against logic. "And then Monty—whoever the fuck he is—opens another door. And now there’s two left. So, you know. Fifty-fifty. You either win the prize or you don’t win shit."

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

And she still doesn’t care. If anything, she revels in your frustration, grinning and taking a lazy sip from her beer.

“I thought you liked your girls a little stupid,” she muses. You like Chaewon. Always have; since before her rejection and until now.

She might be onto something.

“That’s what I saw earlier at the club, anyway,” she mumbles, and it’s pointed, a sharp dagger concealed by a hushed voice.

You pay it no mind. It’s just Chaewon being Chaewon. Doing everything in her power to annoy the fuck out of you. You shake your head. “I like my girls with a basic understanding of probability.”

She hums, her gaze dragging over you, and it lingers. Long. Too long. So long it’s causing the alcohol induced haze to retreat from your brain. Then she just smiles again, takes another sip, and the buzz is back.

Chaewon stretches, arms flexed into a peak above her head, sliding against the backrest of the couch, her head landing against the armrest of the couch opposite of where you're sitting. Her legs stretch out off of the floor, her dress riding up, clinging to and stretching on her hips.

It’s a performance, designed to squeeze out resistance from any sap that would dare defy her. It’s impossible to tell if this is just Chaewon’s purest form, her instincts kicking in to naturally make any man submit, or if it’s a carefully crafted weapon, deliberately utilised and aimed with immaculate precision. Either way, it’s fucking lethal. Lace-trimmed thigh-high covered feet land in your lap, crossed. You glance down at them. Stifle a thought of fucking the exposed part of skin right below her dress and above her socks. Breathe out through your nose, annoyed.

She sees. She was waiting for you to see, to be more exact.

“What?” she asks, but she knows the answer. Feigning innocence, but the chances of it convincing you are slim. “Is the view not to your liking?”

You flick your eyes up to meet hers. Flat. Unamused. Stern. “Jesus, Chaewon.”

She cocks a half smile, hands up in the air like she’s being put under arrest but confident she can flirt her way out of it. “Relax. It’s just a joke.‘

Right. Just a joke. One she’s been playing at for far too long now. One you’re absolutely not in the mood for tonight. One that is quintessentially Chaewon. Mean. Sloppy. Reckless.

That’s what alcohol does to her. She gets all handsy and touchy and feely, disregarding any feelings or reservations you’d have about being touched meaninglessly by the girl that didn’t want you.

And the joke is not exclusive to you either. You’ve seen her like this before, with other guys. Hands on their shoulders and theirs on her hips, leaning in too close, laughing too loud. It’s just her usual mess. It doesn’t mean anything.

She’s warm, just warm enough that you can feel her through your clothes. But warm enough to make you fear the sparks could ignite something that shouldn’t be. Before you can have any more prohibited thoughts, you shift, trying to nudge her legs off of you.

She doesn’t budge. Deliberately. Straight up refuses to even acknowledge the attempt.

You sigh. “Get your legs off of me.”

Chaewon blinks at you, lashes fluttering faster than your heart can beat, her lips pouting— a poor substitute for saying she can’t believe you’d say that to someone this cute. She chuckles, transforms it into a smirk, and tilts her head.

“Make me.”

She presses the arch of her foot against your crotch. It’s right on target. Light. Testing. Provocating.

It’s impossible not to react. You could sit here, not do anything, let her rub your hardening cock through your pants a bit, enjoy the feeling of her getting you worked up. But that’s not what this is about. You know this pattern. As soon as you acknowledge it, it stops, and even if it didn’t, it would all be meaningless.

So you react. You grab her ankle, and shove her legs off of you.

She lets out a soft “oh,” before laughing, low and amused. She works herself back up right, shifting her legs underneath her, but she doesn’t look the slightest bit deterred. 

“Wow,” she mocks. “Sensitive.”

You roll your eyes, reaching for your drink. It’s water. Unlike Chaewon, you know when to quit, much to her annoyance. “Stop being weird and focus.”

“I am focused!” she retorts, all tension and energy. “Are you focused?” she says finally, slow, saccharine, like honey that's taking its sweet time to drip from a spoon into your mouth. “Not too distracted by how fuckable I look in this dress?”

You don’t acknowledge it. Again, no point. You set your glass down with a deliberate clink— any noise to replace what she just asked—then reach for three random objects on the coffee table; her phone, a book, and a coaster.

“We’re settling this tonight.”

She puts her beer back on the table, folds her hands in her lap, and sits with her whole body pointed at you. She shakes her body loose with slight movements. Then, slowly, she smiles.

“Please,” she says, voice sultry and teasing. “Teach me a lesson, professor.”

You’ve probably explained the theory to Chaewon more times than there are episodes of the show that inspired the discussion. It’s time for a practical run-through. You grab the three nearest things you can find and leave standing upright to function as make-shift doors—your phone, your glass of water, and a book Chaewon has been quipping from for the past month, How to Date Men When You Hate Men—and you form a neat row of three. “Let’s drill it into your skull. Three doors. One has a prize. Pick one.”

And for all the effort you put in, she barely looks. Eyes on you, finger pointing in a different direction. “The book.”

“Right, and that was a random choice out of three, meaning—”

“That I was either right or I was wrong. Fifty-fifty.” She shrugs, and shuts the door on this method of having her understand.

She’s perfectly frustrating. “it’s not fifty-fifty—”

She shifts the opposite way from her previous slide, her head landing in your lap. Her cheek rests against your thigh, and her provocation pokes at your heart. She gazes up at you, lashes fluttering a hypnotic rhythm. “This is more comfortable. Keep going.”

How could you?

“Chaewon.”

She hums, but she doesn’t acknowledge your protest. “What? Does having a cute girl’s face this close to your dick make you nervous?”

Ignore it. If you acknowledge it, it only gets worse. You push it down, she’ll eventually grow bored, and as long as the boulder doesn’t slip from your hands, you’ll be done with this forever. “Okay, so now, Monty—”

“You’re looking a little serious,” she muses, herself looking anything but. “Would you look like that while getting head? All furrowed brows, all focused?” Her lips curve deviously like the curveballs she’s throwing you. “Or would you be more relaxed? I can go deep, you know. No need to worry about me.”

Every cell in your body is telling you to push back, take her up on what she’s offering, and let her ruin this night. But you know. You’d get your hopes up, but she’d just call it a silly joke. Keep ignoring it. She’ll get bored.

You take a slow breath. Slow down your rhythm. “Are you done? Monty opens a door that isn’t the prize. That leaves two doors with potential. Your first pick was only right one-third of the time, so if you switch—”

“Aaaah.” Her mouth opens, tongue peeking out like a landing strip, eyes fluttering shut like she’s waiting for you to shove your cock inside.

That’s it.

You shove her off, not rough, but firm, standing up from the couch you might have sunk in immediately. “Can you cut it the fuck out?”

She’s back upright, giggling, back landing against the couch, legs curled beneath her. “What’s wrong? Blood rushing away from your head?”

“Do you ever stop?”

Her arms stretch over her head again, and you’re starting to see a pattern with the way her dress is stretching against her hips. “Not when I’m having fun.”

It’s maddening. Talking with Chaewon is selecting a door, continuing to talk with her is being shown the wrong door and choosing to take it willingly. “You really don’t care how frustrating you make the Monty Hall problem, do you?”

She smirks. She must think she has it all figured out. “I already told you. Either something happens, or it doesn’t. Fifty-fifty, dude.”

“That’s really not how probability works.”

“That’s how life works.”

You shake your head, and accompany it with an equally disappointed sigh. “You just don’t want to admit when you’ve made the wrong choice.”

She stills, and it’s eerie. It shouldn’t have happened. Then, like a mask slipping back, she recovers with a sly grin. “Or maybe I just like my way better.”

Before you can argue, she makes her move, getting up, pressing against your arm, chest squishy, warm and deliberate against you. “But you can explain it to me as many times as you want.”

She’s impossible. “Chaewon—”

And she leaves no room for response. “Go on,” she purrs, pushing her tits smush against your bicep, molding around the way your muscles tense. “Teach me.”

Your patience and her dress have one thing in common. They’re both razor-thin. “I mean it.”

She hums, and she smiles, and she’s convinced you’re going to give in any second now. “Not a fan anymore of me touching you?” Her voice drops, all warmth and provocation. “Would you rather reverse the roles, have you touch me? Be careful. I’m sensitive.”

Your fingers wrap around her wrist, pulling it high with a firm and stern motion. “Cut it out.”

She clicks her tongue, and scowls in return. The joke is over, and you ruined her fun. “You liked it plenty when that slut at the club was all over you.”

“That’s different,” you say, your jaw tightening up. She knows it is, and it’s not fair. Does she think she can get away with it just because you’ve got a thing for her? Or, used to have, you try to convince yourself.

She’s so clearly unimpressed it’s almost hurtful. It wasn’t a lie though. It was different, that girl at the club never tore your heart out. But none of that matters when Chaewon wants to have her fun. She scoffs. “Must’ve been nice. You didn’t even flinch when she touched you. Just leaned into her, didn’t push her away like you do with me.”

You don’t answer. You let go of her wrist, sit back down, unsure what to make if anything yourself. You could have gone home with ‘that slut’. Had a great evening. Instead, you’re here, keeping your promise to Chaewon that you’d make sure she got home safe, wasting another night on a girl that should have long been in your past already.

That same girl plants both her knees next to yours on the couch, dress creeping above her hips, exposing the slightest hint of black and lace panties straddling your lap, settling against you.

You hate how right she feels here.

She rocks her hips down, just slightly, just testing the waters. And like an experienced professional, the joke’s back on. “You sure you don’t want to have a little fun?”

Your hands clamp around her waist—not pulling her closer. Pushing her off.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t resist. Just concedes as the distance grows.

“Come on,” she murmurs, trying to make sense of it all. “You used to love looking at me.”

Your arm extends fully, pushing her as far as your body allows. “That was a long time ago.”

She lets out a small scoff, more hurt than the lost one, finally relenting and shifting off your lap. The joke is no longer fun for anyone in this room.

You just have to bite the bullet. Separate her from yourself, let the alcohol fade from her system and figure out what to do after that. “Go to bed,” you exhale sharply, a forced sense of finality in your voice. “I’ll sleep here, and be gone before you wake up.”

Chaewon stares at you like you just suggested the unthinkable. Her eye twitches, a habit you’ve long learned to associate with her being so upset that something is going to break. Then, she exhales sharper than you did, standing up. “Fine. Whatever.”

She turns, stomping toward her bedroom, her pumps exploding with sound every step of the way. “It’s still fucking fifty-fifty, by the way!” she yells, right before she slams the door.

It’s suddenly silent. Silent enough to hear your heartbeat going crazy.

She’ll calm down soon enough. Hopefully.

The heat of her body still burns against you, scorching where she was pressed against you. But if you ran after her now, you’d get burned alive. You rub your hands down your face, sinking into the couch, staring into the ceiling as you mentally prepare for what’s bound to be a sleepless night. There’s no escaping those as long as Chaewon is a part of your life.

-

Sleep doesn’t come.

You want to blame it on the horrible way this couch is digging into your back. Or the sounds of the city being ever present. Or the dim glow of some street lights seeping into the living room through Chaewon’s curtains that never managed to fully close. But comfort isn’t the issue.

It’s your damn mind, that can’t shut the fuck up.

Too many thoughts, all tangled together like a string of memories that wrapped around itself far too many times. Her hands, her voice, her weight in your lap. Her unusually prickly temper, and her enhanced sloppiness.

It all feels too fucking familiar, and the moment you admit that, there’s no holding it back.

It started as a night much like this one. You and Chaewon, at her place, sitting too close for friends but too far apart for lovers. Laughing at everything and nothing. Drinking just enough to make the lines blur. You had thought—maybe. Hopefully.

And for a moment, you know, you had been right. It seemed like the kind of night you’d eventually be able to tell your kids about. An edited version, to cut out the once-in-a-lifetime pounding you intended to give her, but still, magical in its own way. 

The way she let you kiss her. The way she kissed you back. The way her eyelashes fluttered to pull you into the kiss. How her left thigh rode up yours. The way her fingers locked behind the nape of your neck. The way you told her you liked her.

Then the way she pulled back. The hesitation in her eyes. The way her voice broke when she said “I don’t think we should do this.”

The way a crack formed on your heart, barely being pushed together by the rest of your more logical organs as you forced yourself to nod and agree, to act like it was fine. Like you were fine. Like you hadn’t just managed to secure the right door, only to be forced to step into the wrong one.

And the way your heart formed a second crack when you saw her again. She was still the same. Still Chaewon. Like nothing had happened.

But something did happen to you.

Your phone buzzes.

It’s not easy to ignore. Chaewon is an addiction to you, the next hit of this sweet obsession entering your veins as your screen lights up.

Chaewon: You awake??

You know you should just be failing at sleeping again. This can only lead to misery.

You: Yeah.

It’s quiet for a bit, but a new message makes its way to you all the same.

Chaewon: Cant sleep

If only she knew how she cursed you with the same fate. If not for her you’d be sound asleep in your own bed right now, or even better, in the bed of that chick you met at the club. What did she say her name was again? Kazuha? Instead, you’re here, repeating old patterns with exhausted probability.

You: That sucks.

Your answers are curt. Too perfect with punctuation for your usual back and forth. She doesn’t respond right away. She might be stubborn and annoying about things she’s convinced she’s right about, but she’s never been oblivious.

Then:

Chaewon: Are we okay?

You’re upset, but not heartless. It tugs.

You: We’re fine, Chaewon

Chaewon: Thats not a yes…

You might just scream out of frustration, your phone dropping on your chest, but obviously you can’t. She’d hear. She’s impossible. So fucking stupidly impossible. And yet, you find yourself typing anyway.

You: Do you want me to lie?

The pause is longer this time. Should you feel bad or just so tired that it doesn’t matter anymore?

Chaewon: No Chaewon: IdkChaewon: I just get nervous when ur like this

You: Like what??

Chaewon: DistantChaewon: CarefulChaewon: Upset with me

Your fingers hover over the keyboard without action. She’s not wrong. You are being careful. It’s her fault. She’d break your heart a second time in less time it took for it to beat. That’s dangerous.

You: Idk what you want me to say Chaewon

Chaewon: Idk either…Chaewon: But I miss how we used to talk

The memories flood in of the two of you just shooting the shit, countless evenings. Still…

You: We’re talking now.

Chaewon: U know thats not what i meant

And she’s right. You do know, but this is just easier. For you, for her. For the both of you.

Chaewon: Cant you just come over here and talk w me?

Chaewon: I miss you…

And before you can even overthink it—

You move.

-

There is a thought that creeps into your mind as the door creaks open and you step into her room. Something about a lion’s den, and then another one following it up about it actually being the lionesses that do the hunting. There’s no point to it. They all fade in an instant. She’s no huntress right now. She’s vulnerable, like prey, enticing you to be the hunter, looking so ready to be pounced on; curled up beneath her blankets, only the soft shape of her against the sheets to lure you in.

“Hey.” It’s a solid way to start a conversation, but you can’t help but expect more from her after calling you in.

You nod, eyes fleeing from hers, shifting awkwardly by the door. “Hey.”

It takes a while before you move. The same goes for her. She’s squinting, her eyes getting used to the darkness. She’s always been stubborn about letting you help her get a blue light filter on her phone.

She finally stops, and for a moment, your eyes meet hers. She carries a soft smile, the kind that made you fall for her in the first place. But there’s a difference in it; barely perceptible; most definitely flown under the radar by people not so obsessed with her face. There’s precaution sewn into it. The sides of her smile are constantly shifting and trembling, like she doesn’t know whether to keep it there or to switch to a more neutral expression. Then, she shifts, her left arm pulling out from under the cover and tapping the sheets next to her, an unspoken invitation.

You sit down with a sigh, back turned towards her. You’re not far, but you’re not close either. A safe distance, you think to yourself. The mood isn’t tense, but also not comfortable. Just… unsure.

You can hear her laps part, exhale, almost say something, and then close again a couple of times. It’s not until you finally turn to face her that she speaks.

“Do you remember that summer at the beach?”

Your eyebrows raise on instinct, disbelief unmistakably painted across your face, impossible not to notice, not even in this darkness. “How could I forget?”

The muscles on her face relax as her eyes drift away from your eyes, seemingly getting lost into her pillow, which she clutches tight. “You remember how you were so worried about me you gave me a piggyback ride back to the house?”

“No,” you scoff, “I remember you guilt tripping me into carrying your soaking wet ass across the sand.” Your face turns away from her again, hands clutching the side of the bed as your eyes veer off into the distance past the window; letting the glass serve as a canvas to project your memories onto.

You hear the sheets rustle behind you as she works herself upright, before reminding you exactly why you helped her back then in the first place. “You weren’t complaining back then! You were way too busy copping a feel of my ass.”

“Okay, now that’s not fair,” you snap back much too fast, much too flustered. “I wasn’t copping a feel, I was keeping you from falling. And besides, you weren’t helping either! Just hanging there all limp, mumbling you’d never be able to walk again.”

“I mean, it just hurt so bad. That jellyfish really fucked me up,” she chuckles back, and you can feel the pressure of her back leaning against yours.

There’s a soft silence, the one drenched in feelings you’d much rather stay in, instead of moving on to an uncomfortable reality. So you keep painting, hoping the window holds your memory-scape just a little longer.

“Do you remember what we kept talking about? To keep your mind off of the pain?”

You can tell she knows in the way she responds with an “Oh my god.”

Both of you say it at the same time.

“The fucking Monty Hall problem!”

There’s a beat of silence. First it’s a chuckle. It turns into laughter, and it quickly grows uncontrolled, unstoppable. The kind that makes the memories seem brighter, makes your body feel lighter, the kind that makes you throw your head back as she does hers. You both open your eyes staring at the roof, now sharing the same canvas to display footage of past days.

“God,” you breathe, your head locked in place but your eyes drifting over towards her face. “I miss those days.”

She giggles, nose scrunching. “I don’t miss what that jellyfish did to me.”

The laughter fades, and you think that maybe, just maybe you could forget about earlier and go to bed without feeling like shit. You shift, and she does too, turning towards her as she moves back to her original spot, leaning against the headrest, crawling underneath the blankets with her legs.

Your breath catches as you look at her. Your stomach turns. “Chaewon.”

She blinks, glancing up at you. “Hmm?”

“Did you—” You inhale sharply, but you can’t afford to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Did you seriously invite me in here just to talk un-dressed like that?”

Her brows furrow. Then she follows your gaze, shifting slightly, and—

Fuck.

Black lace, delicate, thin. Your favorite.

She freezes. "Oh."

Oh? Fucking oh?

“Why the fuck are you like this?” you explode.

Her eyes widen. "No! I—" She scrambles, tugging the blanket back up over herself. “I wasn’t—” “You said you wanted to talk, Chaewon.”

“I do!” Her voice pitches up. She’s pulling the sheets up hurriedly, using them as a shield from you, all you can see is her cheeks changing color ever so slightly. This time because of the embarrassment instead of the alcohol. “I promise… I do…”

It’s hard to believe that. It’s all so familiar, and all so fucking frustrating. “You know, this is just like you to do,” you ramble, and it’s hard to stop once you get going. “Always so fucking obsessed with getting a reaction out of me, never stopping to think for a second about how I feel!”

Her face softens, and the way she looks at you makes you sick. Like she thinks you’re right. “That’s not—”

“Isn’t it?”

“I swear!” She shouts, looking panicked and it’s enough to finally get you to shut up. “I was still out of it all, too mad and too drunk when I got back here. I just wanted to sleep. I didn’t—” and a big, shallow breath interrupts her, the kind that just appears and leaves you with less air than before. “I wasn’t thinking, okay?” You want to believe her. But tonight has been too much. Too many provocations, too many lines blurring that she would turn back from, and in turn, you would let form scars.

Then you sigh, sitting back down. “Okay.”

“Are you…” her voice trembles as she tries to figure out the specifics of your answer. “You’re shaking. Are you mad?”

Your mind is still trying to slow down, and answering gets forgotten. She takes that as an answer, obviously. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not so mad that I’d be shaking, you idiot.” Your voice is quiet. “It’s just way too fucking cold in here. And I was thinking.”

There’s no hesitation, because that’s just how Chaewon is as she shifts, making room. “Get under the covers.”

“Chaewon, please—” you start, but she’s not having it.

“I won’t try anything, okay? I promise,” she interrupts you, sounding calmer already. There’s a touch of pleading in it, but not the whiny kind she uses to get you worked up. It’s more desperate, more real. “Just give me a chance to prove I’m being serious.”

You don’t move at first. Stubbornness is inherent to both of you, after all. She tugs on the sheets impatiently. You sigh, but it’s obviously performative, a last jab at her to let her know you’re only doing this just because you’re cold. And she wasn’t lying. She properly keeps her distance, just sharing the warmth of the bed. It’s immediate and comforting, but you don’t allow yourself to sink into it.

“See?” she murmurs. “Not a trap.”

Not yet. You don’t dare say it, but you don’t have to. She sees the thoughts in your eyes. So she shuffles, turning away from you.

The silence stretches so long you start focusing on the noises it can’t beat into submission. Your breathing. Her breathing. The creaking and crumpling sound of the bed and the sheets as you move.

“I wanted to talk, and we talked so… that’s—that’s good. I guess,” she whispers. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind talking some more.” She lets a little space in between for you to insert yourself into. You never do. “But if you’d rather pretend like I’m not here, I get that too. I’ll shut up.”

It’s endearing, and your response is a little mean, letting her wait in silence for just a little longer before replying. “I’m not pretending. I need somebody to blame the lack of space I have in this bed.”

She smiles, soft. You can’t see it, obviously, but you feel it. Somehow. She shifts under the blanket, closer but not touching. She’s apprehensive. And she meant what she said.

“Is this the first time we’ve slept in the same bed?” she asks, but she masks her tone enough that she could play it off as talking to herself if you decided to not respond.

“Nope,” you correct her. “There was that one time in sophomore year. You showed up at my door at, like, three in the morning. Absolutely shitfaced, mind you.”

She lets out a small, embarrassed groan, and you know you’re on the right track.

“I remember that,” she mumbles. “Barely.”

“You couldn’t figure out how to get to your dorm. Said not even Monty Hall could help you find the right door.”

“How do you remember all that?” Chaewon questions, like you had no right to have that memory.

“Are you kidding me? How could I forget? I told you to take my bed, and that I was gonna crash on the couch,” you continue explaining, your lips curling upwards.

“But I didn’t let you?”

“Nope. You didn’t trust my roommate worth shit. Which, fair.”

She doesn’t say anything. You keep going though, less for her alone or you alone, both for you both.

“You grabbed my wrist when I tried to walk away. Looked me dead in the eye and said, and I quote, ‘Don’t leave me alone with that guy here, he smells like crusty socks and assault.’”

Chaewon lets out a strangled sound that’s half mortified laugh, half groan. “Oh my God.”

“So I gave in. Got in bed next to you. Fully clothed. On top of the covers. Like a gentleman.”

“You didn’t sleep for a second that night, did you?”

“Of course not. You starfished. One arm across my chest, one leg thrown over me like a fucking seatbelt. You had me trapped, dead to rights. Didn’t help you made me paranoid that my roommate was actually going to do something.”

She laughs—really laughs. Warm, unguarded. Then she rolls onto her side, facing you again. Her eyes search yours. "It was easier, wasn’t it? Back then. In college. At the beach. You carrying me like an idiot, me acting like I couldn’t walk, and you trying to turn probability into a personality trait."

You laugh, but it’s not really a laugh. More like one of those nose breaths that accompanies an abbreviated text. “Because it was.”

Her smile fades. “You never needed me to ask. You always just… stayed.”

You shift slightly, your fingers brushing the edge of the blanket. Her eyes drop there, then rise again.

“I think I’m a leaver,” she says. No warning. No lead-in. Like she had to say it fast before she lost the nerve.

“What?” It leaves your mouth before you can even blink.

But Chaewon swallows, her eyes retreating downwards. “I think that’s just who I am. Some people stay, and some people leave. You’re the kind of person that stays, and I’m a person that leaves. Because if I go first, I don’t have to wait until you become a leaver just like me.”

She looks at you like she’s afraid you’ll flinch. Like she’s already bracing for the recoil.

“I know it’s selfish,” she adds quickly. “But that night… when you kissed me, and then said you really liked me—I panicked. I did what I always do. You were giving me a choice, and that scared the hell out of me. So I picked the choice I always make.”

She breathes in. Exhales slow. Really takes her time, her eyes drifting slightly upwards now.

“And for a while, I told myself it was just another fifty-fifty. You know? Just a game of chance I lost. You either leave or get left. You either lose something or end up lost. And I thought—" she breaks off, swallowing again, part of her voice getting swallowed with it, "—that it would go away like the rest. That I’d forget. That it’d stop mattering."

You stay quiet.

“But it didn’t. It stuck. You stuck.”

She shifts again, knee brushing against yours beneath the blanket. Her voice cracks a little.

“And I started noticing things,” she says. "Little things. Like the first time you didn’t wait for me to text goodnight. Or when you were with someone else and you had that smile that I thought was reserved for me. Or when you stopped arguing with me about dumb shit just to keep talking."

Her voice wavers.

“And then I realized I didn’t just pick wrong. I watched the right door shut. And then I heard it lock. And that’s why I know your stupid fucking Monty Hall problem is wrong. I should’ve had another shot. Another choice. But life didn’t open a wrong door—it just took the right one away. And that’s why I know it’s just fifty-fifty. And I lost my coin toss at happiness.”

There’s a second of silence where your brain short circuits.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you mutter.

She blinks, but it helps her to finally look at you. “Ouch?”

You sit up, tossing the blanket off like it offended you. “No, I’m serious. You think my door shut? You fucking locked it.”

She opens her mouth, but you cut her off, your pace quickening. “The fact that I stayed around all this time is proof enough that my door is still unlocked. It wasn’t up to me to reopen that door.” “I—” “But you had to try.” Chaewon’s eyes flicker—not away, but deeper. Her breath hitches, and you swear it’s the first real sound she’s made in a while that didn’t have a smirk behind it. She shifts forward just slightly, only enough that her leg brushes against yours again, like she’s testing if the signal’s still green.

“You’re saying… it’s still open?”

You drag a hand through your hair, eyes rolling ceilingward before locking onto her again. “It was never fucking closed.”

Her lips part. They’re trembling now. She’s not teasing this time. “Then why—why didn’t you ever—”

“Because I’m not gonna beg,” you cut in, sharper than intended. “I’m not gonna crawl through the fucking keyhole when you slammed the door in my face.”

She flinches. Just barely. But enough.

“I didn’t need you to beg, just…” she says, softer, like she’s going over the math again in her head. “I don’t know… I—” Her voice dips, trails, then steadies. “I’m here now. I’m trying.”

You look at her. Clear as day in the middle of the night. She's curled up next to you, defensive and ashamed and stubborn all at once. Her eyes are too glossy, her hands fidgeting with the edge of the comforter like they’re looking for somewhere to hide.

And then she breathes, and her voice breaks.

“I just wanted you to want me still.”

And that? That fucking cracks something open.

You reach for her—no grand gestures, no cinematic swoop—just firm, necessary motion. You cradle her jaw, fingers sweeping her hair back, and when you speak, it’s low and final and absolutely everything you’ve been holding back.

“I never fucking stopped.”

There’s no pause this time.

No “but what if—”

No “are you sure—”

No more fucking Monty Hall.

Just her lips crashing into yours, messily, hungrily, like the apology she couldn’t say and the forgiveness you weren’t ready to offer have decided to cancel each other out with tongue.

It’s not careful. It’s not gentle.

It’s honest.

She’s on your lap again, only this time it’s not a joke. Her knees bracket your thighs and she grinds down with purpose, gasping when she feels you through your boxers. Her hands slide beneath your shirt, nails catching skin, and you curse under your breath as heat swells in your gut, undeniable and urgent.

You break the kiss, forehead against hers. “Still cold?”

Her laugh is shallow, much too distracted with making sure she can properly share in your body heat. “Yeah. Make me warm.”

“And here I was thinking you were hot enough as is.”

She smirks, and it’s real this time. Like the one you saw when you barely knew her, but knew enough already. Not a mask. Not a trap. Just her.

And she whispers, “Don’t stop this time.”

Like you could. Besides, you’re not even sure it’s only meant for you. With the way she’s tugging and removing your clothes, kissing your shoulders and pulling you tighter, it’s like she’s making up for lost time. For every second spent being careful. Your hands trace her body, taking your time to really make sure every curve and beauty mark is stuck in your mind forever.

“God,” you mumble under your breath, pressing your lips to her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, working your way down until you’re kissing the edge of a black lace bra that was almost the reason you stormed off earlier. “I can’t believe how beautiful you really are.”

Her breath hitches. “I know.”

And you’ve missed that, too. Her confidence. The way she can say things like that without irony, because she knows exactly what she’s worth—she just never thought she’d be worth it to you once more.

You kiss her through the black lace, and she shivers when you nip at the edge of her bra, as close to her nipple as you can get. She doesn’t waste any time herself flicking open the button of your jeans. You’ve always thought she needed a helping hand, both of yours pushing your pants further down. They’re not even off properly when she pauses, eyes blown wide, honing in on the tent in your boxers leaving little to imagination.

“Wow,” she says, and it’s almost weird to hear her say it without sarcasm.

“Wow?” your voice is rough, coming out in a single breath.

She nods, and her lips part as she yanks your boxers down, eyes almost dazed as she takes you in. “Wow.”

It’s a reverent look. It’s a look that suits her as long as it’s directed towards you, you think. Her fingers reach out like she’s about to wrap them around you, but she stops right before she makes contact, and the look in her eyes changes. Smug now. Knowing.

“I need a moment,” she says, and you know she’s up to no good. “You can’t just swing that in a girl's face and expect me to make it easy for you.”

A throb shoots through your cock, hips twitching without your consent. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

But she just smirks.

“Chaewon.”

“Shhh,” she says as she shuts down any and all protest, and her voice is the perfect combination of exasperating and enticing. “I’ve got my own Monty Hall problem lined up for you.”

You groan, but it’s more of a plea for mercy than a protest. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m serious,” she purrs, fingers grazing the base of your cock before pulling back again, making you hiss.

“Three doors,” she says, and the way she looks at you is obscene. “My front door, my back door, and my... ehm... mouth door?”

You’re gone. You’re fucking gone. “You are so lucky you're fucking hot.”

She keeps going, relentless. Her grin is pure mischief. “Which one have I imagined you fucking me with the most?” She rolls her hips, testing you. “Pick right, and you get to fuck it.”

“And if I guess wrong?” Your voice is rough, needy, everything you never let her hear before tonight.

Her eyes burn. “Then you eat me out first.”

It’s a rigged game and you both know it, but you play along anyway, letting her set the rules and stack the deck and deal each card. You lean forward, drag your lips up the line of her jaw. “That’s an impossible choice. You want all of them.”

She moans, a hiccup of laughter and want, and the weight of her shifts in your lap, urgent. “You wish. You only get one.”

But her hips are grinding now, a rolling, deliberate pressure that tells you exactly what her body needs. The answer is and always has been: every option, at once, and all of them leading back to you.

You palm her ass, fingers splaying underneath the lace edge, and the way she shivers tells you she wasn’t expecting you to touch her with that kind of certainty. For all her bravado and gamesmanship, this is how you win: you move first, and you don’t hesitate.

“Let’s see,” you murmur, mouth against the shell of her ear, making her gasp. “Back door—” a squeeze, a knead that pulls a little yelp from her, “—doesn’t seem like your style. At least not as a first move.”

“Don’t count me out,” she breathes, and you hear the competitive edge in her voice, the same edge that made her stay up all night just to prove you wrong about some irrelevant, beautiful, dumb thing.

You laugh, slow and low, and she shakes against you. “Mouth door,” you say, and you can’t help but grin at the way she’s already licking her lips, hungry, needing to prove something. “Obvious contender. But I think you want it right here.” Your hand finds the heat between her legs, cups her through those ridiculous panties, and her eyes go wide, her breath gone.

You wait a beat. She’s never been great at waiting, but she’s trembling now, lips parted, waiting for your verdict.

“And if I told you it’s definitely not the back door? Does your answer change?” she pants.

You consider your odds. “I think—” you start, but she interrupts.

“Actually,” she says, and the way her voice drips with satisfaction is almost enough to make you lose. “I don’t give a fuck. I want your cock. Right here.”

She grinds against you, and you can’t help but think you’re never spending another day without that feeling.

“Fuck,” you groan, because she won this round, and she knows it. “You don’t play fair.”

She bites her lip, smiling, then reaches between you, fingers wrapping around you with a perfect, firm pressure. “And that’s why you love me.”

She’s right. She’s wrong about so many fucking things, but she’s right about this.

You thrust up into her hand, and she moans, her body arching, her hair falling down her back. You reach for her hips, hooking your thumbs under the lace, and she lifts herself up, letting you pull it down, off, away. She doesn’t care where it lands; she’s already lowering herself back onto you, and you’re closing the distance, guiding your cock to her needy cunt.

“Fuck you,” you breathe, so close to her you can taste it, the subtext of admission against her skin. “I’m not saying it first. I’ll force you to.”

She rocks her hips, taking you deeper, her breath catching with a shudder. “Yeah? You think you can make me?”

You grit your teeth, the friction of her tight around you making it almost impossible to think. “I know I can.”

“Big words,” she gasps, riding you faster, harder. “Think you can back them up?”

You reach between you, your thumb finding her clit, and she cries out, her whole body shaking, her walls clenching around you. “You first,” you growl, and you can tell she’s sensitive. “Say it.”

Her eyes roll back, her lower lip caught between her teeth. You know it, you have her dead to rights, this is your win, and then—”Nuh-uh.”

You thrust up into her, relentless, and the pressure builds, mounting, and she’s so fucking tight around you, and you want her to say it, need her to say it.

She grinds down harder, her nails dragging your shoulder blades, and it’s too much. Too good. Too fucking hot. “You’re gonna say it,” you gasp, your thumb circling her clit faster. “I know you.”

“And I know you,” she pants, her head falling back as she rides you with abandon, her whole body trembling, her breath hitching with every thrust. “I know—oh fuck—you.”

You watch her face as she rocks against you, her lips parting, her eyes wide and desperate and defiant. She’s so close. So close you can feel it, the way she’s fighting it, wanting to hold out, wanting to win.

“Say it,” you growl, thrusting up into her again, harder, not easing up on her clit.

She gasps, and this has to be it. She’s trembling, tightening, drowning in ecstasy and she’s— “I’m—Fuck, I’m cumming, you fucker,” she manages to choke out, and she cums hard. Her head drops forward, no further admission, still no winner as her whole body shudders, her walls clenching around you like she’s weaponizing her orgasm against you, trying to pull the words from you.

You swear, a rough sound that’s almost a surrender, and she laughs, breathless, smug, still shaking in your lap. “You first.”

Your grip tightens on her hips, and you’re so fucking close, but you hold on, hold out, your breath ragged. “I’m not going to give up,” you groan, thrusting up into her in a wild frenzy, loud clapping of flesh colliding now strangling the room. She lets out a strangled sound, and her eyes go wide letting you know she didn’t expect this.

Didn’t expect you to only go harder, to keep fucking her through her orgasm, keep pushing her over the edge again and again and again until she might pass out.You thrust harder, deeper, and her voice breaks, her body wild against yours.

You hold on, and she holds on longer. She’s so tight, so wet, and the heat is building, and you feel her clench around you, feel her mold to your shape. Her mouth opens, and you can’t tell if she’s about to say it or if she’s too far gone, and then—

She pulls off of you. You watch, stunned, as she drops to her knees and wraps her mouth around your cock, and the sight alone is enough to make you lose it. You groan, a deep, ragged sound, and she moans around you, the vibration pushing you over the edge. Your hands tangle in her hair as you come, hot and hard, spilling ropes of cum into her mouth.

���Fuck, Chaewon,” you choke out, the last of your breath leaving your body as every drop of cum you had does the same, her lips still tight around you.

Then she pulls back, and her eyes are on you, wide and bright and triumphant. She cups a hand beneath her chin, opens her mouth, and—

“I love you,” she says, letting your cum spill out over her lips, and there’s a laugh behind it, a tremor of amusement, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. Like she knows she just won all over again. She wipes her mouth, cum streaking her chin, her neck, her chest, and she looks so absurdly beautiful you can’t even be mad.

“Chaewon,” you breathe. It’s exasperation and wonder, the way you’ve said her name so many times before. “You’re fucking impossible.”

“Really?” She bats her lashes with a coy look, licking her lips like she’s savoring every last drop of the chaos she’s caused. “Aren’t you supposed to say it back?”

You grab her by the waist, pulling her back up to straddle you past your softened cock, and she giggles, squirming in your lap. “You’re such a fucking brat.”

“And you can’t get enough of it,” she teases, her smile widening,

You stare at her, chest heaving, the words settling into the spaces that were empty for so long. Then you let out a breathless, helpless laugh, pulling her face up to yours, kissing her despite all the filth she let drip out to cover her sweetness.

“Fuck you,” you say between kisses, but there’s no heat behind it, just the weight of relief and joy and everything else you’ve been holding back. “How do you win even when you lose?”

She smiles against your mouth, and you feel it in every part of you. “I guess I’m just smarter than you.”

You do. You say it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like you’ve spent the last year waiting for your chance.

“I love you, you idiot.”

She makes a soft sound, and for a second you think she might cry, but it’s just a laugh, bright and giddy and so fucking happy. “I’m glad you do.”

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” you say as you shake your head, trying to hide the cartoonishly large smile she forced upon your face. “And you’re stuck with me,” she says, kissing you again, her body melting into yours, all softness and satisfaction. Her voice dips, teasing, warm. “Or did you forget?”

“Never,” you murmur, and you mean it. Hell, you’d bet on it.

Her body shifts in response, her being melting into you, her skin sticky but hot against yours. “So,” she says, and it’s light and breezy like that summer day still stuck in your memory, like you’re somehow back in a familiar rhythm, but new nonetheless. “You really think you can handle me?”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around her. “I’ve been handling you for years without the benefit of getting to fuck you.”

She pinches your side, but it’s playful, and you can tell she’s trying not to smile. “Asshole.”

“Yeah,” you say, kissing her forehead. “But I’m your asshole, now.”

She nods, and that alone was worth all the suffering. Because it’s honest.

“Shit,” Chaewon breathes, your skin stuck together with dried cum, pulling loose from you. “We’re a fucking mess.”

“Yeah, well, it’s your fault for trying to be funny,” you say like you’re not covered in it too.

She shakes her head, and it’s like she’s saying it’s your fault for not being the first to say you love her. “We can’t go to bed like this,” she proclaims, trying her best not to get too much filth on her sheets. “C’mon. Shower.”

“Together?” you ask, and she just rolls her eyes like that was the stupidest fucking question you’ve ever asked.

You follow her to the bathroom, the air chilly and the tile cool underfoot. She turns on the water of her shower, letting it heat up as she looks back over at you, one eyebrow lifting like she’s pondering if she should just keep it to showering or not.

“Get in,” she says, pushing you towards the shower. “I’m not letting you sleep until you’re clean.”

She’s already stepping toward the shower when she realizes you’re still standing there. Her eyes narrow, but her lips curve. “What? You’re dawdling now?”

You shrug, and she laughs. It’s not the sound she makes when she’s trying to get under your skin, but the one you’d almost forgotten she could make. Uncomplicated. Real.

She starts taking off the only thing she still has on—her thigh high socks that were the main culprit in why you failed to pick up a girl earlier tonight. You were way too busy admiring how good Chaewon looked, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t tell me you’re expecting me to do it for—”

You catch her hand, stop her from peeling them off. She freezes, looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

“Let’s pretend I lost your three doors challenge,” you murmur, and you hear her breath catch. “It’d be a shame not to eat you out with how good you look in those.”

“So you were staring! I fucking knew it,” she shouts gleefully.

You don’t give it a response. You just hoist her up, and she wraps her legs around you like it’s instinct, gasping, more eager than surprised, as you let her ass meet the bathroom counter. You spread her thighs open to admire, sink to your knees in between them, and look up, getting lost in the way she looks down.

“Oh my god,” she sighs out. “Are you really—”

 You don’t let her finish. You drag your tongue up her slit, and her head falls back, the sound of the shower almost drowning out her moan. Almost, but not quite.

“Fuck,” she gasps, the first of many. “Right there. Oh, right—”

You swirl your tongue around her clit, and her hips buck, her whole body trembling. She’s close already, too close, and you know you could end this in seconds, but you don’t. Not yet.

Your hand slides up her thigh, and she shudders as you press a finger against her asshole, teasing, gentle. Her breath catches, and you feel her body tense, then relax, opening for you.

“Shit,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”

You don’t stop. You don’t even slow down. You work her with your tongue and your fingers and your everything, and she’s shaking.

“Holy fuck,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “You’re—shit—you’re better at this than explaining math problems.”

You groan, a low, rough sound, and the vibration makes her shudder. “Careful, I might bite.”

She laughs, knowing you’re all bark, and her fingers tangle in your hair, not quite pulling you closer, but not allowing escape either. “Don’t stop,” she begs, and she wears it so well that ideas flood your mind. “I’m so fucking close.”

feel her body tense, tight and perfect around you. “Right there. Oh—” You curl your finger, the final bit of tension she needed to release, clenching hard, her hands in your hair, her body on fire. “Oh God, oh—”

She cums hard, her body arching, her legs closing around your head as she cries out, the sound raw and desperate and so fucking good. Your finger slips out but keep your mouth on her, not letting up until she’s shuddering, breathless, her hands tensed up tugging at you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she gasps, and you feel the last tremors of her orgasm as they ripple through her. “How did you—I can’t—” She’s lost for words, and it’s ammunition for next time you fight over something stupid.

You don’t move until she tugs at you weakly, pulling you up, and the look in her eyes is almost enough to make you drop to your knees again.

You grab her hand, pulling her toward the shower, but she doesn’t budge. Instead, she drops to her knees, fingers splayed on your thighs. “I’ll admit, you’re pretty fucking good,” she says, her eyes gleaming with challenge. Everything’s a competition with this girl. “But I’m better.”

You don’t have time to respond. Her mouth is on you, hot and wet and perfect, and you groan, your head falling back. She works you with a skill you didn’t think she had, her tongue swirling, her lips tight, and all you can do is hold on. She pulls back, and the sudden loss makes you gasp. “Feel free to cum wherever you want,” she muses, and your mind floods with options. All too enticing.

Her pace is relentless, precise, and you feel her smile around you, a smug curve against your skin. She’s rapidly proving her point.

“Chaewon,” you groan, and you’re not sure if you’re leading into begging or commanding. “Fuck, that feels—”

She hums, a low, teasing sound, and the vibration makes you curse. Her fingers slide down, cupping your balls, and you feel yourself throb against her tongue.

You’re close, too close, and she knows it. You can tell by the way she pulls back again, her lips glistening, her eyes wild. “I’m not done with you,” she says, and you swear you might die.

“Fuck my face,” she says, and you tremble, your whole body going tight.

“Chaewon,” you gasp, but she’s already got you begging for more, her hands on your thighs, guiding you inside.

You thrust, and she takes it, takes you, her mouth so fucking good you can’t believe this is real. She moans and gags around you, and it’s a sound you’ll hear in your dreams for the rest of your life.

She looks up, her mouth full, and the sight is obscene, incredible. She’s not stopping, not giving you a second to catch your breath, just letting you use her, and it’s all too fucking much.

You’re so close, the heat building, your control slipping. You fuck her face, your hands tight in her hair, and she’s caught between you and the counter, letting you use her, letting you lose yourself.

“Oh God, Chaewon,” you groan, your thrusts erratic, desperate. “I’m gonna—”

She pulls back, and you gasp, her lips getting pressed against the tip of your dick. She strokes you, her lips swollen and wet, and— “Do it,” she commands, tilting her head back, presenting her face and her tits and her abs and every target you could choose, her eyes pleading to cover not one but all. “Come all over me.”

That’s it. That’s fucking it. You cum hard, your whole body tensing, and she moans as your release hits her face, her lips, her cheek, her chest.

“Fuck,” you groan, and she smiles, licking her lips, and you’re so spent you almost collapse right there.

Then she’s pulling you down, kissing you, and you taste yourself on her tongue.

“At least I was worth the wait, right?” she murmurs, and you pull back just far enough to see the way she’s grinning, the way she’s looking at you like she thinks she won. If only she saw herself right now, you’re clearly the winner.

“Think I’m ready for that shower now,” you say, and you can’t help but smile back, because you’re a mess, and she’s a mess, and you came into this room specifically to be less of a mess; and you love it. You love her.

The shower is still running, heating up the room, and you both stand up. She pulls you with her, and the water makes quick work of the art you just made. What a waste, but a waste you love to spend with her.

She notices your face change as the cum disappears from her visage, and chuckles lightly. “You’ll get plenty of other chances.”

You wash her and she washes you back, and it’s slow and easy and comfortable. Like you never thought it could be again. But better. No rush, no desperation. She works the shampoo into your hair, but you can’t stand to not annoy her for another second, pulling her under the spray and rinsing her off.

“Hey,” she protests, but she’s smiling, her eyes bright.

“Hey yourself,” you say, dragging your thumb across her cheek, her lips, her collarbone. “Think I like you like this.”

“Wet?” she asks, and she’s teasing, but there’s a softness behind it.

“That too. But no. Mine,” you say, and her expression shifts, her eyes going soft, her hands coming to rest on your chest.

“You know,” she says, her voice quiet, thoughtful, “That makes you equally mine.”

You tilt her chin up, kissing her, and she melts into it, into you. “I guess that means we both won today.”

She laughs, and it’s the best sound, the best feeling, the best everything. “Guess I can get used to it if it’s with you.”

Eventually you turn off the tap, and she shivers as you wrap her in a towel, pulling her close. “Bed?” you ask, and she nods, simple and easy.

She helps you dry off, and you help her, and you just can’t let each other be right now. She tugs at you, at your hand, constantly leading you, hair still wild and just damp enough to be okay going to bed with. She slips beneath the covers fully naked, but it’s too cold to worry about any of that, so you follow.

You pull her against you, or she pushes herself into you. It’s hard to tell who’s more desperate. Point is, her back is against your chest, and it fits perfectly. Like she was made for it.

“So,” she says, her voice a sleepy mumble, “are you gonna lose your shit if I say it’s fifty-fifty again?”

You groan, exasperated and affectionate, and she giggles, burying her face in your neck.

“Chaewon,” you say, and she turns just enough to look at you.

“Hmm?”

You wrap your arms around her, holding her, holding everything. “You’re fucking annoying. Never change.”

She smiles, soft and genuine, and you know this is the real win. Not the game, not the challenge, not the give and take of a thousand heated mathematical arguments—but this. Her. You. Together.

“Promise,” she whispers, and you feel her breath slow, feel her body relax, feel the unlikeliest odds settle in your favor.

You hold her tighter, and the silence this time is comfortable, a weightless, blissful quiet that lulls you both toward sleep. You barely hear her next words, but they seep into you, the last sweet, stubborn thing you need to know.

“I still think it's fifty-fifty.”

[vanteguccir]

chris said on the stream that he can’t go to sleep mad at his brothers so can you write something where reader and chris are mad at each other and she’s trying to go to sleep but chris won’t let her until they make up please!!

love you🤍

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤNOT GONNA SLEEP ANGRY * CHRIS STURNIOLO * BLURB

SUMMARY　::　Where Y/N and Chris had a fight during the day, and now he won't go to sleep until Y/N forgive him.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x reader

WARNINGS　::　None.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the dim glow of Chris's phone screen as he scrolled aggressively - probably watching only a second from each TikTok - while pointedly ignoring Y/N.

Or, well, trying to.

Because even though she wasn’t looking at him, he could feel her presence, her annoyance practically radiating off her in waves.

She was lying as far away from him as physically possible, practically falling off the edge of the bed like she was getting ready for some kind of emergency evacuation.

The only reason she hadn’t actually left was because one, she refused to give him the satisfaction of sleeping on the couch, and two, she wasn’t about to make him do it either. Even if he was being impossible.

Chris let out a deep sigh, dramatically loud, as if he were the victim here.

Y/N closed her eyes tighter, gripping the edge of the blanket like it was a lifeline. She wasn’t about to break first. No way. She had her pride. And besides, she was so tired. If she just focused hard enough, she could probably fall asleep and pretend he wasn’t there.

But Chris? Oh, Chris wasn't having it.

He shifted, tossing his phone onto the mattress beside him, and let out another long, deep sigh.

Y/N didn’t react.

"Are you seriously gonna sleep like that?" He finally spoke, voice laced with exasperation.

She didn’t answer.

Silence. A whole five seconds of it.

Until Chris poked her side.

Y/N flinched but stayed quiet, clenching her jaw.

Another poke.

"Chris." Her voice was warning, strained, eyes still squeezed shut.

Another poke.

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

"Christopher."

But still, no other reaction from her.

Chris groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the pillow.

"You’re really gonna make me suffer like this?"

No answer.

Chris shifted closer. Not too close, but enough for her to know he was there, breathing down her neck, waiting for any sort of reaction.

Then, in a voice that was way too soft for the situation, he was back at talking.

"You know I can’t sleep when we’re mad at each other."

Y/N rolled her closed eyes.

"Then don’t sleep."

"Oh my God." Chris flopped onto his back, covering his face with his hands like she had just stabbed him in the heart. "You’re actually evil. I can’t believe I’m dating a villain."

She bit back a smile.

Chris propped himself up on his elbow.

"Babe." He tried again, a little whinier this time. "Just talk to me so I can sleep."

"You should’ve thought about that before being annoying."

Chris let out the most pained groan.

"I’m always annoying. That’s literally, like, my whole thing. What’s different about today?"

Y/N turned her head just slightly, just enough for him to see her squinting at him.

"Oh, so you know you’re annoying?"

Chris shrugged.

"Duh. You knew what you signed up for."

She huffed, turning back toward the side, still determined to ignore him.

Chris paused. Considered his options.

Well...

Then, before Y/N could even register what was happening, she felt hands. Strong, impatient hands digging into her waist and yanking her back with force, her body colliding into his in one swift motion, causing the bed to squeak.

A gasp left her lips as she suddenly found herself trapped, Chris’s arms locked tightly around her middle, fingers pressing into her stomach in an almost bruising grip, his broad chest flush against her back.

"CHRIS."

"Nope." He interrupted, his voice low, spoken directly into the crook of her neck as he buried his face against her. His breath tickled, warm and slow, sending a shiver racing down her spine.

Her hands instinctively flew to his exposed arms, attempting to pry them off, digging her nails on his skin, but he was relentless. His grip only tightened, his legs wrapping around hers now, effectively caging her in.

"You hate me so bad, but you’re still in my bed." He murmured dramatically against her neck, the vibrations of his voice sinking into her skin.

Y/N squirmed, still trying to maintain whatever shred of dignity she had left.

"I was here first."

Chris hummed, the sound almost taunting, before pressing his lips right against her pulse.

Y/N froze.

Chris, sensing the way her body stiffened, smirked.

"I refuse to sleep with this weird energy." He continued, voice softer now. "You know I can’t go to bed mad at you."

Y/N exhaled sharply, hating how her body had completely betrayed her, how the stubbornness she had clung to so tightly was slipping through her fingers with every passing second in his arms.

"This isn’t fair." She muttered, pouting.

Chris chuckled, nuzzling his nose against the soft skin below her jaw, his lips grazing just enough to make her melt.

"You love it."

"I don’t." She insisted, though the way her body had softened into his told a completely different story.

Chris pressed another slow kiss to her neck, his grip on her waist easing, but still firm. Holding her there. Keeping her close.

"Yeah, you do."

Y/N sighed, eyes fluttering shut.

She was so mad at how easy he made it. How quickly he could make her not mad at him anymore.

"You’re so annoying." She whispered.

Chris smiled against her skin.

"And yet, here you are."

"Well, you kidnapped me." She rolled her eyes, squeezing the skin of his arm. "... I hate when you do this."

Chris hummed, content.

"What, love you?"

She exhaled through her nose, finally letting herself melt into him.

"I love you too."

Chris grinned, pressing one last lingering kiss to her skin before finally resting his head against the pillow, arms still securely wrapped around her.

© vanteguccir

[temis-de-leon]

Pick me girls and Dateables - Part 3

Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon (x reader, separately)

Part 1 - Lucifer, Mammon and Levi (x reader, separately)

Part 2 - Satan, Asmo, Beel and Belphie (x reader, separately)

Masterlist

CW: pick me girl behavior, suggestive, mentions of sex, mentions of violence and threats, mentions of concubines (no concubines, tho), implied marriage (??), jealous mc, some fluff, some hurt, some comfort, the most ooc out of every part of the series, Barbatos's part is based on one of his chats (A patissier's suffering?)

A/N at the end.

.

Diavolo

So the Devildom had concubines, what about it? It's not like Diavolo had any concubines. You were his only partner and, apparently, the first one in a long while. You had nothing to worry about.

Still, it was impossible not to feel so dejected when every single one of the demons in his court buttered him up so blatantly, not caring that you were next to him, arms linked and fingers intertwined.

And he smiled. Of course, what else could he do but smile? He had a duty to fulfill and that probably meant keeping certain people happy, right?

At least, that was the mantra in your head. Your heart kept hurting itself, but having a reason made it manageable.

"Well? Have you thought about it?"

You turned to your side and stared at the demoness beside you. She was mesmerizing and looking at her directly made you lose focus.

Have I thought about it? I haven't stop thinking about it.

"Remember that I'm acting on behalf of his wellbeing" she said sweetly, caressing your wrist like she wanted to flirt with you "And I guess I could make you happy too"

That made you laugh without an ounce of humor. Both of you knew she wasn't being serious about that one and you wondered why she said it in the first place. Making her Diavolo's concubine would make her his wife in everything but paper. Did she expect giving you orgasms would make you happier about it?

"Leave me alone" you whispered against your drink, not trusting your voice to act decently.

"How can you be so selfish?" she spat, leaving you speechless "This is for his own good. How long will you live, human? Do you expect him to be alone after your death? My only wish is to keep him company once you're gone and starting now would make the transition easier. He'll still love you, sure, but this way he could be happier. How can you not understand something so simple?"

A demon she was, you remembered. Had you been a regular human, you would've believed her concerned face, but to you it was obvious how impatient she was and how much she wanted to leave you there, alone and breaking, so she could finally speak to Diavolo.

"MC"

Both of you jumped, turning around just to see Barbatos's unfazed smile.

"Lord Diavolo asks for you" he informed when you didn't answer, too surprised to react. "Follow me if you please"

"If I may" intervened your companion, close to giving you a heart attack "I must speak to Prince Diavolo. It's an urgent matter"

The butler looked at you, asking for your permission, but you didn't know how to react. It seemed your throat decided to stop working at that exact moment.

"Very well, then"

The demoness eagerly jumped at his words, not wasting a second in leaving the corner you were occupying to look for the prince, who had finally stopped talking to his subjects and was sitting alone in his throne.

Barbatos stared at her before offering you his arm.

"You have nothing to worry about"

He seemed confident, so you believed him. However, the distance you walked towards the throne felt longer than ever.

Your boyfriend looked unnaturally serious at your arrival, an expression his face was not made for. It softened when he saw you, but, still, he didn't fully smile.

"My love, come here" he palmed his thigh and not in a million years would you reject that offer.

Diavolo smiled at the speed you moved, barely restraining himself from kissing you. Instead, he turned to the demoness and presented her to you.

"I believe you've met her already, MC. Did you know about her offer? Did you know she wishes to serve me?"

He patiently waited for your answer, holding you against his chest and caressing your hip bones with the pad of his fingers and the tip of his nails, making you shiver.

Serve? That's the word she decided to use? She wasn't lying, sure, but it was far from the intention she actually had.

"We talked about it" you said in the end.

There was silence for a few seconds, broken only by the sounds of people still drinking and dancing. Diavolo and Barbatos looked at each other, having a conversation no one else could hear.

"I take it you rejected her proposition?"

Obviously.

You nodded and he cupped your face with a sad frown. Your heart skipped a beat.

"That's a pity, my love"

For a moment you moved away from him, too lost in your incredulity to answer or even acknowledge the crazy smile on the demoness's face, but, not even a second later, Diavolo brought you back to him and continued.

"She would've make a wonderful lady in waiting"

Huh?

"Wait, what?"

Both of you ignored the woman, who looked like she'd been slapped in the face with something rotten, which, in her mind, was probably accurate.

"I asked to serve you, my Lord, not the human..."

"Beware your words" interrupted Barbatos, his tail swishing behind him like a whip.

She stopped talking then, very obviously swallowing her opinions. Diavolo speaked again.

"By serving you, she'll serve me. Give her an opportunity to make you happy and, if she fails, we'll get rid of her"

What did he mean, get rid of her? You opened your mouth to ask, but he jerked his leg, making you jump. His smile was wide, but his eyes held a warning.

You decided to let it go.

"Okay"

Diavolo laughed as loud as he usually did, finally hugging you and ignoring both Barbatos's reprimanding glance and the demoness's sour expression.

But wait.

Wait.

He said 'lady in waiting'. Like... Uh...

Were you getting married?

Barbatos

'I'll be waiting in the classroom'

That's what his last message said.

And you'd never be dumb enough to reject that invitation. ¿Spending time with your boyfriend and eating his homemade cookies? Hell yeah!

You just had to be careful not to catch Beel's attention, avoiding the main hallways and hiding between the taller students, which were almost everyone.

By the time you finally arrived to the classroom (you got lost, but you'd never admit that to anyone), you were fairly sure all of your classmates had already gone home.

Alas, you were wrong.

Barbatos's figure was as composed as ever, but you knew him just enough to know how irritated he actually was. Were you this late? It was never your intention!

But no, no, that wasn't the root of the problem.

You knew her, kinda. Not personally, but you'd seen her a lot of times in the castle, cleaning plates in the kitchen or clearing up the table after one of Diavolo's dinner parties. She looked weird in the school's uniform instead of the one the maids used, but you guessed they too had to go to RAD, just like the brothers did.

So why did Barbatos look so uncomfortable?

Both of them stared at you when you entered, walking towards him while staring at her in search of an explanation.

"MC! You're finally here"

He smiled at you with candid eyes, discreetly holding your hand and restraining himself from kissing you in front of the girl, who cleared her throat to break the moment and grinned at Barbatos like you weren't there at all.

Foolish mistake if you'd ever seen one.

Your boyfriend frowned before turning in her direction, clearly giving her one last oportunity before kicking her out of there and reclaiming his alone time with you.

The girl purposely made herself meek, lowering her gaze as if making visual contact with him was too much, something you could totally understand.

"Master Barbatos, please, I'm begging you. I just wish to learn"

You raised your eyebrows and waited for his answer. Instead, she kept talking.

"I'll follow every one of your orders, sir, I promise" arms behind her back and body slightly swaying, you now understood why he was in the edge of snapping "The others don't appreciate you as much as I do. I'll be your best student"

He stared at her, you stared at her, she stared at him, batting her lashes with a weirdly fake innocent smile.

Her demeanor vanished when the Royal Butler spoke.

"I recomend you stop this nonsense at once" he finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence "You're embarrassing yourself and Lord Diavolo's service's good reputation"

The poor maid gaped like a fish, although you weren't feeling bad for her.

You stayed behind him, closing the distance as much as possible while staring at her over his shoulder. If you ate a cookie now, would it be too much? He'd probably forgive you, but you'd rather not risk your chances.

"You will stay on cleaning duty as long as I say and you will stop the rumors that I know have been traveling all around the castle"

She lowered her gaze again, this time in submission and humiliation. His voice sounded venomous and you could swear the room's temperature dropped a few degrees. The air was still and smelled damped and rottening.

"If the gossip hasn't disappear by midnight, rest assured, I will make sure you keep your mouth fully shut"

The threat was clear in his words, something that shouldn't, but still surprised you. The maid trembled in response before bowing and running out the classroom.

You stared at the door in surprise, not turning around until he talked again.

"Do forgive me, my dear, but you know how much I dispise rats"

He sounded scarier than ever, letting his forked tongue slip between his teeth before he searched around the room, like he was trying to find more pests.

Then, he turned to you and smiled like nothing happened, holding a cookie to your mouth as the tips of his gloved fingers caressed your jaw.

"Let's forget about this ordeal, MC. After all, I saved these just for you"

Solomon

If there was something worse than feeling jealous, it was Solomon knowing you were jealous.

You thought you could catch a break, uh? Well, you couldn't be more wrong: your boyfriend knew the moment he saw you staring at that witch.

She was cute, you guessed? Nothing exceptional, but not hideous either. You wouldn't mind at all if not for the fact that she used her appearance like a nuclear weapon.

"Oh, you're so cute!" she'd told you once "I wish I was as cute as you!"

And at first you thought nothing of it. She was just being nice! A little weird about it, sure, but who wasn't weird in RAD?

Except, she wasn't looking at you when she said that, but, instead, at your boyfriend.

Of course, Solomon, unbothered as ever, was too engrossed in the cooking book he'd borrowed from the library to pay attention.

(Later that night you had to order takeout, but you were already counting on that).

The point was: she was trying too hard. You couldn't blame her, really, you dated Solomon for a reason; but still. She was getting on your nerves.

"I'm so dumb... I'll never get it! Solomon, can you help me with this?"

Opening a door with magic? Difficult? Yeah, right.

"I've never dated a human before... How is it, MC? I bet Solomon is a great boyfriend"

He has his moments.

"Solomon! Sit with me, I saved you a seat! Why? Oh, I concentrate better when you're here!"

Shit, could she concentrate at all?

"You're so powerful! You'll have to let me have him for a night, MC! He could teach me a couple of things..."

You closed your fist, staring at her with a frown while talking yourself out of mauling her across the table. You didn't need Lucifer's rants about impropriety and self restraint on top of all of this.

"MC and I have a lesson tonight" the sorcerer said with a polite smile, unusually kind eyes and an unreadable expression "Would you like to tag along?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes, lowering her gaze in embarrassment, although you weren't sure if she was really embarrassed.

"Could we hang out alone, tho? I don't want MC to see how dumb I am. They're so much better than me! I bet I need you more than they do!"

Well, you didn't need to study with her to know she was dumb as bricks.

You looked at Solomon, opening your eyes so much in bewilderment that even the insides of your cornea were getting dry. Not a second later he turned to you, smiling with mischief, and then you remembered who were you actually dating.

"It's either this or nothing. Be in Purgatory Hall at 6, we won't be waiting for you"

The witch quickly looked at you, frustrated at his words. It wasn't ideal, you knew, thirdwheeling your crush and his partner in a study date, but what else did she expect? Every other option was plain stupid.

"Okay"

She snorted, trying to hide the disgust and disappoinment without much success. Once she left you alone, swaying her hips and her ponytail, you punched Solomon in the arm and reveled in his pain.

"MC!! Relax!"

"Don't tell me to relax!"

You tried to choke him, but he hid his neck under his shoulders before you could lift yourself to reach him better. He knew you too well.

"MC, I have an idea! You'll like it, believe me!"

"Oh, really?"

"I swear!"

Once free from your attacks, Solomon avoided your eyes and stared at his hands. It took him a couple of seconds before he could look at you again, cheeks red, while he spoke from his heart.

"I couldn't care less about her attempts, MC, but she's obviously making you uncomfortable. I won't let this keep going if I can do something about it"

"But why did you invite her to our lesson, then?"

He laughed in a carefree manner, still blushing while he took your hands in his, looking at you like he was about to uncover a precious secret.

"As your teacher, I want you to explore your potential to the maximum"

His voice lowered to a whisper and you got closer to him, letting your body shiver when his breath caressed the skin of your neck.

"Say, MC, wouldn't you like to have your very own training dummy?"

Simeon

Oh, the privileges of being friends with the most powerful demons in the Devildom.

All you had to do was pout a little and act like you were miserable, missing the warmth of the sun and the familiar scenery of the human world. Of course, all of them knew you were exaggerating, but none would take the risk of actually making you sad.

So there you were, waiting for your drinks while Simeon sunbathed outside, sitting in one of those ornate metal chairs and writing some loose ideas for his next book in a napkin. After all, you'd be crazy if you ever went to the human realm without using the opportunity to have a date with your sweetheart of a boyfriend.

If not for the brightness of his suit, he would look like a college student from an old movie, all dreamy and focused in his own world.

And, apparently, you weren't the only one thinking that.

There were a group of girls outside the cafe, all of them young, maybe even fresh out of high school, staring at Simeon like he was some kind of celebrity. Maybe it was his angelic charisma? Maybe it was just his good looks? Whatever the reason, the girls seemed ready enough to conquer the world and they wanted to start with your boyfriend.

You studied your surroundings, realizing with an uncomfortable weigh in your chest just how busy the place was. There was no way you were getting your order in less than five minutes, even being the first in line, so the only thing you could do was wait and hope the girls wouldn't bother Simeon too much.

They stayed in a closed circle for a few moments until one of them finally dared to go and talk to him. She tried to sit in the second chair, but Simeon stopped her with a quick movement of his hand, probably saying he was saving it for you.

That made you laugh, but you were starting to get second hand embarrassment. You could tell she was trying hard to catch his attention, twirling her hair around her finger and hugging her waist to make her breasts look bigger.

You couldn't see Simeon's face, but, by the way he was scratching the paper, it was obvious he was losing focus on whatever he was previously writing, which would only make him irritated.

Fortunately, and rather rudely, the waitress finally gave you the styrofoam cups and immediately ignored you again, but you couldn't care less. The girl returned to her friends just as you stepped out of the cafe, letting you know part of what happened.

"He said he didn't know what part of him made him look interested in me" she snarled with a hint of hurt in her voice, trying to hide it with offense "That I should find someone that actually finds me entertaining"

Her friends gasped and you had to stop yourself from laughing. He wasn't usually that snappy, but she did interrupt his daydreaming.

"I don't even care what he thinks, he's just some dude! I can catch anyone I want, you know?"

Anyone but him, apparently, but the only thing her friends could do was agree.

Shaking your head and holding one drink in each hand, you stopped the eavesdropping and hurried towards him, leaning over his shoulder to kiss his cheek and smiling softly when he raised his hands to stroke your hair. He was warm from the sun, but he still curled close to you even after letting you sit next to him.

The girls audibly gasped at your actions, clearly offended by your presence as if Simeon would change his mind if they waited enough.

You couldn't bring yourself to pay them attention. Not when he was caressing your knuckles with such love in his touch and a feeling so deep in his eyes that it made your heart violently stop.

"So what were you writing?"

He smiled and eagerly showed you the napkin. By the time you turned around, the girls were already gone.

Tagging the party: @hello-gloomy @the-sassiest-toaster @hero-nii-blog @yourlocalyin @elaemae @eliciria @darkflowerav

Author's note:

Simeon's part sucked the soul out of me (not in the good way), but at least it's well-written. Also, this will be the last part for now: I don't know Mephisto, Raphael or Thirteen enough, so they won't be in any of my posts (for now)

[melwnst]

────── ⋆⋅☆ COLD SWEAT, ROBERT ‘BOB’ REYNOLDS

summary. Valentina decides to punish you and cuts the heating in the tower leading Bob to seek warmth in your arms.

⭑.ᐟwrote this like a week ago and forgot to post it so… surprise!? He’s so precious kill me now. Interact and send requests if u have any:)

word count. 1,1k

Read ☆ ⋅ ⋆ part two here

my masterlist

──────────୨ৎ──────────

Valentina is evil. That’s all you can tell yourself while your teeth collide, your body shivers and your heart feels like it’s about to give out.

The moment you woke up, you knew something was wrong. You’ve never been able to sleep without the heating on, so when you woke up cold, lips and fingers about to turn blue, the chatter of the others complaining, the floor as cold as ice, you knew it wasn’t an ordinary loss of heating, it had to be her.

You spend the day with the others, curled up in blankets, sweats covering your whole body, mountain of socks on your feet, and yet you’re still freezing.

It’s not even winter yet- but being high in the sky doesn’t help. the wind outside makes the tower almost shake, the sound of its screams gives you chills.

Bob’s telling stories to keep you occupied, to keep your mind away from remembering how cold you are. Alexei’s making dad jokes that are so bad you have a headache coming. John complains about how much Bob talks, or really complains about everything that’s wrong with today.

Ava and Yelena are nowhere to be found, maybe in their rooms, while Bucky paces around the living room, trying not to go psycho mode on Valentina because frankly, there’s not much he can do anyway.

You eat the hot dinner all together although no one speaks, probably because everyone’s pissed, and still fighting the cold atmosphere.

When bed time comes around and everyone retracts to their rooms the cold is still there. It’s still hanging in the air, teeth still collide with each other, your body almost sweats because of all the clothes hanging on your body.

It’s not a surprise that you can’t sleep.

You can’t even think.

You just pray that her little scheme will stop because you’re not sure you can go another day like this. No amount of hot showers or hot chocolates will help you not lose your mind.

You close your eyes- trying to think of the good. But your mind can only wander to the bad. The fighting, the battles, the fears.

It’s about to go to the one memory you’re trying to forget the most before there’s a light knock on the door making you almost jump out of bed.

You’re not sure why, but you can feel him. You know exactly who’s standing behind that door.

It’s Bob.

You swing the door open, only to find him standing in his black sweats, the hood covering his head, his hands warming each other in front of him.

His demeanor’s different. He doesn’t look so nervous, or shy. He looks so-normal. Which none of you really do more often than not.

‘Can’t sleep?’ You question, moving slightly to let him in.

You rub your eyes with fatigue as he sits on your bed like he belongs there.

‘It’s impossible. I can’t believe they haven’t fixed it yet.’ He takes off the hood, while you pace across the room.

‘She won’t. She won’t until the thinks we’ve suffered enough. I swear that woman is the devil.’ You complain running a hand through your hair, frustrated.

‘Hey, maybe by morning. You never know.’ He shakes his head.

‘Well you’re always the optimistic one.’ You let out a little laugh, and Bob follows.

You decide to lay down next to him. He’s still sitting, he’s turning a little so he can get a good look at you.

You know this isn’t the right moment. You’re basically dying, but you can’t help your eyes from wandering. He’s always looked good, but the black sweats and hoodie are enough to make your mind go wild, your stomach flutter. You wish you had someone to hold, to maybe make it go away. Or maybe make it better at least.

That’s when you see him shiver, his lips are a weird shade of purple, or blue you’re not sure. You think maybe tonight’s your chance to seize the opportunity. Maybe in the morning it’ll be awkward but surely this is the right time.

‘It’s a bit warmer here.’ He speaks up before you have the chance to, and you’re taken aback.

‘I’ve been dying the whole day, am I like, super dramatic?’ You realize out loud.

‘Maybe just a little.’ He jokes.

Your laugh echoes in his ears and he swears it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

He smiles while he stares.

Usually you might feel too small, awkward and suddenly shy, but the moment he stares, you stare back.

You stare back until eventually you get the courage to ask.

‘Do you want to stay here tonight? Since you think it’s warmer, I wouldn’t want you die from the cold out there.’

Before Bob can even think of forming an answer, you drag yourself to lay under the covers. When you’re safe under them, you pat the bed, the covers on his side in your hand as if to tell him to get under them. His heart beats out of his chest. His hands aren’t so cold anymore, they’re sweaty.

They’re sweaty but he tells himself there’s no use saying no. He’d be stupid to- because he needs the warmth, and so do you.

So he doesn’t answer, instead he just lays down next to you. He gets under the covers, and he’s not sure what to do. If he holds you, he’s afraid he might break, or you might hear how fast his heart is beating. He if doesn’t, he’s afraid he’ll just shake through the cold the entire night.

‘Can I?’ His thoughts are interrupted when you slide closer to him, asking for permission to rest your head on his chest.

Instinctively, his arms are around you in seconds, the covers, the blankets shielding you from the cold.

‘This is nice.’ He speaks up surprising himself. Maybe the cold is getting to his head, maybe he’s a completely different person tonight.

‘It is, yeah.’ You look up at him only to find him already looking down at you.

‘Do you think you can sleep like this?’ You ask because it’s warmer suddenly. You know if you try to close your eyes right now, you might just fall asleep in seconds because he’s there, and because he’s helping.

‘I think so. You?’

You nod your head but don’t answer because you already feel yourself slipping into a slumber.

Your body’s heating up, your hands don’t tremble anymore, your lips are returning to their normal pink-ish color, the only thing going backwards is your heartbeat. Because although you can hear Bob’s going through the roof, you’re pretty sure yours isn’t doing any better.

‘Thank you.’ Is the last thing you hear him say before your brain finally shuts off.

You hope the next step in your courage will be to tell him how you really feel.

Maybe you’ll wake up all sweaty in the morning, but for now, this was worth it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist: @tinas111 @bluemerakis @blossomingorchids @l0v33-rey @mostlymarvelgirl @that-stanford-girlie @sunnyteume @bohoooitsme @beelzebzb (comment to be added!)

[mixolya]

can i request a fluff with rin where reader wants to put makeup on rin 🥲 it'd be so adorable

ᓚᘏᗢ — rin itoshi: pretty boy !

synopsis: in which you convince your boyfriend to let you do his makeup.

rin itoshi x reader ⭑ fluff / softie!rin (my fav) + likes & reblogs are appreciated <3

note: AHHHH THANK YOUUU ANON i love this request omg

"stay still."

rin exhaled through his nose. "i am still."

"no, you're not. you're blinking like i'm threatening you with a knife."

"that's because you are," he muttered. "a very glittery knife."

you snorted, your free hand curling lightly around his shoulder for balance as you leaned in closer.

"you're such a baby," you whispered, tapping a dot of highlighter on the tip of his nose.

he sighed, long-suffering, dramatic but entirely fake. his hands stayed steady around your waist, fingers draped over your hips like they belonged there, which, to be fair, kind of did.

you were straddling his lap, knees tucked on either side of his thighs, your makeup bag beside you on the couch. rin sat still beneath you, back pressed against the cushions, while you carefully painted stars across his cheekbones with soft brushed and too much love.

you'd asked him as a joke, half a joke. okay, maybe not really a joke at all. just soft and teasing and full of affection. it was a lazy sunday afternoon. his head had been in your lap, your fingers in his hair and something about the way the light caught his face made your chest feel all floaty. so you blurted:

"can i do your makeup?"

you expected a no or a weird look. maybe a kiss on the cheek and a "sounds ridiculous, so no."

instead, rin blinked up at you, yawned once and said, "...okay."

which is how you ended up here, settled on his lap with a brush in one hand and his stupidly perfect face in the other.

"you have really nice eyes, you know," you said quietly, blending shimmer onto his eyelids.

he didn't respond, not out loud at least.

but one of his hands moved, slid up the small of your back, fingers splaying between your shoulder blades. just resting there.

you pretended not to notice. you definitely noticed.

"why are you even letting me do this?" you asked, laughing softly as you swept a warm blush across his cheeks. "i thought you'd say no and grumble about it for like an hour."

"i don't mind," he said.

"really?"

"you like it."

you froze for a second. just long enough for it to hit your heart directly.

"...you're such a sap," you mumbled.

"don't care." his voice was quieter now, more serious. "i like it when you touch me."

your breath caught. you paused halfway through reaching for lip gloss.

"oh, okay, wow. rude to just say that out loud."

he raised an eyebrow. "you asked."

you stared at him, flustered and probably getting warmer than he already was. he looked annoyingly calm about the whole thing, even with sparkles on his cheeks and the tiniest bit of mascara on his lashes.

"you're lucky you're pretty," you muttered.

"everyone keeps saying that," he deadpanned.

you laughed so hard you almost fell off his lap. your balance tipped, knees slipping and rin's hands flew to your waist, steadying you in that way he always did.

"careful, hm?" he muttered, but there was a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth now. like watching you be ridiculous warmed something in him he didn't know could be warm.

"thank you... okay, final touch," you whispered, lifting the dior lip gloss he gifted you on valentines day. "pucker up, itoshi."

he rolled his eyes. "never say that again."

"say please," you teased.

he just looked at you, eyes dark but impossibly soft. then, without a word, he leaned in and kissed you. gentle and slow.

"are you done?" he murmured.

you smiled against his mouth.

"yeah," you breathed.

"okay."

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[paxaz535]

DOUBLE ( DATE ) TROUBLE [sequal]

at this point it’s you with the three of them lmfao

the foursome that you all requested! i hope i did good lolls

★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪★☆✪

“So…”

You were sitting cross-legged on Jana’s bed, the scent of nail polish hanging in the air as she carefully painted your nails. You looked up at the voice from the doorway—and there she was.

Nika. Beautiful, cocky, completely effortless. Even after three years together, she still made your heart race.

“Hi,” you said, a little breathless, trying not to smile too hard. Nika smirked, her eyes dragging over your nails before flicking to your face. She leaned against the doorframe like she owned the place.

Jana didn’t look up as she spoke. “I’m gonna say this now—please keep your horniness out of this room.”

You snorted, already bracing for whatever slick comment Nika had loaded up. Nika raised her hands innocently. “Yes, ma’am.”

But then she slid over to sit beside you, close enough that you felt the warmth of her body. She leaned in, her lips just barely brushing your ear.

“We’re going to another cabin this weekend,” she murmured. “You already know what to do.”

Your heart dropped—in the best way possible. You bit your lip.

She pulled back, the ghost of a smirk on her lips, and stood up with a wink. “Nice nails, by the way,” she added casually before slipping out and closing the door behind her.

Jana glanced at your dazed expression and snorted. “Girl, you are so gone,” she laughed, slipping your hand under the little purple light. “Get it together before I start charging you for emotional labor.”

You let out a shaky breath, already picturing the things you’re gonna do when you arrive.

-

azzi:

dude

they’re at it again

you:

no seriously

nika came in while jana was doing my nails and whispered it to me

like it was a secret mission or something

azzi:

i was doing my hair

i think i messed up a part

because i flinched when paige said “round three” like it was normal

you laughed at the message, fingers hovering over the keyboard as your heart thudded once just a little harder.

you:

are you ready?

azzi:

fuck yeah.

-

Azzi was in the middle of packing—again—folding a hoodie when two hands suddenly covered her eyes.

“Guess who?”

“Steph Curry?”

Paige scoffed from behind her and gave Azzi’s head a soft muffing, her palm rubbing through the curls just enough to be annoying. Azzi laughed, already grinning as she turned around and pulled Paige in for a kiss.

Paige melted into it, her hand immediately finding its home at the side of Azzi’s neck, fingers curling just enough to make Azzi sigh. That touch—firm, possessive, gentle in its own way—always got her.

Azzi started to lean into her, one knee rising as if to climb onto Paige’s lap, but she caught herself.

“Mmh—no,” she murmured, pulling back and giving Paige a push to the chest. “We need to stop.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because we haven’t even made it to the cabin yet,” Azzi said, half-laughing, half-scolding. “Calm down, hornball.”

Paige groaned dramatically and flopped onto the bed, arms spread like she was suffering. “You’re impossible.”

Azzi just shook her head and turned back to her suitcase, folding her jeans with a little too much precision.

From the bed, Paige watched her, chin propped on her hand.

“You’re so beautiful, baby.”

Azzi paused, her fingers slowing on the zipper. A blush bloomed across her cheeks as she turned her head to glance back.

“Thank you,” she said softly, smile curling at the edges. “You too, pretty girl.”

-

you:

so who’s bringing the weed

paige:

you bring it

azzi:

yeah ngl

you’re our best bet

nika:

fuck you? i have a good weed man

you:

baby your weed man can’t stay outta jail to save his life

he probably locked up right now

nika:

…

so?

doesn’t change the fact his shit hits

azzi:

nika

just let her bring it

nika disliked this message

azzi:

can me and [ ] be front seat? i wanna drive

you:

yeah i need that aux cord

paige:

hell no

you:

bet you we’re still gonna be in the front tho

azzi:

fr

we just won’t go if we can’t

nika:

bruh

paige:

alright damn 😒

-

The trunk was packed, the cabin location was set, and somehow—somehow—you and Azzi ended up exactly where you said you would be: front seat. Azzi was behind the wheel, one hand casually resting on the top of the wheel, the other tapping her thigh to the beat of the music you were DJing.

Nika and Paige were in the back, visibly annoyed but saying nothing… yet.

“Next time,” Paige muttered, “I’m hiding the damn keys.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Azzi said sweetly, eyes on the road, smirking.

“Besides,” you added, glancing at her, “if you wanted the aux cord that bad, you should’ve claimed it before we even left the dorm.”

Nika scoffed. “You act like your playlists are untouchable.”

“Name one time I played trash.”

“That one random night you put on The Weeknd’s Dawn FM in full. No skips. No warning. It felt like I was in a haunted disco.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Azzi said, laughing. “You did scare me a little with that transition into Gasoline.”

“You’re supposed to appreciate the art,” you defended.

“Mmhm,” Paige said. “Play something we actually like, DJ Trauma Bond.”

You grinned and scrolled through your phone until you found what you were really waiting for. The opening notes of On My Mama by Victoria Monét hit the speakers, and Azzi let out a little “Ooooh yes” under her breath.

Nika, despite herself, nodded along from the back.

“I do look good,” Azzi said, checking herself out in the rearview.

“You do, baby,” Paige muttered, trying to sound unimpressed. “Still mad at you though.”

Azzi blew her a kiss.

“Alright, now I’m mad at all of you,” Nika said. “I’m trapped in the back with no aux, no front seat, and y’all flirting in stereo.”

You turned in your seat with a smug smile. “You’re still high from yesterday’s pre-pack blunt. Relax.”

“She’s mad ‘cause she wasn’t in charge this time,” Paige muttered.

“I am in charge,” Nika shot back.

“You’re in the backseat,” you and Azzi said in perfect unison.

A beat passed. Then laughter filled the car.

It felt good—stupid and warm and full of that dangerous pre-weekend energy, like you were all revving up for something you couldn’t name but definitely wanted.

The car rolled into the gas station lot, bass still bumping as Azzi pulled into a spot way too confidently for someone driving a borrowed SUV.

“Alright,” she said, throwing it in park. “Everyone behave. And by everyone, I mean Nika.”

Nika was already unbuckling. “You act like I can’t be chill in public.”

“You were banned from a gas station for yelling at the beef jerky,” Paige said, deadpan.

“That was once, and they were charging fourteen dollars for a Slim Jim. I was the voice of the people.”

You snorted, pushing open your door. “You’re banned from my aux if you go in there yelling again.”

“I’ll take that risk.”

The four of you filed into the store, sunglasses on, walking like you owned the place. You and Azzi immediately headed for the snacks aisle—eyes on the essentials. Azzi grabbed a family-sized bag of Hot Cheetos and a giant blue Gatorade. You picked up peach rings, Sour Patch Watermelon, and a suspicious-looking breakfast sandwich just because it felt right.

Meanwhile, Nika was eyeing the freezer section like it had done something to her personally.

“Why is every ice cream sandwich here freezer-burned?” she muttered.

“Because it’s a gas station in the middle of nowhere,” Paige answered, already at the counter with a pack of gum, a mini lighter, and a bottle of Smartwater like she was doing light damage only.

Back at the car, the vibe immediately shifted. You and Azzi had the trunk open, sitting on the edge while Azzi unpacked the actual essentials.

“Pre-rolls or blunt wrap?” she asked, holding both up.

“Blunt,” you said immediately. “It’s tradition.”

Paige leaned against the passenger door, squinting at her. “Y’all really about to do this in broad daylight?”

Azzi shrugged. “We’re parked. Who’s gonna stop us? The beef jerky cops?”

Nika took the blunt wrap from you and started rolling, resting it on her knee with practiced ease. “Besides, we’re not lighting it here,” she said. “This is a preparation stop. A strategic pause.”

You popped a peach ring in your mouth, leaning back on your hands. “Also known as stoner foreplay.”

Paige snorted, but she was smiling.

Azzi nudged you. “Front seat still ours, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Then this is a win all around,” she said, already stuffing the snacks back into the bag with one hand while holding the half-rolled blunt with the other.

Nika finished the roll, sealed it with a flick of her tongue, and held it up like a trophy. “We’re gonna smoke so dumb at that cabin.”

“You’re gonna be dumb at that cabin,” Paige said, sliding into the car.

“Can’t wait,” Nika grinned.

-

The SUV creaked as it turned up the gravel path, tires crunching through pine needles and dust. The cabin came into view through the trees—tucked into the woods, two stories, the wraparound porch catching golden slants of evening light.

Azzi whistled low under her breath. “Okay, damn. This looks even better than the pics.”

“Yeah,” you said, leaning forward in your seat, eyes scanning the porch, the open windows. “This is about to be a weekend.”

From the back seat, Nika grinned. “Call me when y’all stop fake acting like this ain’t about to be filthy within 24 hours.”

“Who said anything about 24?” Paige muttered, already stretching her arms above her head as the car rolled to a stop.

Bags thudded onto the wooden porch one by one. You and Azzi claimed the first bedroom on the main floor without discussion. Paige and Nika took the loft upstairs. It didn’t take long to settle in—hoodies flung over chairs, Bluetooth speaker connected, snacks unpacked into mismatched bowls in the kitchen.

Azzi was the one who lit it first. She stepped out onto the porch with the rolled blunt from earlier and a quiet kind of excitement in her eyes. You followed without needing to be asked. Paige and Nika joined with a lazy, practiced ease, like this had been part of the plan from the start.

The blunt made its way around the circle, fingers brushing, lips touching where others had just been. The weed hit slow and warm, melting tension from your limbs and coating everything in a golden haze.

Azzi leaned her head back against the cabin wall, exhaling slow. “God, this is so much better than smoking outside your dorm window like a criminal.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nika muttered, sinking lower into the Adirondack chair. “I am a criminal.”

“That’s not hot,” Paige said, stealing the blunt from her. “But keep trying.”

The group fell into a comfortable lull, the silence filled with the occasional cough, the click of a lighter, the low bass of the speaker vibrating through the wooden deck. Sunlight was bleeding out across the trees now, gold turning to amber.

You glanced at Nika and found her already watching you, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with something new. Her tongue dragged slow over her bottom lip like she was tasting the moment. You didn’t look away.

Azzi caught the look and let out a low, knowing hum. “Here we go.”

“What?” Paige asked, already smiling like she knew.

“Y’all feel it too, right?” Azzi said, eyes flicking between you, Nika, and Paige. “The shift?”

You let out a little laugh, half breath, half disbelief. “What shift?”

Azzi tilted her head, her voice dropping just enough to make your skin tighten. “The kind where everyone’s high and warm and looking too good to keep it casual.”

The air thickened.

Paige took one more pull and passed it, eyes dragging over Azzi slowly, almost reverent. “You’re the one talking like that, and I’m supposed to behave?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Who asked you to?”

Nika didn’t say anything. She just looked at you again—this time slower. Hungrier.

You shifted in your seat, heartbeat steady but rising. The blunt was in your hand now, fingers warm from where it had passed through everyone else’s. You took one last hit and handed it off, the taste lingering on your tongue like smoke and heat and someone else’s mouth.

And then Nika stood, stretching like a cat.

“I’m going inside,” she said casually. “Anyone who wants to follow… should.”

That pause.

That look at you.

Your stomach flipped, and Azzi let out a laugh like she knew exactly where this night was headed.

Inside the cabin, the air felt warmer. Still quiet, but heavier now. The kind of quiet that vibrated.

You followed Nika into the living room where the golden light was slipping through the big windows, catching the edges of her jaw, her chain, the curve of her smirk. She flopped down on the couch like she owned it—legs spread, arm draped over the back, eyes never leaving you.

“You coming here to sit,” she said, “or to make me lose my mind?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but footsteps on the porch made you pause.

Azzi and Paige walked in still laughing about something—Azzi holding the Gatorade from earlier, Paige tossing the lighter onto the counter like they’d just finished some kind of shared ritual.

Azzi looked at you first. Then Nika. Then Paige.

There was a beat. A pause. No one said it, but it hung in the air like smoke.

They felt it too.

Nika, of course, was the first to lean in. “So… are we gonna keep acting like y’all haven’t been staring at each other all day?”

Paige raised a brow. “You mean like how you’ve been watching her every time she licked her lips?”

Azzi just grinned and leaned against the back of the couch behind you, voice smooth. “We’ve been watching all of you. Don’t worry.”

Your pulse skipped. You turned, eyes meeting Azzi’s just as she reached out to gently tuck a curl behind your ear. Her fingers lingered. Her eyes flicked down to your mouth.

Something electric sparked between you—and Nika noticed. She leaned forward slowly, possessive smirk stretching across her face.

“Y’all think you’re slick.”

Azzi didn’t even look away from you. “No,” she said, brushing your shoulder with her knuckles. “We just think you’ll share.”

There was no laugh this time. Just heat. Stillness. An unspoken agreement passing through the room like current.

You turned your head slightly, your eyes catching Paige now—who looked like she was trying very hard not to smirk. She tilted her head, her voice lower now, controlled.

“Only if y’all can handle it.”

Nika stood. Slow. Deliberate. She walked up behind you and rested her hands on your waist, her breath brushing your ear. “You know we can.”

You leaned into her instinctively—familiar and dizzying—but still looked over at Azzi and Paige.

Azzi stepped forward.

Paige followed.

No rush. No scrambling. Just a quiet kind of hunger filling the space.

Four people.

One weekend.

Everything unspoken, finally ready to break.

Azzi was the first to close the space completely.

She stepped around the couch, walking toward you like she already knew what you tasted like. Her eyes dropped to your lips again, and this time, she didn’t just look.

She leaned in.

Her mouth brushed yours—barely. A question.

You parted your lips in answer.

It was soft at first. Curious. Just a slow pull of her bottom lip, the edge of her teeth catching. But when her hand slid to your waist, fingers splayed warm over your hoodie, she pulled you in with something deeper. Hungrier.

Behind you, Nika went still. You could feel her watching. Feel the tension rolling off her in waves. But she didn’t stop you.

She didn’t pull you back.

She stepped to your side and let her hand trail up your spine, grounding you, her presence thick at your back. And then—because of course she would—she leaned in and whispered, “Yeah… just like that.”

When you pulled back slightly from Azzi, her lips were still parted, eyes heavy.

“I’ve wanted to do that,” she murmured, voice still warm from the blunt, “for longer than I should admit.”

You felt Nika’s hand tighten briefly at your hip. Possessive, yes—but not stopping you. Just claiming her place in all of this.

Across the room, Paige had her arms crossed loosely, watching like she was calculating every moment, waiting for the right time to pounce. But when Azzi turned toward her—slow, teasing, licking your taste off her lips—Paige moved.

She stepped close.

Grabbed Azzi’s jaw gently.

And kissed her like it was a promise. Slow at first… then deeper. Paige’s hand moved to the back of Azzi’s neck, pulling her in harder, mouth open, demanding. Azzi whimpered—just once—and it made something tug in your stomach.

You didn’t realize you were staring until Nika turned your chin toward her.

“Don’t forget who you belong to,” she said, quiet. Not cruel. Just steady.

Your breath caught, but you didn’t look away. You just nodded, heart pounding in your chest. “I haven’t.”

“Good,” she said—and kissed you like she was making sure of it. It was rougher than Azzi’s, needier. Her hands gripped your jaw, tilted your head just how she liked it. When she pulled back, you felt dazed.

Behind you, Azzi laughed softly. “Damn.”

“She likes to show off,” Paige muttered, dragging her thumb along Azzi’s lower lip. “Let her.”

Nika turned and looked at Paige fully now. The two of them locked eyes—sizing each other up, but not with jealousy. No, this was something else. Competitive. Curious. Some twisted mutual respect.

Then Paige looked at you. Slowly. Like she wanted to see what your mouth tasted like too.

And Nika didn’t stop her.

Didn’t say a word.

She just looked at you, and said, low and dangerous:

“Go ahead, baby. Let her try.”

Paige’s eyes dragged over you like she was already undressing you in her head.

You didn’t move—not because you didn’t want to, but because you wanted to see if she would.

And she did.

She stepped in close, slow and steady, stopping just shy of your space. Her hand lifted to your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. You inhaled softly—barely—and that was all she needed.

She leaned in.

Her kiss wasn’t like Azzi’s or Nika’s. It was precise. Like she was mapping your mouth, learning it. Her hand moved to your throat—not gripping, just there, a slow, grounding weight.

When she pulled back, her lips were still parted, eyes dark. “You kiss like trouble,” she murmured.

From behind, Nika scoffed. “She is trouble. I trained her well.”

You could feel the tension between them spike again—something cocky and unspoken, a silent battle playing out behind your shoulder.

And then, without warning, Azzi turned toward Nika.

They hadn’t kissed yet. Hadn’t even touched.

But the way Azzi looked at her now—challenging, curious—it was clear she was wondering how far this would go.

“You gonna be good?” she asked Nika, tilting her head slightly.

Nika raised an eyebrow, stepping close. “Only if you make me.”

Azzi smirked. “Didn’t think you’d let someone else take the lead.”

“I don’t,” Nika said smoothly, crowding into her space. “Unless they can handle it.”

Azzi didn’t back up. Instead, she reached up, fingers slipping into the chain at Nika’s neck, tugging her just enough to provoke.

“Then let’s see.”

Their mouths collided—no soft warm-up, just heat and teeth and pride. Nika kissed her like she was trying to win something, her hand locking tight in Azzi’s curls. But Azzi held her ground, her fingers curling in the front of Nika’s hoodie, hips brushing Nika’s just enough to make her breath catch.

You turned slightly, still dazed from Paige’s kiss, only to feel Paige’s arm wrap around your waist and pull you gently against her. She kissed your neck this time—slow, deliberate—and whispered:

“You looked good kissing her.”

You swallowed hard. “You like that?”

Paige’s hand dragged down your spine. “I like watching you come undone.”

Your stomach tightened. You glanced back at Azzi and Nika—now flush against each other, Azzi’s thigh slotted between Nika’s legs, both of them panting lightly against each other’s mouths, too stubborn to stop.

Azzi broke the kiss first, licking her lips and glancing over at you and Paige. “So,” she breathed, voice husky, “how are we doing this?”

There was a silence.

Not hesitation. Just weight.

Then Nika looked at you. “You still with me, baby?”

You nodded. “Always.”

Paige’s hand curled tighter at your waist. “I want her,” she said plainly, nodding toward you.

Azzi licked her lips. “Then I guess it’s only fair if I get yours.”

Nika’s eyes flashed. But not with jealousy. She grinned—sharp, competitive.

“Oh, you think you can handle me?”

Azzi leaned in and whispered something low in Nika’s ear—something you couldn’t hear—but Nika’s breath hitched, and her grip on Azzi’s waist tightened immediately.

“Try me,” Azzi said.

Then Paige turned you to face her again, her mouth hovering just above yours.

“Just tell me to stop,” she said, voice serious for once.

You didn’t.

Instead, you pulled her down to kiss you again—this time deeper, hungrier, needier—and felt the world tilt beneath your feet.

The couch was right there.

The night was young.

And nothing was off-limits now.

Cabin Bedroom

The four of you didn’t make it far.

Paige sat first, pulling you down into her lap like she already knew you’d fit. Her mouth met yours immediately—urgent now, with no one watching, no teasing left in her. Her hand slid under your hoodie, fingers exploring your waist and the swell of your chest like she wanted to feel every inch.

You gasped into her mouth when she cupped your breast over your bra, thumb brushing your nipple, slow and deliberate.

Behind you, you heard Nika’s voice—low, amused. “Damn, you didn’t even buy her a drink first.”

“Didn’t need to,” Paige murmured against your skin. “She’s been ready all day.”

Azzi climbed onto the bed behind Nika and pressed her chest to her back, arms sliding around her waist. “And what about you?” she whispered against her ear. “Think you can handle both of us?”

Nika smirked, but her breath caught when Azzi’s hand slid lower. “You wanna find out that bad, Fudd?”

Azzi’s answer was a bite to her neck—firm enough to make Nika groan and drop her head back.

You could barely think. Paige had lifted your hoodie halfway, hands greedy on your skin, kissing down your neck while her other hand toyed with the button on your jeans.

“You good?” she asked quietly, pressing her forehead to yours.

You nodded, breathless. “More than.”

She smiled and pushed your jeans down just enough—fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, slow and teasing. Her fingers were rougher than Nika’s, a little cockier in how she moved, but you were wet enough to welcome the pressure.

“Mmm. Knew it,” she murmured, brushing against your clit. “You’ve been dripping since you kissed her.”

Nika, now turning in Azzi’s arms, snapped her gaze toward the two of you. “My girl’s dripping?” She pulled free of Azzi’s grip and crawled across the bed. “Move, Paige.”

Paige gave her a lazy grin. “Make me.”

Azzi grabbed Nika’s hoodie and pulled her back, flattening her to the bed. “You’ll get your turn,” she said, straddling Nika’s waist. “Let me see if your mouth’s as good as you say.”

Nika opened her mouth to respond, but Azzi was already tugging her own shorts down, shifting forward on her knees.

You watched, wide-eyed, as Nika gripped Azzi’s thighs and pulled her closer, pressing her mouth between Azzi’s legs like it was instinct. Azzi’s head dropped back instantly, her moan deep and sudden.

Paige turned you back to her, hand still moving between your thighs. “Let them put on a show. You’re still mine right now.”

Her fingers slid inside—just two, curling exactly right—and you arched into her chest with a moan that tore out of your throat.

“Shit,” you gasped. “Paige—”

“I got you,” she said, kissing you again. “You just stay right here.”

She curled her fingers again, thumb circling your clit now while her other hand wrapped tight around your waist to hold you in place. You were gasping into her neck, trembling, barely able to form a thought.

Across the bed, Azzi was grinding down on Nika’s mouth, one hand fisted in her curls, the other gripping the headboard for balance. Her breaths were shaky, desperate.

“Nika—fuck, right there—”

Nika groaned into her, holding her tighter, grinding her tongue deeper, loving every second of it.

You were close. You could feel it—your hips rocking against Paige’s hand, thighs shaking, lips parted in a silent cry.

“I’ve got you,” Paige whispered again, licking up the side of your throat. “Come for me, baby.”

And you did.

You came with a sob in Paige’s arms, legs trembling, nails gripping her shoulders like you might fall apart without her.

And from across the room, Azzi let out a broken moan and came too—grinding down on Nika’s mouth, her thighs shaking around her head, body locking up before she finally slumped forward, breathless.

Azzi collapsed onto her back, chest heaving. Nika sat up, lips glistening, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she looked toward you—right as Paige slid her fingers free and kissed your temple.

“She’s still shaking,” Paige said, satisfied.

Nika’s jaw flexed. “Yeah? That’s mine.”

She moved like a storm—striding across the bed, grabbing your jaw gently but firmly, and kissing you deep, letting you taste Azzi on her tongue. It made your head spin. Your thighs were still trembling, but that didn’t stop her from pulling you away from Paige, repositioning you with practiced control.

She laid you down onto the mattress, climbing between your legs without hesitation. “Spread,” she ordered, voice low, and you obeyed before you even registered the command.

“You already came once,” Nika murmured, dragging her mouth down your stomach, fingers hooking in your panties. “Let’s see how many times you can take me.”

Paige, still sitting beside you, watched with interest, fingers tracing slow circles over Azzi’s bare thigh as she caught her breath.

Nika licked a long stripe up your center, and your whole body jolted.

“God, Nika—”

“You’re dripping,” she muttered. “I should be mad you gave that to someone else first.”

But the way her mouth moved said otherwise—possessive, hungry, fast. Her tongue curled around your clit like she’d missed it, like she needed this. You cried out, hand in her hair, already close again. She slid two fingers inside without warning, curling them while her tongue never stopped working you.

Across the bed, Azzi turned toward Paige, still breathless. “So…” she said, her voice husky. “You gonna be nice to me now?”

Paige leaned over, slowly climbing over her. “Baby,” she murmured, kissing her shoulder, “I’ve been nice.”

Azzi scoffed, but let Paige pin her wrists gently above her head, kissing her with slow, dark intent. Paige’s thigh pressed between Azzi’s legs, already feeling how soaked she still was. “You came fast,” she whispered, dragging her teeth across Azzi’s jaw. “Gonna give me another one?”

Azzi bit her lip. “Only if you work for it.”

Paige grinned, then slid down her body. “Challenge accepted.”

Nika was relentless between your legs, her tongue and fingers working you up again faster than you thought possible. “That’s it, baby,” she said against you. “Come again. Right now.”

Your second orgasm hit harder—sharp and sudden. You cried out, thighs locking around her head as she rode you through it, moaning into you like she wanted to live there.

When you finally collapsed, body trembling, Nika sat up, chest rising and falling. “Still mine,” she said, brushing your hair off your face. “Don’t forget that.”

You smiled weakly. “Never.”

Meanwhile, Azzi was unraveling again—Paige had one hand wrapped around her thigh, the other teasing her entrance as her mouth worked her clit with slow, excruciating precision. Azzi was panting, squirming under her. “Paige—fuck—”

Paige didn’t stop. Just grinned against her. “C’mon, pretty girl. Give it to me again.”

Azzi came with a cry, arching into her mouth, hands fisting the sheets, and Paige moaned into her like she’d just tasted something forbidden.

You sat up, still dizzy, only to be pulled gently into Nika’s lap again.

But this time—this time—Azzi reached for you too.

Her fingers brushed your knee, her eyes dark with something gentler, warmer. “Come here.”

You leaned toward her, and Paige shifted behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist while the four of you tangled together, bodies flushed and slick, breath heavy, kisses starting again—everywhere.

This time slower. This time deeper.

Not just heat.

Something more.

Bodies tangled—legs over laps, mouths on skin, hands everywhere.

Paige was still behind Azzi, one arm around her middle, the other sliding back down between her thighs. Azzi melted into it, her head dropping to your shoulder as she pulled you into a kiss—slow, messy, half-lost in the haze of overstimulation.

Nika, behind you, was kissing your neck again, her fingers teasing your breast, voice low and smug against your skin.

“Look at you,” she murmured, watching you kiss Azzi while Paige made her fall apart again. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous when you’re wrecked.”

Azzi gasped into your mouth, her thighs twitching. Paige had her right on the edge again—three fingers this time, curling up, working her with practiced precision. “She’s so responsive,” Paige said into Azzi’s ear. “Feel how tight she gets when you kiss her like that?”

You slipped your hand between Azzi’s legs too—right under Paige’s—your fingers circling her clit gently, in time with the rhythm.

Azzi shattered.

She came again, hard, her whole body seizing as she choked out your name and Paige’s together. You caught her mouth with yours, kissing her through it, while Nika’s hand crept between your legs from behind, two fingers sinking in like your body had been waiting for her.

You moaned into Azzi’s mouth, and Nika grinned.

“Still not done with you,” Nika breathed. “Lean back on me.”

You obeyed without thinking, chest arching as Nika fucked you from behind, slow and deep, her free hand gripping your throat—not tight, just there, grounding you in the overwhelming waves of pleasure. You could feel her breath at your ear, could hear Azzi and Paige tangled together in front of you, Azzi’s hand now slipping between Paige’s legs for the first time.

“Let me,” Azzi whispered.

Paige spread her knees wide, looking downright cocky about it. “You better keep up, Fudd.”

But the second Azzi’s fingers slid in, Paige lost her rhythm—her mouth dropped open, her hips grinding into Azzi’s hand before she could say a word.

“Oh—fuck, Azzi—”

You were watching it all—Paige unraveling for the first time, her dominant edge slipping while Azzi fucked her with slow, relentless strokes. Nika curled her fingers harder at that exact moment, making your back arch again, a desperate whine escaping your throat.

“Touch her clit,” Nika said into your ear, nodding toward Paige. “Make her come for us.”

You reached forward and did just that—your fingers rubbing tight, fast circles while Azzi’s moved inside her.

Paige’s jaw went slack. Her hips bucked, moaning your name now too.

“Shit, baby, yes—right there—”

And then she broke.

Her orgasm hit like a wave, crashing over her in full view of all of you, her head dropping to Azzi’s shoulder as her thighs trembled and her voice cracked. Azzi kissed her cheek, her jaw, her lips—soft and proud.

You weren’t far behind.

Nika had you spread wide in her lap, fingers thrusting deep, her grip on your throat just enough to have you floating. You turned your head, kissed her, whimpered into her mouth as you came for the third time—body seizing, stars bursting behind your eyes.

Every one of you, breathless.

Glowing.

Sprawled across the bed like wreckage.

——

It started with a look.

Azzi on one side of the bed. You on the other. Both of you grinning as your girlfriends lay back, catching their breath from the chaos of before—thinking maybe the night was winding down.

But no.

You exchanged a glance, and that was all it took.

Without a word, Azzi rolled over, crawling between Paige’s legs again, this time slower—intentional. You did the same to Nika, your palm pressed to her thigh as you pushed it open, her breath catching like she already knew what you were about to do.

“What are you—” Nika started, but her voice cut off when your tongue met her.

Paige flinched the same moment, head snapping up, only to fall back again with a low groan. “Oh my god, Azzi—”

Azzi just hummed in response, her mouth already deep on her, fingers gripping Paige’s thighs to hold her still. Paige’s hand flew to Azzi’s head on instinct, trying to ground herself, her legs already twitching.

Nika was no better. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, one hand tangled in your hair, the other blindly groping for something—anything—to hang onto.

And then her hand brushed Paige’s.

Their fingers locked on instinct. Tight. Desperate.

Neither of them said a word.

Paige’s hips jerked suddenly when Azzi sucked a little harder, a whimper escaping her mouth before she could stop it. Nika moaned at the same time, her hand squeezing Paige’s like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to earth.

“Shit,” Nika breathed, eyes rolling back. “She’s—fuck—she’s good.”

“Don’t gas her up right now,” Paige rasped, voice wrecked. “Or I’ll—fuck, Azzi, don’t stop—”

Their hands clutched tighter, forearms pressing, legs starting to tremble.

You looked up briefly, seeing it—Paige’s head thrown back, Nika’s jaw slack, the two of them gripping onto each other like the only thing keeping them sane was the shared overload.

And god, you wanted to push her over the edge. You sucked Nika’s clit a little harder, dragged your fingers along her entrance, feeling her thighs clamp around your head.

“Baby—baby, I’m gonna—”

Nika choked out a moan and came hard, her entire body convulsing, hand squeezing Paige’s like a lifeline.

Paige followed—seconds later—her voice cracking as Azzi buried her tongue deeper, not letting up until Paige was gasping, back arched, thighs shaking.

They came together, clinging to each other, falling apart in sync like they didn’t know how to fall separately anymore.

You and Azzi pulled back slowly—lips wet, proud smirks on your faces as you crawled back up the bed.

Nika looked dazed. Paige blinked slowly like she was just coming back into her body.

Azzi leaned down and kissed Paige’s neck. “Still dominant?” she whispered.

Paige didn’t answer.

Just pulled her into a kiss.

Nika turned to you, eyes heavy-lidded. “You’re such a fucking problem,” she muttered, voice hoarse.

You grinned and kissed her, slow and deep. “Good.”

⸻

A long silence followed—just the sound of breathing, skin against skin, the occasional soft kiss or stroke along a thigh.

Eventually, Paige spoke, her voice wrecked but smug. “…We’re doing this again next weekend.”

Azzi laughed weakly into her neck. “Bet.”

Nika kissed your temple, then looked around at the flushed, sweaty pile of limbs. “Can we just live here?”

You hummed, still too gone to form a real sentence.

But yeah.

You could get used to this.

-

The room was still heavy with heat—sheets twisted, bodies flushed, skin damp. But the urgency had passed. Now it was just weightless.

You were the first to fall back, chest heaving, limbs boneless. Nika collapsed beside you, arm flopping over your stomach, her face buried in your shoulder.

“I can’t feel my legs,” she mumbled.

You smiled lazily, turning to kiss her hair. “That’s fair. You didn’t exactly hold back.”

She made a low, pleased sound. “Neither did you.”

Across the bed, Paige was curled against the headboard, arms loosely wrapped around Azzi, who was tucked into her chest with one thigh still thrown over Paige’s. They looked like they’d been fused together. Hair tangled. Lips pink. Bodies humming in the same quiet rhythm.

“I think my soul left my body,” Azzi muttered, not moving.

Paige chuckled, low and smug. “Don’t worry, babe. I caught it.”

Azzi groaned and swatted her lightly. “Corny.”

You reached across the bed and brushed your fingers along Azzi’s arm. “You good?”

She turned her head toward you, eyes heavy but soft. “So good.”

Nika shifted slightly beside you, her hand slipping beneath the blanket to rest low on your stomach. “This,” she murmured, her voice rough from moaning, “this is so much better than last cabin.”

Paige lifted her head. “That’s because we weren’t competing the whole time.”

“You say that,” Nika replied, “but you definitely tried to one-up me with the leg shake thing.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “I succeeded at the leg shake thing.”

Azzi just snorted into her shoulder.

You smiled into Nika’s neck, letting your hand find her hip beneath the blanket. “You’re both hot. Shut up and cuddle.”

“Finally,” Azzi sighed, settling deeper into Paige’s chest. “Someone with sense.”

There was a pause—comfortable and full, silence settling between all four of you like a blanket. Legs tangled. Hands lazily trailing over skin. Breath syncing up.

“I kinda don’t want to move,” Paige mumbled after a while.

“You don’t have to,” you said softly.

“Good,” Nika added, nuzzling closer to you. “Because I’m stuck. You broke me.”

“Good,” you echoed, lips curling.

Azzi turned her face into Paige’s neck, her voice barely audible now. “Next time, I want a whole weekend of this.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Same.”

No one moved.

No one needed to.

Just the sound of hearts slowing down. Fingers brushing. Lips pressed gently to shoulders and necks. Everything quiet except the occasional shared breath or sleepy giggle when someone’s hand twitched or thigh shifted just right.

By the time sleep crept in, none of you were sure where one body ended and another began.

And none of you cared.

[fandomonetwo]

ain't no sunshine — steve harrington

▸summary: steve just wants cuddles. and he'll play the song on repeat until he gets them.

▸characters: steve harrington x gn!reader

▸tw: tooth. rotting. FLUFF

▸a/n: i did not die. have some happy words.

HE MUST'VE HAD the song downloaded four-hundred times on his cassette tape, because you were just about ready to bash your head in when the beginning notes played from Steve's bedroom. 

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, it's not warm when she's away.

You were in the living room, finishing up some writings that you had due for your classes when you gazed unamused at the ceiling. He'd been playing the song on repeat, singing along badly in order to coax you into giving him some love and affection as you always did on a Tuesday afternoon. Unfortunately, this deadline was currently taking priority, and Steve was being a drama queen about it. 

You still had about four pages to write, as well as some questions to answer before anything else took over your mind, so you had to suffer. 

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, and she's always gone too long, anytime she goes away.

You'd practically memorised the words and melody to this song, mouthing them with good ol' Bill Withers as he provided sustenance to feed Steve's dramatics. You could hear Steve's faux grieving voice as he sang along, making the song a whole heap more dramatic than the original recording. 

Wonder this time where she's gone, wonder if she's gonna stay.

Trying to persevere through the loud stereo blasting muffled music above your head is a lot more difficult than you might imagine. Ever since you had gone to his place in a tizzy that you had things to do before a deadline and couldn't afford any distractions, you had banished him to his room, and for about an hour, had some quiet. 

That changed when the second hour became the third, and the music started when the sun began to go down, reeling on loop as though it was a broken record.��

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, and this house just ain't no home, any time she goes away.

You smiled slightly, though. For all of Steve's dramatics and ridiculous behaviours, he loved you, and you loved him. All of his quirks made him special to you, and you loved to be with him no matter what was happening around the world, especially when the whole Upside Down thing began catching up to him, mentally and physically. Now, he was a cuddly baby that loved hugging you. He always said that he felt safer to sleep in your arms. 

And I know, I know, I know, I know...

He must've given up on singing, because Steve's voice could no longer be heard. Probably ran out of oxygen. Good. He needed to rest after the whole Russian situation. You only had one page left to write and a few more questions to do before you could give your Steve what he needed so desperately. 

A hug. And a fat nap.

You sighed as the tape continued playing the bridge, scrawling your pencil over the paper. You had started with gorgeous cursive, and had evolved into writing chicken scratch to speed up the time. Two questions down, half a page to go...

Hey, I ought to leave the young thing alone, but ain't no sunshine when she's gone.

Three lines, two sentences, aaaaand...

Done.

Throwing the pencil down and thudding the book shut, you pushed yourself to a standing position, practically bounding up the stairs, dragging yourself up by the handrails. 

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, only darkness everyday.

You came to the first floor landing, stepping onto the carpeted floor with your socked feet and beelined for Steve's room. The door was shut, but Bill's soothing voice carried through the wood, almost getting impossibly loud as you inched closer. 

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, and this house just ain't no home, any time she goes away.

Stepping into the room as you swing open the door, the final outro of the song is echoing through, fading away. You smile to find Steve on his back, staring at the ceiling as he waits for the next loop to begin. 

You are silent as you halt the tape, crawling onto the bed and giving him a big ol' smooch. He looks at you with innocent and wide eyes, a big fat smile settling on his face. 

"All done?" he asks. 

You nod, confirming. "All done."

You yelp as he flings himself at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tumbling over the other side of the bed. He's quick to bring the covers over you both, leaving the bed side light on. A new habit, but it didn't bother you. 

You tussled for a little, finding a comfortable position that agreed with all parties and bones. You settled on bear hugging him as he tangled your legs together and kept his nose near your hair. 

You giggled, running your nails down his back. "You big baby." 

He grumbled. "Ain't no sunshine when you're not here."

[goofygubegubler]

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬

You’re trapped with the one person who always gets under your skin. And this time, there’s no escape—just options.

wc: 4.8k |F!Reader (Intern) x Spencer Reid (BAU) | cw: enemies-to-lovers, mutual pining, locked-room tension, flirty office chaos, bratty reader x repressed Spencer, slow-burn heat, heavy innuendo, power play lite, Gen Z banter, Hotch is so done.

A/n: This is a pick-your-ending fic — at a certain point, you’ll choose between smut or fluff, each in its own post with separate warnings and word counts. If you’re into this format, let me know! It just fits certain stories, y’know? Love and chaos—MWAH 💋

The BAU was supposed to be a serious, elite unit. You had envisioned it as a whirlwind of case files, high-stakes chases, and brooding men in bulletproof vests. What you hadn’t expected was for it to be filled with this many attractive people—or for the most infuriating one to be Spencer freaking Reid.

He was unbearable. All logic and statistics and that smug little way he corrected people, like a walking, talking Wikipedia page you wanted to shove into a filing cabinet. And, of course, he always had to insert himself at the worst possible moments.

Like now.

You were halfway up the stairs to Hotch’s office, arms full of paperwork, when Spencer materialized beside you, keeping pace effortlessly.

"You look focused," he mused, sipping from his stupid World’s Best Genius mug. The Caltech logo gleamed mockingly under the fluorescent lights.

You ignored him.

"Or frustrated," he added, tilting his head like he was observing something under a microscope. "Maybe both."

Your grip on the files tightened. "Do you ever shut up?"

"I do. Statistically speaking, though, you tend to provoke responses, so the probability of silence is low."

You stopped dead in your tracks, turned to glare at him, and exhaled sharply. "Do you hear yourself when you talk?"

Spencer blinked. "Yes. That’s how hearing works."

Your nails dug into the folder. "I hate you."

"That seems like a misdirected use of emotional energy," he replied smoothly.

You inhaled sharply, clenching your jaw so tightly it could crack. Ah, yes, self-control. A beautiful, fleeting thing. Before you could hurl something at him—your files, your shoe, your entire existence—you flipped your hair with deliberate defiance and kept walking, your heels clicking a little louder than necessary against the steps.

Truth be told, you weren’t just frustrated—you were livid. Not just because of the mountain of paperwork threatening to bury you alive, though that was bad enough. Deadlines loomed, your patience was nonexistent, and apparently, the BAU believed in torturing interns via bureaucracy. But no, the universe wasn’t content with that level of suffering. No, you had to be ovulating, too.

And your body? Oh, your body had decided to make that fact impossible to ignore. Every brush of fabric, every deep inhale around a particularly nice-smelling coworker—hell, even the way Derek Morgan smiled at people was suddenly a personal attack. And then, as if the gods of humiliation weren’t done with you, there was Spencer Reid.

Unbearably smug. Infuriatingly brilliant. And, much to your horror, the hottest of them all. It was an objective fact, but one you would sooner choke on a case file than admit.

You stomped into Hotch’s office like a woman on a mission, dropping the stack of paperwork onto his desk with a satisfying thud.

Hotch barely glanced up. "Not so easy."

You groaned. "Hotch, please."

"All intern paperwork has to be proofread and signed by a superior agent," he said, sliding the files right back toward you without even looking.

You narrowed your eyes. "You didn't even check."

Hotch finally glanced up, unimpressed. "You think I don't know when something’s unfinished? The weight is off. The stack isn’t dense enough. And if that weren’t enough, you wouldn’t have dropped it like it burned you."

You inhaled sharply, then exhaled through your nose like a bull about to charge. "I know, but every time I try, they’re too busy, and besides, Hotch, you know me—"

"Reid’s not busy," Hotch cut in. "He does paperwork the fastest. Morgan even pays him to do his, not that I officially acknowledge that particular rule-breaking."

Your soul left your body. "You cannot be serious."

"It wasn’t a question." His expression remained unreadable, but you swore there was amusement in his eyes. "Reid is your assigned agent from now on."

Your hands are clenched at your sides. "Hotch, you don’t understand. That’s cruel. That’s a human rights violation. That’s—"

"Efficient," he interrupted smoothly. "And unavoidable. Unless, of course, you’d rather I reassign you to Rossi. He loves a good mentoring opportunity, and I hear he enjoys dictation."

Your mouth snapped shut. That was how he won. Every. Single. Time. He had a way of shutting you up with a perfectly placed, completely infuriating threat that left you with no choice but to storm out with whatever dignity you had left. You inhaled, exhaled, and bit back the thousand things you wanted to say.

But, of course, Hotch wasn’t done. He leaned back slightly, fixing you with that assessing stare that made your spine straighten. "And," he added, "we talked about the skirts."

You smirked, tilting your head, letting your inner party girl out for just a second. "Yeah, yeah, you’re required to say that, but let’s be real—HR only cares if it’s disruptive, and last I checked, no one’s tripped and fallen into a scandal because of my legs."

Hotch’s lips pressed into a flat line, his patience visibly thinning. "I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that."

You grinned, victorious. "Good choice, bossman."

His stare didn’t waver. "Leave."

And because you valued your job (and, fine, maybe because getting the last word on Aaron Hotchner was a dangerous game), you spun on your heel and strutted out, thoroughly pleased with yourself.

God, if you didn’t have a massive, wildly inappropriate crush on Spencer, you’d bounce on Hotch in a heartbeat. Even if he was divorced. Even if he had a kid. Even if he was old enough to be your father. Domineering, dangerously competent men were simply your type, and unfortunately, you were surrounded by them.

As you made your way back to your desk, you let yourself fantasize—just a little. Maybe, in another life, you could have both. A little Eiffel Tower moment, if you will—

"Hey, you in?"

Penelope’s voice pulled you from your wildly inappropriate thoughts. You blinked, turning to her just as she plopped down in the chair beside you. "In?"

"For going out tonight. Drinks, dancing, chaos—our usual."

You hesitated, your attention snagged by movement across the bullpen. Hotch stood by Spencer’s desk, speaking in that low, measured tone of his. Spencer, ever the picture of unbothered intellect, nodded along, his fingers idly drumming against a case file. Hotch’s brow furrowed, and something about the intensity of his gaze made your stomach twist.

"Okay, now I know you’re distracted." Penelope snapped her fingers in front of your face, making you jolt. "What’s got you zoning out like a lovesick teenager?"

You tore your gaze away and cleared your throat. "Hotch just told me I have to start running my paperwork through Spencer."

Penelope’s eyes widened. "Oof. Condolences. What did you do to deserve that?"

"Apparently, Hotch thinks I’m not cutting the ropes as a newbie," you deadpanned. "But he likes me otherwise, y’know."

Penelope snorted. "Oh, sweetheart. That is the most delusional thing I’ve ever heard—and I’ve been in a fandom war."

Before you could respond, movement caught your eye. Hotch and Spencer were walking toward you, Hotch balancing a precarious stack of files in his arms. You barely had time to brace yourself before he stopped beside Penelope, giving her a pointed look.

"Garcia. Back to work."

Penelope pouted dramatically. "Ugh, you are such a buzzkill, you know that?"

"And yet, here I am, still insisting," Hotch replied dryly. He barely glanced at her. "Garcia. Work."

Penelope gasped, clutching her chest like he’d personally wounded her. "Rude. And here I was, ready to offer my radiant presence for a night of fun. But nooo, crushed by the oppressive fist of bureaucracy once again." With a theatrical sigh, she stood, smoothing out her skirt. "Fine, fine, I’m going. But if my sparkle dims, Hotchner, just know it’s on your conscience."

"And yet, somehow, the world survives," Hotch replied flatly. Then, without another word, he plopped a massive stack of files onto your lap. "You and Reid need to redo this entire stack before you leave."

"Oh, fantastic," you drawled, shifting the weight of the folders in your arms. "Because nothing gets me hotter than redoing paperwork with my favorite human encyclopedia."

"That’s between you and HR," Hotch deadpanned before turning on his heel and walking away.

You scowled after him. "I hate this place."

"And yet, you continue to show up," Spencer mused, already pulling a file from the stack in your hands. "Let’s see how much damage you’ve done this time."

"Oh, bite me," you shot back, dropping the rest of the files onto your desk with a dramatic sigh. "Before you start spewing unsolicited critiques, just know that I put my heart and soul into those."

Spencer flipped through a few pages, his lips twitching. "You used gel pens again."

"So?"

"So, it smudged everywhere."

You rolled your eyes. "Forgive me for wanting my bureaucratic misery to sparkle a little."

"And your phrasing," he continued, ignoring your defense. "This is meant to be objective. What is ‘a concerning amount of eyebrow waggling’ supposed to quantify exactly?"

"It means the guy was sketchy!"

Spencer gave you a long, suffering look. "You are the worst intern in FBI history."

You smirked, tilting your head just enough to be insufferable. "Aw, Doctor, you say that like it’s a bad thing."

Spencer just exhaled through his nose and turned back to the files, flipping a page with unnecessary force. "If we ever have to testify based on your notes, the jury’s going to think we’re making it up."

"Oh, please," you scoffed, leaning back in your chair. "Eyebrow waggling is a known intimidation tactic."

"According to whom?"

"Me. Obviously."

Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about the downfall of modern law enforcement before refocusing on the paperwork. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, marking the slow exodus of the office. First, Morgan and Emily strolled out, offering half-hearted goodbyes that suggested they were thrilled not to be stuck with this nightmare. Then JJ, then Rossi—each departure leaving the bullpen quieter, the fluorescent lights humming louder.

By 6:30, even Penelope had fled, but not before dramatically sighing, "Ugh, this is so unfair! We were supposed to have a girls' night. Or at least get you drunk enough to make some questionable decisions!"

"Oh, trust me, I am questioning every decision that led me here," you deadpanned, glaring at the endless stack of papers.

Pen just pouted. "Well, hurry up and get it done so we can still salvage the night! I have snacks, face masks, and enough gossip to fill an entire season of reality TV."

"Maybe if someone would stop talking, we could actually finish this," Spencer cut in, not even looking up from his work.

The clock ticked on, relentless and unsympathetic. 7:15. Then 7:45. Then, somehow, 8:30. The bullpen had long since emptied, the low murmur of voices replaced with nothing but the scratch of pens and the faint hum of fluorescent lights.

And, of course, the sound of your own pulse hammering in your ears every time he shifted, every time he exhaled a little too sharply. The air between you crackled with something neither of you would dare acknowledge—something electric, infuriating, and impossible to ignore. Spencer was always irritating, but tonight, the sharp edges of his voice sent heat straight to your spine. His rolled-up sleeves, the furrow in his brow, the way his fingers tapped impatiently against the desk—it was too much. And he had no idea.

You shifted in your chair, pressing your thighs together, as another agonizing minute crawled by. The warmth pooling deep in your stomach was getting harder to ignore, bleeding into every impatient twitch of your fingers, every sharp inhale you tried to steady. It was making you reckless. Every movement he made—every flicker of irritation tightening his jaw, every absent tap of his fingers against the desk—sent another unwanted jolt through your system.

And you were nowhere near done.

You propped your chin in your palm, elbow sinking into the desk, twirling a pen between your fingers in a half-hearted attempt at distraction. But the numbers on the page swam uselessly in and out of focus, blurring into meaningless symbols. How were you supposed to concentrate when the biggest source of your frustration was sitting just feet away—close enough to feel, close enough to rile you up with nothing more than his presence?

Spencer’s voice was sharp, his presence sharper, and despite the fact that you supposedly couldn’t stand him, your body clearly hadn’t gotten the memo. You were existing in a frustrating limbo—exhaustion pressing at your skull, attraction setting fire to your nerves. Your skin felt too hot, too tight, hypersensitive to every minute movement across the desk. You could feel the weight of his eyes even when he wasn’t looking at you. If you weren’t careful, this night was about to get a whole lot longer in more ways than one.

It took exactly one sharp exhale from across the desk for your tenuous grasp on focus to fully snap. Spencer, who had been nothing but an irritatingly efficient machine for the past two hours, finally looked up. And oh, he was irritated. The pen in his hand hit the desk with a clatter, and he leveled you with something caught between exasperation and begrudging patience.

“Are you even paying attention?”

You blinked slowly, head tilting. “Hmm?”

Spencer sighed, dragging a hand through his already slightly tousled hair. “Your lack of attention to detail has ensured that we need the regional case file, not this—a duplicate copy.” He gestured at the offending document like it had personally insulted him. “Which means, thanks to this mistake, we need the actual original file.”

You stretched your arms over your head, arching your back slightly just for the principle of it all. His eyes flickered downward before snapping back up, his jaw tightening, but you pretended not to notice.

“And?”

“And,” Spencer said tightly, voice teetering on the edge of patience, “Garcia’s already gone for the night, so we can’t just pull it from the digital archives. That means I have to go to the file room and physically retrieve it.”

You raised an eyebrow, lazily dragging your gaze back to him. "Cool. Have fun."

His expression darkened. "The file room is in the basement."

“Sounds like a you problem.”

His jaw flexed. "The file room is on sublevel two—buried under concrete, terrible ventilation, not a single camera, and if that door shuts behind you? You're stuck until someone remembers to check."

You blinked at him, unimpressed. "So, what I’m hearing is: a perfect setting for a horror movie."

Spencer's lips pressed into a thin line. "It’s a security feature."

"It’s an oversight. The FBI, an organization that prides itself on preparedness, has a room where someone could just get stuck until an unsuspecting soul wanders down there?"

He exhaled, slow and measured. "Yes."

You grinned. "That’s insane."

Spencer, to no one’s surprise, did not grin back. "That’s protocol."

You sighed dramatically, leaning back in your chair, stretching deliberately slow. His gaze flickered downward for the briefest second before he forcibly dragged his eyes back to your face. Oh, he noticed. And that little detail sent something devious curling inside you.

“Well, since you’re the one so concerned with protocol, go get the file."

His stare was unimpressed. "You made the mistake. You go."

You scoffed. "Oh, please. If I hadn’t made a mistake, you’d have found another reason to be insufferable. You were just waiting for an excuse."

Spencer inhaled sharply, like he was holding something back. "That’s not true."

You smirked. "No? Then what was that little lecture just now? Don’t tell me you just enjoy talking down to me. That’s kind of kinky, Doctor."

His fingers flexed against the desk, a telltale sign of irritation but also something else. His voice came out quieter, a touch too taut. “The file name is ACB-714. Basement archives, second cabinet on the left."

You gave him a lazy salute. “Consider it handled."

Truthfully, you needed an excuse to step away. The way he’d spoken to you—sharp, clipped, just on the edge of losing control—had sent your brain spiraling into places you did not need to be right now. It was bad enough working alongside him when your body was already betraying you, but the fact that he sounded that good when he was frustrated was unbelievable. Unnecessary. Unfair.

And the way he looked at you? Like he was barely keeping himself in check? Like he was two seconds from saying something neither of you could take back? That was dangerous.

You pushed back from your desk, the sharp click of your heels against the tile the only indication of certainty when everything inside you was anything but. Maybe the basement’s clinical chill would help, its walls lined with forgotten case files and the ghosts of bureaucratic neglect grounding you back into something solid. Maybe the hum of the fluorescents, cold and impersonal, would smother the slow, insidious heat crawling beneath your skin—the heat fed by too many lingering glances, too many tension-laced arguments that never seemed to resolve.

The door groaned as you stepped inside, its weight swinging shut behind you with an eerie finality, unnoticed in your distraction. The file room stretched ahead, a silent graveyard of paperwork, thick with dust and the acrid bite of industrial-strength cleaner. Overhead, the fluorescents flickered erratically, their jittery glow casting restless shadows against the endless rows of filing cabinets standing like sentinels in the dim light.

Your mission was simple—retrieve one file, ACB-714, and get out. But the second you stepped into the file room, your focus was already shot to hell.

Spencer Reid was ruining your life.

Okay, maybe that was dramatic, but at the very least, he was ruining your concentration. He had rattled off instructions with that sharp, impatient cadence, his fingers pressing into the bridge of his nose like he was physically restraining himself from strangling you. The worst part? It wasn't just the irritation that got to you. It was the way he watched you, the way he always seemed locked in on you, even in exasperation.

You wanted to be annoyed. You wanted to let it roll off your back. But your body betrayed you, heat curling at the base of your spine in a way that was neither productive nor appropriate for a professional setting.

Your fingertips skimmed over the metal cabinet labels, your eyes skimming but not really seeing. Was he always like this? So insufferably exacting? So unwilling to let anything slide? It wasn’t just the way he corrected you—it was how he did it. Precise and controlled, like he knew exactly how to get under your skin and lived for it.

It was honestly impressive.

You blew out a breath, pushing your hair out of your face as you rolled your shoulders back. Focus. Find the file. Get out. But instead, you leaned lazily against a filing cabinet, barely noticing how the movement nudged the doorstop at the threshold.

The sharp click of metal shifting barely registered before it was too late.

Your stomach dropped.

The door.

Oh, you had to be kidding.

Panic didn’t hit immediately. No, it crept in slow, slinking up your spine like a cold hand tracing your vertebrae. You turned on your heel, already knowing what you’d see before you even reached for the handle.

Locked.

Of course it was fucking locked. Because why wouldn’t the government’s precious archive room operate like a goddamn haunted house? You stared at the heavy metal door, willing it to magically swing back open. It didn’t.

Your hand flew to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose as you exhaled. This was just perfect. You had let your brain wander off into Spencer Reid–induced nonsense, and now you were locked in an FBI basement because you couldn’t be bothered to properly secure a doorstop.

And you weren’t just trapped. You were trapped while ovulating, which meant your body was already in a state of desperate, hormone-fueled hysteria. Which meant you had spent the last fifteen minutes alternating between rolling your eyes at Spencer’s condescending attitude and staring at his hands. His long, unnecessarily pretty hands, which had absolutely no business looking that good while shuffling through case files.

Great. Now you were locked in a basement, overthinking, and horny.

You slid down against the filing cabinet with a groan, head thumping back against the metal. How long would it take for someone to notice? Would Penelope come looking for you, or would she just assume you finally gave in and quit? Maybe Spencer would realize something was off. Maybe he’d put the pieces together, retrace your steps, and...

No. No way. If anything, he’d think you were just slacking off. He’d probably roll his eyes, make some condescending remark about how you were the worst intern in FBI history, and move on with his night. Because that’s what he did—he got under your skin, poked and prodded and found every little thing that made you tick.

And the worst part? You let him.

You sighed, staring up at the ceiling, determined to push him out of your head.

Then, just as you started to resign yourself to a long, embarrassing night of solitude, a noise broke through the thick silence.

Footsteps. Slow. Purposeful.

Then—finally—the sound of the door handle turning.

The door swung open, and there he was, framed by the dim hallway light, looking every bit as exasperated as you knew he would. His gaze flicked over you, arms crossed, mouth already pulling into a disapproving frown.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, stepping inside with an exasperated shake of his head. "You, of all people, got yourself locked in a room that explicitly warns you not to let the door close behind you. I even told you."

You scoffed, pushing up from the floor. "Wow, Spence. So good to see you, too. Did you miss me?"

"Not particularly," he deadpanned, but his eyes betrayed him, lingering on you for half a second too long. Then, with the same distracted precision he applied to everything, he grabbed the doorstop and wedged it beneath the heavy metal frame.

"There. Now, let's get—"

The sharp, metallic click of the door lock echoed through the room.

Silence.

Spencer froze.

You blinked.

Then, slowly, terribly, you turned to face each other.

"Reid," you started, voice calm in a way that meant you were absolutely about to lose it. "Did you just—"

"No," he said immediately, but his voice had gone slightly higher. "No, I didn't."

Your arms crossed, mirroring his stance. "Then what was that noise, genius?"

Spencer inhaled sharply through his nose, then reached for the handle, twisting it once, twice, then yanking with just enough force to confirm the worst.

Locked.

You stared at him. He stared at you.

"You," you said, pointing an accusatory finger. "Just locked us both in."

He opened his mouth, then shut it, jaw tightening. "Technically—"

"Oh, no. No, technically, Spencer. You just pulled a me."

His eyes narrowed. "Pulled a you? I think not."

"Oh, I think so!" You threw your arms up. "Because last I checked, I was the one who got us into this mess and you were supposed to be the responsible one!"

Spencer let out a long breath, adjusting his stance like he was physically restraining himself from escalating. "Okay, well, panicking isn’t going to fix anything."

"Who’s panicking? I’m not panicking." You were definitely panicking. Not because you were locked in—no, you could handle that. But because it meant you were stuck here. Alone. With Spencer. For God knows how long.

And you were already on edge.

Already warm, restless, caught in some ridiculous hormone-induced haze that had made your brain hyperfocus on things you had no business noticing. Like the way Spencer’s shirt sleeves were pushed up, revealing the lean, tense muscles of his forearms. Or how his hair was just slightly mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. Or the way he smelled—like old books and something subtly sharp, like cedarwood and coffee grounds.

God, you needed to get out of here.

"This is your fault," you muttered, pacing a tight circle.

"Oh, so it’s my fault you got distracted and let the door close on you?" His voice had that smug edge again, laced with something else—something almost amused, like he’d warned you this would happen and was now relishing in being right. It made you whirl on him, irritation flaring hot beneath your skin.

"Yes, actually! If you hadn't been hovering over me like some insufferable know-it-all, I wouldn't have lost my train of thought."

Spencer scoffed. "Hovering? I was doing my job. You were the one lost in your own head, probably thinking about something ridiculous like—I don’t know—lip gloss flavors or whatever occupies that overly cluttered brain of yours."

You gasped, shoving at his chest. "Oh, bite me, Doctor Condescension! Not all of us have an eidetic memory to store every single useless fact known to man. Some of us have normal human brains that get distracted when we’re trying to multitask!"

Spencer barely budged from your shove, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smirk. "Right. Multitasking. You mean twirling your pen and zoning out?"

You opened your mouth, ready to snap back, but the reality of the situation hit you again like a truck. The file room. Locked. No way out. You groaned, dragging your hands down your face.

"Okay, genius, how do we get out? Since you're so brilliant and never make mistakes?"

Spencer crossed his arms, the smugness practically radiating off of him. "We wait. Someone will come looking."

You threw up your hands. "Oh, great! Because getting caught in a locked basement with you is exactly how I wanted to end my night."

He rolled his eyes. "You act like this is some unbearable torture."

"It is!" You gestured wildly. "I could be out right now, drinking with Penelope, having a girls' night, doing literally anything else but this! But no, I’m stuck in here with you, arguing over whose fault this is when we both know it’s yours."

Spencer let out a sharp breath, tilting his head. "You’re exhausting."

"You’re infuriating!"

"You’re impossible."

"You—" You jabbed a finger into his chest. "—are the bane of my existence!"

"And yet," he said, voice dropping just enough to send something shivering down your spine, "you can’t seem to stop talking to me."

You faltered for half a second before scoffing. "Oh, please, don’t flatter yourself. If I had any other option, I wouldn’t waste my breath on you."

Spencer stepped closer, his presence suddenly suffocating in the small, stale room. "Funny. Because despite all your complaining, you never actually walk away."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. This was new. This was dangerous. The air shifted, tension curling like a live wire between you, and you hated that some deep, embarrassing part of you liked it. Too much.

You swallowed, forcing out a breathless laugh. "What, and let you think you’ve won? Not a chance."

Spencer studied you, his gaze flickering down to your lips so fast you might have imagined it. Then, just as quickly, he scoffed, a deliberate shift in his expression that screamed of warning more than dismissal. "See? Impossible. I told you."

Something inside you snapped. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the sheer absurdity of this situation. Maybe it was the fact that you were ovulating, and his stupid smug face was the only thing in your line of sight. But before you could even process the words spilling from your lips, you blurted out, "God, I hate how much I like you."

The silence that followed was deafening. You barely even registered what you’d said at first, not until Spencer’s entire expression shifted—his usual composure cracking just enough to reveal something startled, something unguarded. His lips parted slightly, his breath hitching just enough for you to catch it.

And then, like a freight train hitting you at full speed, the realization crashed down.

You panicked. "I mean—not like like, obviously. Just, you know, tolerate. Barely. In a work acquaintance kind of way. Like an annoying gnat I’ve learned to ignore, except I can’t ignore you because you never shut up, and—"

Spencer surged forward and kissed you.

The force of it backed you against the filing cabinets, steel biting into your spine as his hands found your waist, gripping just hard enough to steal whatever breath you had left. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was months of pent-up frustration, sharp and heated and all-consuming.

You barely had time to process it before you were kissing him back, fingers tangling in his shirt like you needed something to hold onto. Like letting go meant losing whatever the hell this was.

Spencer pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, "Shut up, for once."

You would’ve argued. You really would have. But then he kissed you again, and suddenly, there was nothing left to say.

PICK YOUR ENDING

➤ [Ending 1 – Smut]

➤ [Ending 2 – Fluff]

[rip2mycarradio]

champagne coast .

just a lil thang, makin’ out with harry by the pooool siiiideeeeeeee!! suggestive content ahead ;)

༺☆༻

the sun hung high and proud in the sky, casting a golden shimmer across the rooftop like it had nowhere else to be. the clouds were thin and barely there, like faint brushstrokes across an endless blue canvas, and the sky itself looked like it had been freshly washed—so bright, so impossibly clear it almost made your eyes water. the pool glistened like glass, the water a perfect jewel-toned blue, rippling softly in the breeze. even the city below seemed quieter today, distant and hazy, like the world had agreed to give you a moment of peace.

potted palms swayed gently at the corners of the rooftop, and the air smelled faintly of chlorine, sunscreen, and something sweet—probably that overpriced mango cocktail someone had left sweating on a lounge chair. it was the kind of day that felt like it belonged in a movie, like the universe had hand-wrapped it just for you.

and to top it all off—it was your day off on tour. a rare gem.

which meant exactly one thing: you and harry had every intention of spending the entire day in this rooftop pool, ordering takeout, avoiding everyone, and soaking in every second of calm before the chaos started again tomorrow.

you were stretched out on an inflatable lounger, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of your nose, fingers trailing in the water as harry swam up beside you, pushing his wet curls back from his face.

“how’s it feel being the most spoiled person in this entire city?” he asked, arms folded on the edge of your float, chin resting there like he had nowhere better to be.

you smirked, peeking at him over your shades. “you tell me. you’re the one doing all the work. i’m just floating and looking hot.”

he laughed, soft and raspy, water dripping down his cheek. “true. you’re definitely doin’ the heavier lifting here.”

you dipped a finger into the pool and flicked water at him. “so, what’s the plan for later? tacos? ramen? that super greasy pizza place you swore you’d never eat at again?”

“i’m a changed man,” he said seriously, but his eyes were dancing. “i think i could be convinced to suffer through it for you. but only if you promise to split the last garlic knot this time.”

“no promises,” you teased, letting your foot bump gently against his chest beneath the water.

he grabbed it without hesitation, pulling you off the float and into the water with a dramatic splash. you came up laughing, hair plastered to your face, only for harry to smooth it back with both hands, eyes soft and close and suddenly not so playful anymore.

“you look … really pretty right now,” he murmured, voice lower now, quieter, the kind of tone that always made your chest feel too small.

you opened your mouth to say something, anything, but he leaned in before you could. his lips met yours underwater-warm and slow, tongue brushing yours with the kind of practiced ease that only came from knowing each other too well. his hands stayed at your waist, thumbs pressing gentle circles into your skin, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, melting into him as the world blurred around you.

it wasn’t rushed. it wasn’t hungry. it was just soft, unhurried, like the day itself—like he had all the time in the world to kiss you right.

his mouth moved with a slow, aching kind of intention—the kind that made your stomach flip and your knees go weak, even in the water. he kissed you like he had all the time in the world to figure you out, and he planned on savoring every second of it. his tongue brushed yours again, deeper this time, coaxing a quiet sound from the back of your throat that you didn’t even realize you’d made.

you could feel him smiling against your mouth, but it didn’t stop him. if anything, it pushed him closer, like he wanted more. his hands slid along your back, slick with water, pulling you flush against him until you could feel the firm line of his chest pressed right to yours. the cool of the pool was nothing compared to the warmth of him, the way he kissed you like he needed it—like it wasn’t enough to be close, he wanted to be all the way there.

your fingers tangled in his wet curls, tugging just a little, and he groaned—low, rough, and right into your mouth. the sound lit something deep in your stomach, a rush of heat that made you press harder into him, legs wrapping loosely around his waist in the water.

his lips never left yours for long—just enough to catch his breath, to look at you with those heavy, dark eyes, and whisper, “you do something to me, you know that?”

and then he was kissing you again, messier now, deeper, his tongue teasing against yours in slow, dizzying strokes, his grip tightening like he didn’t want the moment to end. and honestly, neither did you. not with the sun on your shoulders, his mouth on yours, and the city so far below you that it almost didn’t feel real.

he continued you like it was the only language he spoke, slow and warm, like the sun sinking into the horizon. every time his mouth left yours, it was only for a breath, a pause, like he couldn’t stay away for more than a second. and neither could you.

your arms stayed wrapped around his neck, bodies swaying gently with the water, one of his hands slowly slid down your back, all the way down to your ass, like he was learning the shape of you all over again. it wasn’t entirely urgent—it didn’t need to be. the whole world felt like it had slowed down just for this. the quiet splash of water, the hum of the city far below, and the gentle heat of the sun clinging to your skin even as it began to dip behind the buildings.

“don’t think i’ve ever seen you look this happy,” harry murmured, his forehead resting against yours now, noses brushing. “’s like you were made for days like this.”

you smiled, cheeks flushed, fingertips gliding along the base of his neck. “i could say the same about you,” you whispered. “you look… nice.”

he chuckled, eyes crinkling in that sleepy way that made your chest ache. “i am nice.”

your lips met again, slower this time, like a sigh. his tongue brushed yours in a lazy, tender glide, and your heart fluttered at the way he held you—like you were something delicate in a storm he didn’t want to break. every kiss was a promise, every touch a quiet kind of worship.

the float drifted a few feet away, forgotten. the pool was yours. the sky was painted in pastel orange and lavender, and time didn’t exist—not with harry kissing you like this, not with his hands tracing your waist like it was art, not with the sun melting into the water and your heart completely, irrevocably his.

༺☆༻

every time i ask nobody answers heh but lmk if you guys like this. or don’t. ok. yes. bye!!!!

[damnfeelings09]

Style - Shadow's version

A.N: this one closes the little story, I'm not really good writting explicit content but I tried my best. Also I'm not sure if you wanted to stay human or mobian so I kinda keept it vague so you could decide.

“Midnight, you come and pick me up, no headlights.”

You got out of the shower, the steam flooding your room, creating a warm and pleasant atmosphere. Carefully, you walked to your bed where your pajamas were already laid out, while the drops of water fell on your shoulders. You loved your days off. You used to spend the whole day at home, making the most of the time with... ah... there he was again, in your thoughts. You still hadn’t decided what you would do about his message. It had been three days, and all you could do was stare at the screen, wondering what would be the most appropriate response. Maybe a “hello” or “what’s up,” or “I love you” or your personal favorite “screw you, idiot, you broke my heart.”

“This is impossible,” you said. “What am I supposed to do now? It's not like I can just... ignore him?” You knew that was the most cowardly option, but you couldn’t face the situation. You didn’t want to face it. The same day you had received the message, you talked to Dylan and let him know that you weren’t really interested in him and that you only saw him as a friend. It had been hard because you really liked him, but you weren’t in love with him. How could you be when your heart only beat for one person? You finished getting dressed, wearing a long blouse as a nightgown, and leaving your hair loose while looking for the hairdryer. You were halfway into your closet when you heard a ring—it was a new notification. Quickly, you picked up your phone, and once again, his name appeared.

Shadow: I’m outside.

Damn it! Why? What did Shadow think he was doing outside your house?

"It’s been a while since I’ve even heard from you," you thought. Carefully, you approached the living room window and peeked through. You could see his car parked right in front of your door. Another notification made you step back from the window. You quickly read the message.

Shadow: Come out.

"I should just tell you to leave 'cause I know exactly where it leads, but I..."

Slowly, you opened the door, finding Shadow leaning against the passenger door. He had his arms crossed, his inhibitory rings glowing in the moonlight, and his eyes… those red eyes, like two rubies, staring at you intensely.

"You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye And I got that red lip classic thing that you like And when we go crashing down, we come back every time 'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style"

With every step you took towards him, your heart beat even faster. If it weren't for your training as a GUN agent, you probably would’ve suffered an arrhythmia and died right then. Shadow kept his gaze fixed on you, analyzing every move you made. With each step you took, he fought the urge to pull you into his arms. He knew it wasn’t a good idea, that you were angry with him, and although he had promised himself not to bother you again, here he was, once more, in front of your door. But this time, he had the courage to call you. When you were close enough, Shadow stood up and opened the passenger door, nodding for you to get in.

"So it goes He can't keep his wild eyes on the road, mm"

Shadow drove in silence, while you couldn’t stop intertwining and releasing your fingers. Saying you were nervous was an understatement; there wasn’t a word in your vocabulary that could describe the avalanche of emotions you were feeling. You tried to control your breathing, not wanting him to notice, even though it was a stupid thought—there was nothing about you that the ultimate lifeform didn’t notice. You glanced at the dashboard clock. It was past midnight, and you had no idea where Shadow was taking you. You directed your gaze to the hedgehog, but when his eyes met yours, you quickly turned your gaze to the door. If it were possible, you would’ve jumped out of the car right then. Shadow slightly increased the speed, making his car roar as it sped down the tree-lined road. His eyes darted between the road and your face, noticing that you were nervous, and something more—the reddish tint on your cheeks gave you away, and he couldn’t wait to kiss every part of you.

You inhaled and, gathering your courage, broke the silence. “I heard, oh, that you've been out and about with some other girl,” you said, looking down. That was what everyone had been talking about—the new girl who had quickly gained Commander Shadow the Hedgehog’s trust. At first, you didn’t want to believe it, but then you saw the pictures, where he was next to her, a smaller hedgehog, with bright yellow eyes and white fur. You wouldn’t admit it, but that night, you had cried in the bathtub.

Shadow looked at you as he slowed down the car. You had left the city miles behind, and now, you were ridding up the hill. Hesitant, he took the steering wheel with his left hand while placing the other one on your leg, gently caressing it. “What you heard is true, but I can’t stop thinking 'bout you and I.” he said.

“I’ve been there too a few times,” you said without thinking. You didn’t expect to give that response, but Shadow always managed to bring out your true personality. Right there, in his car, with his body so close and his caresses on your skin, you could barely think straight. You looked at him. Shadow had always seemed so damn handsome to you, but seeing him under the moonlight was definitely a religious experience. The sound of the engine accompanied every turn he made with the steering wheel, but it was his gaze that truly dominated the moment. His crimson eyes, deep and mysterious, fixed on the road, while his dark quills seemed to blend with the shadowy interior of the car. If it weren't for the reddish tips, you would’ve sworn they had grown out. His hand never left your leg; instead, his thumb made small circles on your soft skin, and you swore that with that little touch, you swore you could reach the heavens.

"You got that long hair, slicked back, white T-shirt And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt (a tight little skirt) And when we go crashing down, we come back every time 'Cause we never go out of style (we never go), we never go out of style"

The ride lasted 15 more minutes until Shadow finally stopped the car at the hill’s lookout. You knew this place; it was where you had your first date, where he first said “I love you,” and where... where you both had spent your first night together. With every memory, the heat increased, and your face felt like it was going to explode.

“I’m sorry,” Shadow murmured, halting the flow of memories that your mind was traveling through. His gaze was fixed on you, his expression had changed. That cold façade he showed the world crumbled before you. “For... everything.” Shadow had never been a fan of apologies. He always tried to find a way to be right, not because he was stubborn or made many mistakes—after all, we were talking about the ultimate lifeform—but he always took responsibility when it came to you. “I know I made you suffer. You have to understand that I... I... wanted to keep you safe, and I only managed to push you away. I didn’t know how. I still don’t... And I know you don’t want me close, I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I can’t... I don’t want to be without you.”

That was all it took, his confession to you was all you needed to hear. The air was charged with electricity, and every part of you was begging for his touch. You both stared at each other for a second, and without thinking any longer, you threw yourself at him. Your lips collided with intensity, as if you couldn’t wait any longer, as if time no longer existed. There, in the warmth of the car, only you two existed. Shadow took a second to react, the surprise on his face was undeniable, but it quickly turned into need as he took you by the waist, pulling you even closer, as if he was trying to fuse your body with his. Hands gripped, mouths opened, and the kiss turned into something wild, impetuous, where nothing else mattered.

"Take me home Just take me home"

You placed your hand on his chest, caressing his soft fur gaining a soft growl from the hedghog, you took a chance and pull yourself away from his hungry lips for a second. “… just take me home…” you said as you caught your breath. Shadow pressed his lips together one more time, then pulled away from you, making the engine roar. He drove quickly, the trees blurring into a smear. Throughout the drive, his hand remained intertwined with yours.

"Oh, you got that James Dean daydream look in your eye And I got that red lip classic thing that you like"

When you arrived to his home, your home, Shadow opened your door and took you in his arms bridal style, carrying you inside. Your clothes quickly abandoned your body, decorating the living room, the hallway, and the bedroom.

"And when we go crashing down (now we go), we come back every time"

He carefully laid you on the bed, admiring the view as he positioned himself above you, as if trying to engrave your image in his memory forever. He approached slowly, leaving a trail of kisses from your collarbone to your lips, saying how much he loved you after each one. A silent promise was born between you both that day—never again would you be apart... never.

"Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style"

[ellealyssum]

keep my heart warm ✦ zayne x reader ✦ fluff ✦ 700 words

"Nightmare?" He nods, not meeting your gaze. "I didn't want to wake you, so I came out here."

nightmares, insomnia, comfort, zayne needs a hug, zayne secretly likes being called baby, gn!reader

I'm always writing about Zayne comforting you but then I remembered he suffers from nightmares and insomnia and he needs comforting, too. I love him.

also on ao3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

 Waking up cold has to be one of the most annoying feelings in the world. You toss and turn beneath the plush comforter, curling into yourself in a futile attempt to conserve your body heat. The thought of getting up for an extra blanket briefly occurs to you, but you really don't have the energy for that right now. You squint at the alarm clock, the dim red digits reading 02:07. Zayne had said he'd be in bed by midnight. You sigh, bracing yourself for the cold of the outside world and quickly jump out of bed, stuffing your feet into your slippers and wrapping a throw around your shoulders. You didn't want to have to get up, but there was no way you'd be getting to sleep if you had a missing doctor to worry about.

 You're surprised to find him in the kitchen and not his office. He's already in his pyjamas, sat at the kitchen island with a mug of tea, flipping aimlessly through a book. Probably some kind of medical text.

 "Zayne?" His eyes meet yours and you see a flicker of shame in them at being caught.

 "Something wrong?" His voice is slightly hoarse. He sounds tired.

 "Yes." You put on your cutest pout. He may be one of the smartest men in the world, but you knew how to play him like a fiddle when you really needed to. You only leave him hanging for a second, feeling bad at the slight panic you see take hold of him. "I'm missing a certain snowman. The bed is far too cold without him."

 His shaky sigh of relief doesn't escape your notice. "You'd think having a snowman in your bed would only exacerbate the problem." He teases you with ease, because that's what he always does, but you can sense there's something else lurking under the surface.

 "Some may think so." You walk over to him and lean your head against his shoulder. "But this snowman is very special."

 "How so?"

 "He's the only snowman in the whole world that can be warm and cold at the same time." His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly.

 "I'm sorry, love. Why don't you take a heat pack with you and go back to bed? You're tired. I'll be there in a bit."

 "That's what you said three hours ago." You clasp his hand in yours. It's cold, but not uncomfortable. "I won't be able to sleep until you're beside me."

 He pushes his mug away from him with a resigned sigh. It takes him a minute to speak, and you hold his hand patiently.

 "I... lost control. Again." You stroke the back of his hand with your thumb. No wonder his hands were cold.

 "Nightmare?" He nods, not meeting your gaze.

 "I didn't want to wake you, so I came out here."

 You let go of his hand and bring your palm to his cheek. You just want him to look at you.

 "I want you to wake me, Zayne." His eyes are tired, but they finally meet yours.

 "You need your rest," he insists. You sigh. Your big, impossible snowman. Always taking care of everyone but himself.

 "So do you." He's about to argue but you don't give him the chance. "You deserve a restful night's sleep, baby." He softens at your use of the pet name you know he secretly loves. You can feel the walls coming down. "Besides, I can't sleep properly without you, anyway. You can wake me up whenever you need if it means you don't leave me all on my lonesome."

 "I just don't want you to get hurt because of me." Just that one little sentence almost rips your heart from your chest.

 "I know, darling. I know it scares you." You run your hands through his hair, trying to soothe him. "But I trust you, more than anyone else in the whole world. And I can't bear to see you in pain. Please, let me help. I want to help you."

 He reaches for your waist, pulling you between his legs and into his embrace. You stroke his back. He doesn't cry, he very rarely ever does. He just takes deep breaths into your shoulder.

 "Okay." His voice is barely a whisper. "I'll try." You can't help but hold him a bit tighter.

 "That's all I could ever ask."

[wolfiesmoon]

I can't sleep

Ran x good girl!reader

Do i want a bad boy (literal criminal) bf? Yea but i would probably cry if he insulted me or got into trouble in any capacity at all

(i am totally not unironically vibing to pretty little psycho while writing this)

edit: i made a part 2!!

"I dare you to kiss Haitani Ran." Your friend nudged you.

You knew you shouldn't have agreed to this stupid game of truth or dare. You knew your friend was going to make you do stupid stuff like this.

"Like... the big scary delinquent guy?" You asked, hoping you heard her wrong.

"Yeah, that Haitani Ran." Your friend smirked mischeviously.

"How about I don't do that?" The last thing you'd want to do is get involved wth any delinquents or gangs. You have no idea how dangerous Ran could be and even if he wasn't you'd still refuse to kiss a good for nothing delinquent.

"Are you trying to get me killed?" you followed up, realising just how bad this dare could end up.

"You do know that refusing this dare means that you have to do anything I say for a week, right?" Your friend had a horribly evil look on her face. You don't even want to know the things she would make you do if you refused this stupid dare.

But is kissing Ran any better? Pick your poison, you suppose.

"Fine, I'll do it." You said behind clenched teeth, not at all happy about this outcome. You've never even kissed before, and now you have to kiss freaking Ran Haitani. You might actually die.

Why did you agree? What is wrong with you?

This might just be the worst day of your life.

You ended up being a little unfocused in class, making your teacher worry.

.

"Haitani-san." you call out to him, your voice dying off slightly at the end due to nerves. You're the only ones left in the classroom, with your friend watching from behind the door to make sure you actually do it. He looks back at you and you feel a shiver run through you.

Oh my god, you're actually doing this.

He stops, waiting to see what you want with him. You move closer to him, and his eyes narrow slightly, as if he's getting a good look at you.

"Now, what could the class president herself possibly want with me?" his tone was slightly mocking and you would have showed him you're not to be messed with but honestly you'd probably be the one losing in that scenario.

You inhaled sharply, pulling him down by his braids and planting a kiss straight onto his lips. This feels like a bad shojo plot, the "good girl" falls in love with the "bad boy" and kisses him all of a sudden. Except there's no romance involved here. Just a dare.

Is this how you kiss? Why does it feel so strange? That should be enough, right? You can feel your parents shaking their heads dissaprovingly already.

Ok, now you're just kissing him for way too long. It's time to let go. And you try to, you really do. Since when were his arms wrapped around your waist, anyways? And why isn't he letting you go?!

You can feel your friend's evil stare burning into your back. This is not amusing!

He laughed a little into the kiss, pulling you impossibly closer. Oh, so they're both going to enjoy your suffering now, you see how it is.

Still, kissing him isn't half ba-

Ok, you're actually losing it. You need out and fast.

You wriggled out of his grasp, running away as fast as your legs could take you. You heard both Ran and your friend yell something behind you but you honestly don't care.

Why did you ever agree to do this?!

.

That same thought persisted even as you tossed and turned in bed that night.

"Oh god, he's going to send his goons after me and I'm gonna die... And then I won't ever get to become successful..." you muttered to yourself.

"Or maybe he's gonna come and kill me myself after school tommorow... Ugh..." you can't come to school tired, you won't be able to pay attention in class that way. You can't ruin your perfect record by falling asleep in class.

Who cares about the perfect record?! You should be worried for your life!

"And what is that stupid noise, anyways?" you muttered, grumbling and getting up to inspect the source. Another stone hits the window, making you jump slightly. You walk to the window and open it, narrowly avoiding a stone that was thrown your way.

"Sorry!~"

Wait. You'd recognise that voice anywhere.

It's Ran.

"What are you doing here? How did you even get my adress?" you half yelled, not wanting to wake up your parents.

"You shouldn't sweat the little things. Come downstairs." he was smiling calmly, but you still couldn't tell if he was threatening you. Actually, is that his motorcycle parked next to him?

"You should probably put on a jacket too. It's real cold." he added on, and you nervously closed the window, quietly sneaking downstairs and putting on a jacket. Your pyjamas are not the most presentable, but you really don't want to test his patience right now.

You met him outside. What is he going to do to you now?

"Get on." he pointed to his bike, catching you off guard.

"Not without a helmet, riding a motorcycle without one can be really dangerous and you could lose your life." you couldn't help but bring up safety regulations. It's in your nature.

"I told you, don't sweat the details and just sit down." he completely ignored you, pushing you in the direction of the bike. You complied, sitting down on it awkwardly, not sure what to expect. He doesn't seem violent...

He sat down behind you, revving up the engine and just driving off without a care in the world.

"W-Wait!" you were shocked at the speed, grabbing onto him by instinct and missing the way his lips curved up at that.

"Where are you taking me?! I never consented to this!" you had to yell over the sound of the engine, shutting your eyes. He was right, it really is cold when you're riding on a motorcycle.

"And you know what I didn't consent to? That kiss." he replied and your face scrunched up a little, cringing at the not so distant memory. "But that's fine, because that means you're mine now."

"Huh?!" you finally opened your eyes, looking up at him. His expression was a little hard to make out since the only thing illuminating it was street lights that you were speeding past. Is he even following the speed limit?

"I value my sleep, you see. And that little stunt you pulled made me unable to fall asleep. So I figured I might as well give you a little visit." he placed a hand over you protectively, making you worry about your safety even more.

"Who would have thought the top of the class good girl would fall for me?" he looked down at you.

"I did not fall in love with you! It was a dare!" you shot back.

"Oh well, doesn't matter. You're my girl now. And that's that."

[ashen-char]

the altar is her hips 🔞

my masterlist, to check out my other works, is here

ship: anora mikheeva (anora) x fem reader

summary: it's finals week but ani convinces you into taking a sexy break with her.

word count: 2700+

notes: i had a strong urge to name this one "this is me swallowing (my pride)" but false god fit better than back to december lmfaooo. student fem reader suggested here, service top reader and ani loving to tell her what to do suggested here <3 thank youuu

You barely register the sound of heels on the linoleum, steadily clicking their way towards you. The library is packed, after all. With exam week coming up, there's more people here than there have been all semester. Everyone who had been pushing back their coursework is now suddenly cramming it in. You hate studying when it's too quiet anyways, you can't focus that way. Your eyes are glued to the textbook in front of you, words blurring together as you try to make sense of the impossibly dense material. The only thing keeping you going is the half-empty energy drink beside you, the chocolates you had instead of a proper dinner, and the distant promise of sleep - whenever that might happen.

Then, a familiar presence slides into the chair next to you. She must have come to visit straight from work, because it's damn near 5am. Ani's chewing some gum, snapping it between her teeth.

"Wow," Anora drawls, propping her chin on one hand as she surveys the mess of notes, highlighters, and sheer academic despair spread out across the table. "This is tragic. When's the last time you slept, baby?"

"Fuck. I don't know. I don't even think I got proper rest yesterday," you admit. You were tossing and turning all night, the only sleep you got being fitful at best. "I was reciting case study names in my head so I don't forget any. With AI bullshit, the uni's cracked down on making all exams closed-book."

"I can tell. Even your eyebags have eyebags." Ani, amused by her own joke, blows a bubble and it snaps. You roll your eyes, but that makes her smile, reaching over and running her thumb across your cheek. "Don't worry, they're designer. My baby's got Prada eyebags, for damn sure."

You hum in acknowledgement. "Yeah, thanks." Barely listening, unfortunately, even though you want to give your girlfriend all your attention. It's for both of you. All your efforts, your good grades, will culminate in a better life for the both of you. That's what you tell yourself when you have to blow off date night for a deadline anyhow.

Ani shifts closer, pulling out her bag. "I could put some BB cream on you at least," she offers.

You turn a page. The paragraphs are blurring together and while you swear you've read this before, it also looks brand new at the same time. You sigh, rubbing your temples, willing the information to stick. When you reach something you didn't remember from your lectures, you jot it down on your lined paper, highlighting the key words. "It’s exam week. I don’t have time to be cute."

"Good thing I’m cute enough for both of us, then." She grins, stretching her legs out so her foot nudges yours under the table. She’s wearing ripped jeans and a cropped hoodie that definitely isn’t hers - it’s probably yours, stolen at some point and now claimed as her own.

"Whisper at least, babe. If you're insistent on talking in the library." You gesture to all the other stressed-out students, your peers in suffering. While various courses have their exams spread out so there are no clashes, the energy of finals is potent in the air.

"Boring." You glance at her, but she’s already plucking one of your highlighters off the table, twirling it between her fingers like she’s contemplating doing something devious with it.

"How long have you been at this?" Anora asks. She picks up the stack of papers from your other classes, flipping absently through your notes and you watch in case she highlights something. "Because I’m gonna guess… too long."

"Since this morning. And all day yesterday."

Anora whistles. "You know, there are laws against self-torture."

You huff a tired laugh. "Not in Professor Raye's class."

She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. "OK, here’s the deal. You take a break. Like, a real fuckin' break. No ‘just one more chapter.’ No ‘let me just finish this section.’ You step away from this table, right now, and I will personally reward you with something better than whatever caffeine-fueled nightmare you’re living," Anora says, poking your metal tumblr that was once filled with iced coffee - probably melted and watered down now.

You narrow your eyes at her. "And what exactly is this reward?"

She smirks, tapping a manicured finger against the table. "Guess you’ll have to find out."

You exhale slowly, staring down at your textbook like it might physically pull you back in if you look too long. But then Anora nudges your chair with her foot again, insistent, and there’s something warm in the way she’s watching you - amused, fond of you, but also knowing. Like she’s seen a hundred people burn themselves out and decided you won’t be one of them.

You sigh, shutting the book. "Fine. Five minutes. But then I'm continuing this in my dorm. And I have to check this book out."

"Ten minutes."

"Seven."

"Nine."

"Eight and a half."

"Deal."

She grins like she’s just won something. It reminds you of the time Anora took you to Coney Island because you said you'd never been. That night was magical, and you two had so much fun taking turns winning each other prizes. That proud-of-herself gleam in her eyes as she presented you with a stuffed tiger. Anora stands and holds out her hand to you, the butterfly charms glued onto her pretty nails seeming to glitter under the cold library lights.

Snapping your textbook shut, you take Ani's hand when she holds hers out for you, with her standing up in a shot and grabbing her purse. "That's my girl," she purrs. "Grab your jacket, sugar. We're going somewhere that'll make you forget all about... whatever boring ass shit you were studying."

When she pulls you up, she doesn’t let go. She leads you out of the quiet, fluorescent-lit library and into the bustling campus streets. The cold air is sharp, but Ani seems unperturbed, skipping slightly as she walks. Her heels click against the pavement, drawing the occasional glance from passing strangers.

"You really think you can make me relax in eight minutes?" you ask, curious about her plan. You'll give her the benefit of not taking travel time into your little deal though.

"Oh, you'll love it. Promise, babe."

xx

Luckily, the location she had in mind was apparently your dorm room. Ani lies back on your bed with its cheap sheets, her long dark hair splayed out around her. The tinsel in it really makes her shine, if the body glitter isn't enough. When she's unbuttoning her jeans, you tease her, "if making me fuck you was the break you had in mind, remember you've still only got eight minutes."

"Eight and a half," she reminds. "Don't rush this. And get your shirt off."

She's wearing a lacy black bra and a matching thong that leaves little to the imagination, her pale skin glowing in the dim light of your room. She looks up at you with hooded brown eyes, biting her plump lower lip as she beckons you closer.

"Get that pretty face between my legs," Ani orders, her breath hitching with anticipation. "And don't you dare stop until I tell you to. Think of it like studying for that exam - except instead of boring old notes, you've got a girl in your bed. Lucky you."

You like when she tells you what to do. How to kiss her, fuck her, lick her. It's a dizzying push-pull of control, where you're the one bringing her to ecstasy but she's the one commanding you to get her there.

"C'mere, baby," she purrs, voice dripping with desperate desire. Her accent slips out when she's not thinking about it, too focused on getting you where she wants you. "I want your mouth on me. Now."

"Yes, ma'am."

Anora spreads her legs, revealing the damp spot clear on her panties. The sight makes your mouth go dry, your heart pounding in your chest. You've seen Ani dance, have felt her body pressed against yours, but this is different. This feels more intimate, more vulnerable. The time limit you've set on this also adds to the thrill.

"Start by kissing up my thighs," Ani instructs, her voice breathy. "Nice and slow. I want to feel those lips of yours."

You obediently lower your head, pressing soft kisses along the inside of her thigh. You can smell her arousal, musky and intoxicating, as you work your way up. Ani shivers beneath your touch, her fingers tangling in your messy hair.

"I like when you tease me, baby."

"Mmm," you hum against her skin. "I know."

"Fuck, just like that," she gasps, guiding you higher with her hands. "Don't stop, baby. Keep going until you reach-" A little gasp when your tongue flits out for just a moment. Tasting the sweat on her skin from hours under HQ's bright lights, from working hard.

You continue your ascent, kissing and licking every inch of her soft, creamy skin. When you reach the apex of her thighs, you hook your fingers into the waistband of her panties and tug them down slowly, revealing her glistening folds. Ani lifts her hips to help you remove them completely, leaving her bare before you.

"Look at me," she commands, tilting your chin up with her fingers. "I want to see your face when you taste me for the first time. I want to watch you lose yourself in my pussy."

"Position me then." You'll lose yourself in between her thighs over and over if it means Ani's directing you. "You guide where I go."

Her eyes darken. You know she loves the control, it's what she appreciates about dancing at the club and getting suckers falling for her movements. Her grip tightens on your hair, guiding you downwards until your face is mere inches from her glistening folds. The scent of her arousal fills your nostrils, sweet and musky. It's almost overwhelming, in the best way possible.

"Start by kissing up and down the lips," Ani instructs, voice breathless. "Get them nice and wet with your mouth first. Show me how much you worship this cunt."

You lock eyes with her, your breath catching in your throat as you lean in close. Your first lick is tentative, a soft swipe along her slit to test her flavor. Ani tastes sweet and tangy, her arousal coating your tongue. It's intoxicating, and you find yourself wanting more.

Trailing open-mouthed kisses along her lower lips, you relish the silky smooth skin and the taste of her excitement. Knowing that it's all yours. You made her like this. You can feel Ani squirming beneath you, her grip on your hair tightening.

"That's it, baby. Just like that," she encourages, her hips rocking subtly against your face. "Now, focus on the clit. Suck on it, flick it with your tongue. 'til you feel it throb."

You do as you're told, capturing her clit between your lips and suckling gently. You flick the sensitive bud with the tip of your tongue, feeling it swell and stiffen from the stimulation.

"Ah fuck!" Ani gasps, her head falling back against your pillows. "Don't stop, nngh - just like that. Your tongue feels so fucking good." She's almost ranting mindlessly now, sounding so out of it as you keep going.

You can feel her growing more and more aroused by the second, her juices coating your chin and dripping onto the bedsheets below. You don't mind though. You'll buy a spare set some other time, after exam week has come and gone. The taste of her is intoxicating, and you know you could spend hours worshipping her like this.

"Mmm, you're a natural at eating pussy, ain't ya?" Ani giggles as her thighs clench around your head, trying to sit up to look at you know. "I knew you were hiding some skills under that nerdy exterior."

"My favourite meal."

"Oh fuck," Ani whimpers, her head falling back against the pillow as you start to eat her out in earnest. "Don't you dare fucking stop, babygirl. Put that tongue to work, baby. Bury it in my cunt. Show me how badly you want to please me."

You feel a rush of pride at her words, determined to impress her even more. You drag your tongue back down to her entrance, pushing past the lips to thrust your tongue inside, fucking her with the slick muscle.

Everything starts to become a blur. It could have taken hours, maybe minutes. You delve in deeper, your tongue plunging into her hot, tight center. Ani's walls clench around you, like her cunt is trying to pull you in even further, eager for more. Desperate. Aching. You lap at her greedily, savouring her taste and scent, relishing in the way she writhes beneath your touch. You squeeze your own thighs together, your own center throbbing in response.

You relentlessly thrust your tongue in and out, curling it to hit that spongy spot you know drives her wild. Ani is writhing underneath you, fisting the sheets and writhing against your probing, relentless tongue.

"I can't believe how good you're making me feel," Ani confesses, "No one's ever worshipped my pussy like this before. Like they actually gave a fuck about making me, oh God, making me cum."

You glance up at her, seeing tears glistening in her brown eyes. You slow down your movements, gentling your licks as you take in her expression. "Hey, hey... don't cry," you murmur, pressing a tender kiss to her clit. Slowing it down. Letting her acclimate to it all. "I'm here. I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere."

"You really mean that?" Ani asks, her voice choked with emotion. "Because, fuck, I mean... no one's ever said they loved me like this before. Like I'm a real person, not just-not just a warm hole to fuck or something."

You feel a lump form in your throat and you blink back your own tears. "I mean it," you promise her fervently. "I love you, Ani. I love every fucking part of you, from your fierce spirit to your broken places to this perfect, greedy little cunt."

Their words seem to be what Ani needs to hear to reach that delicious, mind-ruining peak. She comes undone with a sharp cry, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her pussy spasms and clenches around your tongue, gushing her release into your eager mouth. She tastes hot and wet, a little sweetness to it. You lap it up greedily, humming in satisfaction as you work her through her high.

As her tremors subside, Ani goes limp on the bed, her chest heaving with exertion. "Holy shit," she whispers, a dazed look on her face. "That was-I can't even..."

You crawl up her body and gather her into your arms, holding her close. Ani buries her face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of your skin. You stroke her hair soothingly, letting her come down from her intense orgasm.

"Thank you," Ani murmurs, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "Thank you for seeing me. For not just wanting to fuck me and then throw me away. I'm not used to feeling so - I dunno, shit - appreciated? Worth something?"

You tilt her chin up and press your lips to hers in a deep, tender kiss. 

"You're worth everything," you tell her. You'll tell her over and over again until she believes it.

Ani kisses you back just as passionately, her tongue sliding against yours. Tasting her own cum in your mouth and all over your face. It's filthy and yet still so romantic. When you finally break apart, you see her cheeks are streaked with tears.

"I love you too, you know," Ani declares, a fierce look in her eyes. "You're stuck with me now. Hope you know that."

And it's true for your sex, but especially true as you build your lives together. So you repeat, "you guide where I go."

Anora shoves your shoulder for that, but you can tell she loves it. Eventually, she goes limp against the sheets, panting and flushed. She looks down at you with glazed eyes and a lazy grin. "Not bad for a study break, huh?" she giggles breathlessly. "We make a good fuckin' team."

Looking at the clock, you're not surprised to see you've gone madly overtime. Her pussy just does that to you. Burrowing in Anora's sweat-slicked chest, you groan. You're too exhausted to study now. "I'm gonna fucking fail this exam."

[lila-lou]

✨His second exception - Pt. 33/33✨

Summary: The moment Ben found out you were pregnant was probably the happiest moment of his life. However, happiness proved fleeting. Now, he is faced with the aftermath of his shattered dreams. Of what is left of you, and what is left of him.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, FLUFF, LAST CHAPTER GUYS-Pls read the A/N at the End <3

Word Count: 6347

A/N: This is the sequel to “His only exeption” - and Part 33 of "His second exception".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙

With that, the door finally shut behind them, leaving the house in peaceful silence. Just you, Ben, and Aria.

Ben exhaled deeply, shifting on the couch as he got comfortable. His boots were already kicked off, his supe jacket unzipped, but he made no move to get up—just leaned back, stretching out and cradling Aria against his chest. His massive hand ran over her tiny back, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles.

“You’re still all scrunched up, huh, chicken?”, he murmured, smirking down at her tiny legs, which, as always, remained curled up against his chest. He nudged them lightly with a finger, only for Aria to wriggle and pull them back in, making a soft little grunt in protest.

Ben huffed a short laugh. “Stubborn. Just like your mom”.

You chuckled from where you stood, watching him settle in. “She’s comfortable like that. You’re not gonna win this fight, you know”.

Ben glanced up at you with that lazy, lopsided smirk you knew all too well. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t planning on losing, either”.

You rolled your eyes, walking over to stand beside the couch. “You know what else you’re not planning on doing?”. You leaned down slightly, wrinkling your nose. “Skipping a shower after being gone for a hole week”.

Ben arched an eyebrow, still rocking Aria lightly in his arms. “What, you don’t like the smell of blood, gunpowder, and pure testosterone?”.

You snorted. “Not on my baby”.

Ben let out a low, amused hum, shifting Aria slightly to free one of his hands. He reached up, grabbing your wrist, and tugged you just a little closer. “Yeah?”, he murmured, his smirk deepening. “But you don’t mind it on you, do you?”.

His voice had dropped into that lower, teasing register, the one that always made your stomach twist in that annoying, predictable way. His fingers ran up the inside of your wrist, his touch feather-light but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You narrowed your eyes at him, pretending to be unimpressed, even as heat crept up your neck. “Ben, you literally just got home”.

He leaned back further into the couch, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “And I seem to remember a certain someone saying they missed me”, he drawled. “You sure you want me to take that shower alone?”.

You scoffed, shoving at his shoulder—not that it moved him in the slightest. “You’re impossible”.

Ben smirked, shifting Aria slightly as he looked up at you with that infuriating, cocky glint in his green eyes. “Still”, he murmured, voice low and smooth, “I won’t shower alone”.

You narrowed your eyes at him, though the corner of your lips twitched. “Ben”.

“What?”. He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “I’ve been gone for a week. You really gonna make me suffer through some boring-ass, lonely shower?”.

You huffed, reaching down to take Aria from his arms, careful not to disturb her as she dozed against his chest. “I would”, you said, carefully cradling her to you, “but I don’t trust you not to fall asleep standing up in there”.

Ben let out a low chuckle, rubbing a hand over his face. Now that he’d finally let himself relax, the exhaustion was catching up with him, weighing down his movements just slightly. But even still, that damn smirk stayed in place. “You saying I’d pass out in the shower? Nah. You’d just have to keep me awake”.

You shot him a glare, rocking Aria gently in your arms. “Ben, I swear—”.

He pushed himself up from the couch with a deep grunt, rolling out his stiff shoulders. Then, before you could react, he leaned down and kissed you, slow and unhurried. His lips lingered against yours, the heat of him wrapping around you, and for a second, the world shrank down to just the two of you.

Your lips barely parted from his as you mumbled, “What about Aria?”. The warmth of his breath brushed against your skin as Ben smirked, his hands bracketing your waist, his touch firm but not overbearing.

“She’s out”, he murmured, glancing down at the tiny bundle resting against your chest. Aria was still fast asleep, her soft little breaths even and steady. “And I don’t hear her complaining”.

You sighed, already feeling your resolve slipping, especially when his rough fingers skimmed along the small of your back, trailing heat in their wake. “Ben”, you whispered, though you weren’t sure if it was meant to scold or encourage.

You sighed, pressing your forehead against his chest for a brief moment, trying to keep a straight face. But, of course, Ben wasn’t about to let this go. His large hands slid lower, pressing against your hips, his touch both teasing and possessive.

“We just put her in the crib and take the baby monitor with us”, he muttered, his voice low, rough with impatience. Then, with a smirk, he tapped the side of his ear. “Not that I need one”.

You narrowed your eyes at him, even as warmth spread through your body. “Ben—”.

“C’mon, babe”, he whined in that deep, gravelly voice, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck, just below your ear. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips trailing lower, slow and deliberate. “My balls are about to fucking explode”.

You let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible”.

Ben pulled back slightly, looking down at you with those sharp green eyes, dark with something dangerous, something insatiable. “And yet, you love me", he murmured, smirking. “So, what’s it gonna be, sweetheart? You gonna make me suffer after I’ve been gone a whole damn week?".

You bit your lip, trying to stay firm, but the weight of his body against yours, the way his fingers flexed slightly against your waist, made it impossible to think straight.

“…Five minutes”, you whispered, finally giving in.

Ben’s grin was pure satisfaction. “Sweetheart, that’s all I need”.

In your bedroom, he wasted no time, stepping back from you just enough to let you gently place Aria in her crib. You moved carefully, ensuring she was snug and peaceful before reaching for the baby monitor on the dresser. Just as you grabbed it, you felt Ben behind you—his chest pressing against your back, his large hands settling on your hips.

"See?", he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Problem solved".

You exhaled sharply, clutching the monitor as his fingers trailed down your sides. "Ben", you whispered, a weak attempt at resistance.

He smirked, nuzzling into your neck, letting his stubble graze your skin. "I missed you, sweetheart", he rasped, his voice rough and low. "Need you".

You swallowed, heart pounding, as he guided you toward the en-suite bathroom. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, he was on you—his hands, his mouth, his heat. His lips crashed against yours, deep and claiming, his fingers gripping your waist as he pressed you against the counter.

"You’re lucky I actually need a shower", he muttered between kisses, reaching past you to turn on the water. "Or I’d say screw it and take you right fucking here".

You shivered as he tugged at the hem of your shirt, peeling it off with an urgency that made your skin burn. "Ben", you breathed against his lips, tangling your fingers in his hair.

He groaned, his grip tightening on your hips. "Say my name like that again, and this five-minute deal is off the table".

You laughed softly, tilting your head up to kiss him again, letting yourself melt against him. "Then I guess we’d better hurry, huh?".

Ben smirked. "Sweetheart, I don’t hurry—I make it count".

Inside the shower, the moment the warm water cascaded down Ben’s broad shoulders, he wasted no time. His strong hands gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed nothing, maneuvering you until your legs were draped over his strong shoulders. Your back pressed against the cool tiled wall, the sudden shift in position making your breath hitch.

“Oh, shit”, you whispered, your hands instinctively flying into his damp hair, gripping the thick strands.

Ben smirked against your skin, his grip tightening under your thighs to keep you steady. “What?”, he drawled, his voice dark with amusement. “Never had me down here before?”.

You swallowed hard, your pulse thrumming wildly in your veins. “Just… Where the hell is this coming from?”.

Ben chuckled, low and deep, his breath warm against your core. “Week away had me thinking”, he murmured, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Had me starving”.

Your breath stuttered as you tried to adjust, your hands still buried in his wet hair. The height, the sheer power in how easily he held you up—it sent a mix of excitement and nerves racing through you. “Ben, this is… really high”, you murmured, your thighs twitching slightly.

Ben let out a low chuckle against your skin, his breath hot as he teased, “That’s ‘cause you’re so damn small”. His grip on your thighs tightened slightly, his fingers digging into your flesh just enough to remind you how easily he was holding you up. “Or maybe I’m just too big for you”.

Your breath hitched, your fingers threading tighter through his hair as his lips inched closer to where you needed him the most. The teasing smirk on his face never faded, but there was something else in his expression now—pure, hungry intent.

“Ben—”. You barely got his name out before his lips finally met you, slow and deliberate, taking his time like he had all the patience in the world. The heat of his mouth sent a shiver through your entire body, your back arching against the cool tiles.

Ben groaned against you, the deep vibration shooting straight through you as he worked you open, his grip keeping you steady even as your legs twitched around his broad shoulders. “Fuck, you’re already shaking”, he murmured, pulling back just enough to look up at you, his green eyes dark and gleaming. “You sure you can handle this, sweetheart?”.

You barely had the breath to glare at him, your fingers tugging at his hair. “I swear to—ahh—”.

Your words cut off into a gasp as he dragged his tongue against you again, slower this time, drawing it out just to hear you whimper. The way he was holding you, the way he kept you pinned like you were weightless—it was overwhelming, intoxicating.

Ben chuckled against you again, clearly enjoying how easily he was unraveling you. “Gonna have to hold on tight, baby”, he warned, his smirk audible. “I’m just getting started”.

Ben took his damn time, dragging his tongue in slow, lazy strokes that had your entire body shuddering. He wasn’t rushing—not even close. If anything, he was deliberately teasing you, keeping the pressure featherlight, just enough to make you squirm but not enough to satisfy.

Your fingers tightened in his damp hair, tugging, but he didn’t budge. If anything, it just made him smirk against you. “Impatient?”, he murmured, the vibration of his voice sending a shock through your already-overstimulated body. “You’re the one who let me starve for seven weeks”.

You whined, your head tilting back against the cool tile as your thighs twitched against his shoulders. “Ben”, you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please”.

His grip on your thighs tightened just slightly, his breath warm against you. “Please, huh?”, he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement.

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to snap back. He knew exactly what he was doing—pushing you to that perfect edge, taking his time just to watch you unravel.

Then, finally, finally, he gave you what you wanted. His tongue flicked against you with just the right pressure, his movements slow but deliberate, tasting you like he was savoring every second.

Your entire body jerked at the sensation, your fingers digging into his scalp as a desperate moan slipped past your lips. Ben groaned against you, his grip tightening, his mouth working you open as he set a pace that was agonizingly slow, but devastatingly good.

“Fuck”, you gasped, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “Ben—”.

He didn’t stop. If anything, your reaction only encouraged him. His tongue moved with precision, slow enough to make you whimper, but deep enough to have your legs trembling around him.

“Better hold on, sweetheart”, he murmured between strokes, his voice low and gravelly. “I’m not letting you down until you break”.

Your release crashed over you hard and fast, your body tightening, shuddering against Ben’s relentless mouth. Your fingers clenched in his damp hair, your thighs trembling around his shoulders as pleasure pulsed through you in waves.

Ben groaned against your heat, savoring the way you came apart for him, his grip firm as he held you through every second of it. Slowly, he eased his pace, letting his tongue drag over you one last time before he pressed a final, lingering kiss to your inner thigh.

Then, with effortless strength, he shifted you, lowering you down onto his hips. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his broad shoulders for balance, your breath still ragged as your chest pressed flush against his. The heat of his body surrounded you, his erection thick and heavy against your stomach, a solid reminder of just how much he’d been holding back.

Ben exhaled sharply, his large hands smoothing over your waist, his grip steady but hesitant. His green eyes locked onto yours, his usual arrogance tempered by something more careful—something rare.

Ben let out a rough breath, his green eyes dark with something deeper than just desire. His hands settled firmly on your hips, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin just above your thighs as he pulled you even closer, your bodies pressed flush against each other.

His smirk returned, lazy and cocky, though there was an edge to it—something more controlled than usual. “Seven weeks, huh?”, he murmured, tilting his head slightly as he let his lips brush against the shell of your ear. “Think you’re ready to take me again, sweetheart?”.

You shuddered at the way his voice dipped, at the way his grip tightened just enough to make your pulse spike. “Ben…”, you started, breathless, but he cut you off with a low chuckle, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Gotta make sure”, he muttered, voice thick with restraint, but his fingers were already moving, trailing down between your legs, teasing at your slick heat. His touch was slow, deliberate. Testing.

He groaned as he felt how ready you were, how your body was already responding to him, clenching with anticipation. “Fuck".

Ben let out a deep, shuddering groan as he slowly lined himself up, the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance. His grip on your hips tightened, his control hanging by a thread as he felt how warm, how impossibly tight you were around him. “Shit”, he rasped, his forehead nearly pressing against yours. “You’re even tighter than before, sweetheart…”.

But just as he was about to push in, you suddenly tensed beneath him. “Ben”, you whispered, looking up at him, your expression shifting from pleasure to something more hesitant.

He blinked, his brows knitting together in brief confusion. “What?”. His voice was gruff, breathless, thick with need.

You bit your lip, a tiny, cheeky grin forming despite the flush on your cheeks. “You need to wrap up”.

Ben immediately froze, his entire body going rigid. His green eyes flicked up to yours, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and pure, unfiltered irritation. “You’re joking”.

You shook your head slowly, biting back a laugh at the sheer look of offense that crossed his face. “Nope”.

Ben groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against. “You gotta be fucking kidding me”, he muttered. “You want me to—after seven weeks—you want me to—fuck”.

You giggled, reaching up to stroke his damp hair. “I know you hate them, but come on, Ben. Unless you want another little chicken running around in nine months…”.

Ben’s face twisted into something that looked both horrified and turned on at the same time. He inhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers digging into your hips. “You’re evil”, he muttered. “You know that? Fucking Evil”.

You only grinned wider, leaning up to kiss his jaw. “So? What’s it gonna be, big guy?”.

Ben let out a long, suffering exhale, his fingers flexing against your hips like he was physically restraining himself from throwing a full-blown tantrum. Then, with a gruff mutter of "Fucking hell", he set you down on shaky legs, his grip lingering just long enough to make sure you were steady before he took a step back.

“Go get one”, he grumbled, clearly annoyed but resigned, his large hands running down his face before he tilted his head back under the hot water. His fingers curled into fists like he was trying to keep himself in check, his cock still standing thick and heavy against his abs.

Before you turned, he reached out and gave your ass a quick, sharp pinch.

You yelped, giggling as you swatted at his arm. “Behave”, you teased, stepping carefully out of the shower.

Ben huffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he watched you tiptoe naked and dripping wet toward the bedroom. “Yeah, yeah”, he muttered, eyes locked onto you like a predator tracking its prey. “But hurry the fuck up, or I’m saying screw it”.

You smirked, shivering slightly as the cooler air hit your damp skin. Moving quickly, you padded over to the nightstand, snatching a foil-wrapped condom from the drawer. As soon as you had it in your grasp, you turned on your heel and walked back toward the bathroom, holding it up between two fingers.

Ben arched an unimpressed brow as you stepped back inside, steam curling around your body. “You look way too fucking smug right now”.

You grinned. “Oh, I am”.

Ben rolled his eyes, muttering something about how he should be the one getting rewarded for his patience. But the second you climbed back into the shower, his hands were on you again, pulling you flush against his chest.

"Hand it over", he grumbled, his voice a low, commanding rasp as he reached for the condom. But before he took it, his lips found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in punishment for making him wait.

"You’ll see how much better it feels without one”, Ben grumbled against your neck, his breath hot and heavy, the frustration thick in his voice. “So get rid of your fucking grin”.

Before you could respond, he nipped at your skin once more, his teeth grazing just enough to send a shiver down your spine. The sharp contrast of the cool air and the heat of his body pressed against yours had you gasping softly.

Then, with an almost annoyed huff, he turned away from the water, shielding his dick from the hot spray as he tore open the foil wrapper with his teeth. His fingers worked quickly, rolling the condom down his thick length with an almost begrudging efficiency.

You watched, still breathless, pressing your back against the shower wall, your body already buzzing from anticipation. His jaw was tight, brows furrowed, as he finished, his large hand stroking himself once before his eyes snapped back up to yours.

Ben let out a deep, frustrated grunt, his fingers adjusting the condom . “Squeezing the shit out of me”, he muttered under his breath.

You bit your lip, trying—and failing—not to laugh at the obvious discomfort on his face. “Maybe you just forgot how to wear one”, you teased, your voice dripping with amusement.

Ben’s green eyes snapped to yours, sharp and unimpressed. “Or maybe”, he shot back, rolling his hips just enough to press the thick length of him against your slick heat, “you bought the wrong damn size”.

Your smirk only widened, knowing exactly how much that would get to him. “I dunno”, you hummed, tilting your head. “Looks like it fits just fine to me”.

Ben let out a dry chuckle, his large hands gripping your thighs tighter as he lifted you higher against the shower wall. “Yeah?”, he muttered, his voice low and edged with warning. “Feel free to keep talking, sweetheart. See where it gets you”.

You opened your mouth, fully prepared to push him further, but before you could get a word out, he shifted his hips, pressing the thick head of his cock against you, stretching you ever so slightly without fully sinking in.

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening against his shoulders. Ben smirked, seeing the change in your expression. “That’s what I thought”, he murmured, pressing a slow, taunting kiss to your throat. “Now, let’s see if this thing holds up, huh?”.

Ben groaned deeply as he eased into you, his thick cock stretching you inch by inch, his grip firm on your thighs as he held you steady against the cool tile of the shower wall. His breath came out in a sharp exhale, his jaw tightening at the overwhelming heat of you around him.

“Fuck”, he muttered, his voice gravelly, lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck. “So fucking tight. Seven weeks and it’s like you missed me, sweetheart”.

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers digging into his broad shoulders. “Maybe… maybe I did”, you whispered, barely able to get the words out between gasps as he pushed in deeper, inch by agonizing inch.

Ben chuckled darkly, his smirk pressed against your jaw. “That so?”, he taunted, rolling his hips just enough to make you whimper. “Didn’t seem like it when you were making me suit up like a damn rookie”.

You let out a breathless laugh, but it quickly turned into a moan as he finally bottomed out, filling you completely. Your walls fluttered around him, adjusting to the stretch, and he let out another low groan, his forehead pressing against yours.

“Shit", he muttered, his grip on your hips tightening possessively. “Gonna have to work this condom off you if you keep squeezing me like that”.

You gasped, half-laughing, half-moan. “Ben—”.

He smirked, rolling his hips in a slow, deep thrust that had your head falling back against the tile. “That’s right, sweetheart”, he murmured, nipping at your throat. “Say my name real nice. Let me hear how much you missed me”.

You barely managed a response, your breath hitching as he rolled his hips just right, hitting that spot that sent sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. Your fingers dug into his damp shoulders, clinging to him as he kept a steady, punishing rhythm, dragging himself almost all the way out before pushing back in, making you feel every stretch, every inch of him.

“Come on”, he gritted out, his grip firm on your waist, his voice dark and teasing. “Seven weeks, and this is all I get? No begging? No telling me how fucking good I feel?”.

You let out a breathless moan, tilting your head back against the cool tile, trying to gather enough words to fire back at him. “Cocky asshole”, you managed, but the insult barely carried any weight with how wrecked you already sounded.

Ben chuckled low in his throat, clearly pleased with himself. “Damn right I am”, he muttered, sucking at the sensitive spot just below your ear. “’Cause I know no one else could fuck you like this. No one else could make you fall apart just by stretching you open”.

His words sent a deep, aching heat straight through you, making you clench around him involuntarily. Ben groaned, his fingers digging into your thighs. “Shit—just like that, sweetheart”, he breathed, his control slipping just a little. “Keep doing that, and this damn condom’s not gonna be the only thing I ruin”.

You whimpered, tightening your legs around his waist, forcing him deeper. “Ben—”.

“Say it again”, he muttered, his pace picking up, harder now, rougher.

Ben growled low in his throat, his grip tightening as he slammed his hips forward, driving himself deeper into you. “Say it again”, he demanded, his voice rough, almost desperate.

You gasped, your nails dragging across his broad shoulders as pleasure built higher, hotter. “Ben”, you whimpered, clenching around him again, making him hiss through his teeth.

“Fuck, sweetheart”, he groaned, pressing you harder against the cool tile, his hands gripping your hips so tight you knew you’d have bruises tomorrow. His rhythm was relentless now, each thrust sending shockwaves through you. “You feel that? How perfect you fit around me?”.

You could barely think, let alone respond, but he didn’t need you to. He already knew. He could feel it in the way your body responded to him, in the way you were already so close, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Ben leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he muttered, “Look at you—already so fucked out, and I’m not even done with you”.

A sharp moan tore from your lips as he angled his hips just right, dragging another wave of pleasure from you. Your legs tightened around him, locking him in place, needing more, needing everything.

His smirk returned, though it was strained, his own restraint slipping. “That’s it”, he groaned, his pace growing erratic. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you”.

You didn’t stand a chance. The pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body trembling against his, his name falling from your lips. Your nails raked down his back, your walls fluttering around him as your climax hit so hard you momentarily forgot how to breathe.

Ben let out a deep, guttural moan, burying his face in your neck as he followed, his entire body tensing as he spilled into the condom with a final, shuddering thrust. His breaths were ragged, his chest rising and falling against yours as he came down, still holding you against the wall as if he never wanted to let you go.

For a long moment, the only sound in the shower was your heavy breathing and the water cascading around you.

Then, Ben let out a slow, satisfied chuckle, pressing a lazy kiss against your collarbone. “Yeah”, he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion and smug satisfaction. “That was worth the wait”.

You huffed out a breathless laugh, your fingers still tangled in his damp hair.

Ben slowly eased you down, but the second your feet touched the tile, your legs wobbled. He let out a low chuckle, gripping your waist to steady you. “Shit, sweetheart”, he muttered, smirking as he kept you against him. “Did I fuck the strength outta you?”.

You shot him a tired but amused glare, your fingers tightening slightly against his forearm for balance. “Shut up”.

But before he could throw another cocky remark your way, his head tilted slightly, his sharp green eyes flicking toward the door. His smirk faded into something softer, something focused.

“She’s waking up”, he muttered, voice quieter now.

You blinked, still catching your breath. “What?”.

Ben tipped his chin toward the bedroom. “Aria. She’s squirming. Smacking her lips like a fucking fish”.

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Of course you can hear that”.

Ben’s smirk returned, though this time it wasn’t teasing—it was fond, almost proud. “I hear everything when it comes to her”. Then, with a final squeeze to your waist, he grabbed a towel from the rack, wrapping it around your body before reaching for another to dry himself. “C’mon, sweetheart”, he murmured, voice low and warm. “Our little chicken’s hungry”.

You barely managed to wrap the towel around yourself before you had to steady yourself against the doorframe, your legs still wobbly from what had just happened in the shower. You shot a glare toward the bedroom, half-amused, half-exasperated. Ben had done this on purpose. No way was that just him getting carried away—he wanted you to feel like you couldn’t walk straight after.

Smug bastard.

Still, as you pulled the towel tighter around you and carefully padded into the bedroom, you found Ben already ahead of you—still completely naked—lifting Aria from her crib before she could even let out a full wail. His broad arms cradled her tiny body effortlessly, and as soon as she was settled against his chest, her little mouth made a soft, suckling motion against his skin, searching.

“Hungry little thing, aren’t you?”. His voice was gruff but warm, and he ran a large hand over her tiny back in slow, soothing circles.

Ben smirked down at Aria, watching as her little mouth suckled instinctively against his bare chest. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Sorry, chicken”, he muttered, adjusting his hold on her. “Ain’t gonna find any food in these”. He gave his chest a playful slap with his free hand. “Flat as a damn board”.

You snorted as you settled back onto the bed, adjusting the pillows behind you. “Well, if she keeps trying, maybe you’ll magically start producing milk”.

Ben shot you a flat look, but there was amusement lurking behind it. “Yeah? That how it works, doc?”. He turned back to Aria, rocking her slightly. “Sorry, sweetheart. Your old man’s not built for the job”.

Aria let out a frustrated little squeak, her tiny fingers curling against his skin as she wriggled, still searching. Ben exhaled through his nose, glancing back at you. “Alright, alright”, he grumbled. “You win”.

He moved toward the bed, sitting down beside you before gently passing Aria into your arms. You let your towel slip just enough to guide her toward you, and the second she latched, her fussing stopped instantly.

Ben huffed, leaning back against the headboard, still very much naked. His green eyes dropped to where Aria was nursing, and after a long moment, he let out a deep, irritated groan.

“This is bullshit”, he muttered.

You arched an eyebrow, biting back a smile. “What now?".

Ben gestured vaguely toward your chest, his gaze flicking between you and Aria. “She gets to suck on your tits all night, and I’m still sittin’ here rock hard”.

You glanced down, and sure enough, Ben was very much rock hard again, his cock resting against his thigh, thick and heavy. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smirk as you looked back up at him. “You weren’t kidding”, you murmured, amusement lacing your tone.

Ben huffed dramatically, throwing his head back against the headboard. “Yeah, no shit”, he grumbled. His hand dropped to his stomach, fingers twitching slightly like he was resisting the urge to do something about it. “You think I was just talking to hear myself?”.

You chuckled softly, shifting Aria slightly as she continued to nurse, her tiny hands resting against your chest. “Well”, you teased, voice light, “looks like you’ve got a real problem”.

Ben turned his head toward you, his green eyes dark with something equal parts frustration and amusement. “You think this is funny?”, he muttered, his voice lower now, rougher. His free hand trailed along the edge of your towel, teasing at the skin of your hip. “You sitting there all bare, feeding my kid, while I’m sitting here—like this?”. His eyes flicked downward pointedly, his grip tightening ever so slightly on your hip.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you adjusted Aria slightly in your arms. “How is that even possible?”, you teased, casting a glance at Ben’s still-throbbing erection. “You just—literally minutes ago—shot your shot”.

Ben let out a gruff scoff, rubbing a hand down his face before grumbling, “It’s like you just met me”. His green eyes flicked back to you, smirking despite his obvious frustration. “You really think once is enough after a seven weeks break? Sweetheart, I don’t even know what ‘satisfied’ means when it comes to you”.

Sure enough, the second Aria had finished nursing and drifted back to sleep, Ben wasted no time. He carefully laid her in the crib and wheeled her in the bathroom, his movements surprisingly delicate for someone so naturally rough. The moment he turned back to you, however, his restraint snapped like a thread pulled too tight.

“Finally”, he muttered under his breath, his hands already tugging at the towel loosely wrapped around you.

You barely had time to react before he had you pinned beneath him, his massive frame pressing you into the mattress, his mouth claiming yours with a hunger that sent heat straight through you. It wasn’t slow, wasn’t careful—Ben had been holding back for too damn long, and now, he was making up for lost time.

And he didn’t stop at once.

Even after the first time, when your body was still shuddering from the aftershocks, Ben wasn’t finished. He barely gave you time to catch your breath before he had you again—his grip firm, his pace relentless, his voice a low growl against your ear, telling you exactly how much he missed this, missed you.

The second round bled into a third, and somewhere in between, you were barely coherent, your mind foggy from pleasure and exhaustion. You weren’t sure when you finally passed out, only that the last thing you felt was Ben’s strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you against his chest as he let out a deep, satisfied sigh.

You woke up hours later, still tangled in him, his arm slung possessively around your waist, his breathing deep and steady. Even in sleep, his grip on you never loosened—as if even now, he wasn’t letting go.

Ben never thought he’d get here.

Not in a million years. Not after everything.

His whole life, he’d been told what he was—what he was made for. A soldier. A weapon. Indestructible, untouchable. Love? That was for men with the luxury of normal lives. Family? That was for people who weren’t designed in a lab, for people who weren’t engineered to be a symbol instead of a person.

He was meant to fight, not to feel.

But then, there was you.

His only exception.

The one person who had seen him—really seen him. Past the legend, past the propaganda, past the violence that had built him up and broken him down a thousand times over. You hadn’t flinched, hadn’t turned away, hadn’t seen a monster when you looked at him.

You had seen Ben.

And somehow, impossibly, you had made him believe that he could be more than just the wreckage of the past.

And then, against all odds, against all reason—there was her.

Aria.

A baby he never thought he could have. A baby no one thought he should have. Proof that whatever the hell was in his DNA, whatever was in yours—it worked. Something that shouldn’t have been possible, and yet, there she was. A miracle born from all the things he thought he could never have.

But none of it had come easy.

Nothing in his life ever did.

You had nearly died bringing Aria into this world. And for the first time in his life—his long, brutal, war-torn life—Ben had felt helpless. Not the kind of fear that pumped adrenaline through his veins, not the kind that made him throw the first punch just to make sure he got the last. No, this was the kind of fear that had nearly broken him in half.

The kind that came from standing there, useless, watching you slip away, watching doctors scramble. And for all his strength, for all his power, for all the fights he had survived, he couldn’t fight for you.

But you made it. Aria made it.

And now, years later, as he stood on the porch of your home—Aria’s tiny hand gripping his index finger, her soft chestnut curls bouncing as she tried to match his long strides—he knew what peace felt like.

Not the silence after a battle. Not the weightless nothingness of another mission completed. This.

The sound of Aria’s laughter, the warmth of your gaze as you watched them, the way his world had finally stopped spinning just long enough for him to hold it in his hands.

You stood a few feet away, arms crossed over your chest, a knowing grin playing at your lips. “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger”, you teased.

Ben scoffed, but his hand instinctively tightened around Aria’s. “Nah”, he muttered, glancing down at her. “She’s just lucky I like her”.

Aria giggled, her green eyes—so much like his—glowing with mischief. She had your heart, your warmth, but that sharp, unrelenting attitude? That was all him.

“You ready, chicken?”, Ben asked, smirking down at her.

“For what?”, she chirped.

Ben scooped her up effortlessly, holding her up high, ready to swing her around the way she loved it as he turned to you.

But then, his sharp green eyes flicked to your stomach before settling on your face, and just for a second—his smirk faltered.

There it was again.

That feeling. That realization. That fucking exception.

Because there was going to be another one.

And suddenly, his second exception?

Didn’t seem like his last.

-The End-

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

A/N:

And just like that, another chapter of Ben’s story—the one he never thought he’d have—closes. But that doesn’t mean the story is over.

Not yet.

Because life isn’t wrapped up in neat, final endings. It’s made up of moments. Little glimpses of laughter at the dinner table, whispered conversations in the middle of the night, arguments over whose turn it is to change the diaper, and stolen kisses when no one is looking.

And there’s still more to tell.

They’re still not married—because of course, Ben being Ben, he drags his feet on that, even though it’s inevitable. There’s another baby on the way, another exception he never saw coming. Aria is getting older, showing more of that sharp wit and stubborn attitude that is so clearly inherited from both of them. And Ben? He’s still figuring out how to be the kind of man who deserves all this.

So consider this story open-ended.

I’ll be adding occasional updates, little moments from their lives—some sweet, some messy, some absolutely chaotic, because let’s be honest, a life with Ben will never be boring.

After all, for a man who never thought he’d have exceptions, he sure keeps making them.

So one last time for now... Please let me know what you think. 🥰

-

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