#I just have to make sure not to push her too hard

[moechies]

older shiu who makes you fuck yourself on a dildo in front of him becuase he can’t fuck you—can’t get hard without those stupid little pills because of his growing age. ♡

and you pout, sniffle and whine when he tells you to put a show on for him instead of taking you into his hold and fucking you senseless on the memory mattress of his penthouse overlooking the ocean view.

you’re still whining, even when tugging down your panties to reveal that pretty, fresh pussy that he’s been looking forward to all day— and he thinks it must be a curse bestowed upon him not being able to get hard at the sight before him. perhaps it’s karma for all of his previous sins— he doesn’t know.

and when you finally slip your cotton panty off your left leg, it hanging from your right angle as you shakily spread your legs, taking the pink, transparent toy to slide it up and down against your slick.

you hiss, breath hitching weakly at the lack of preparation, realizing just how tantalizing it is to press the rather small toy (in comparison to him, at least) in without the help of your lover.

“sh—shiu, please, prep me, h—help, shiu!”

you whimper, dropping the toy and tossing your arms around the thick of his neck.

“oh darling, i told you to put a show on for me, didn’t i? you can’t even finger yourself open?” he scoffs condescendingly, only shaking your head with soft sniffles against his chest.

“pleaseee, daddy!”

“how cruel. do you know how weak you make me, little lady?”

you gasp when you feel a thick finger press against your soddened slit, barely slipping inside your gooey walls before curling the joint up.

“haaah, daddy!”

“there you go.” he whispers when you fall pliant against his hold, back against his burly chest with his free hand splayed across your tummy—tracing soft circles across your hips. “my good girl.”

“you can’t even take that little cock without needin’ my help baby? what would you do without me, baby.”

you writhe when his thumb presses down on your clit, circling the sensitive nub so perfectly that you almost think he’ll let you cum. but your fantasies are resolved to nothing, “there you go baby.” shiu grunts, quickly removing his fingers from your pussy and reaching for the dildo yet again.

“here baby. utilize this. make y’r daddy proud?”

you thrash in frustration, whining out loud as you take the stupid, stupid toy into your hands.

“daddy, wan’ you to d—do it.”

“what, fuck you with it?”

you nod slowly, teary eyes so awfully big and alluring that he almost falls for your little scenic ploy.

“no, baby, do it yourself.” he knows you all too well.

and with a bit of bargaining and some more incessant whining, you find yourself splayed in front of the man once again, your calves stepping over his thighs from where he sits, the pink toy held promptly in between your thighs.

you can’t help the soft cry that leaves your lips after pushing in the tip of the toy— much harder and nonetheless, cold in comparison to your husbands cock. compared to shiu, the toy deems to be unfulfilling and fustrating to use after months of laying prettily under your husband and allowing him all the work.

“da—daddy,”

“yes, darling? do you like it? bein’ a little exhibitionist f’me, hon? i sure do.”

“a..am i doing it r—right?” you sigh, mindlessly pushing in further and helping at the unexpected pain you had never even fell close to feeling when your husband was doing the word.

“not quite. have some rhythm, baby. you’re just pushing it into my poor cunny relentlessly.”

“noo… please, don’t wa—wanna, wan’ you to do it!”

“you’re too spoiled, baby.”

nonetheless, shiu pulls you into his much bigger lap, taking the toy into his left hand and spreading the fatty lips of your pussy with his right.

“she’s all swollen, you’ve been so mean to her. treatin’ her so bad.”

all you can manage is to whimper out a sorry, thumping your leg in desperation.

“listen up now,” shiu instructs, pressing the sticky tip of the dildo to your slit at a lower angle in contrast to your previously straight one. “see how i’ve angled it? isn’t that always how i fuck you? and it never hurts, does it?”

“no, daddy.” you whimper, thighs quivering in anticipation.

“good, now,” he grunts, pressing the tip in so swiftly that it makes you wince. “hnn—“

“look, i’ll fuck you with rhythm, and you’ll feel the difference between how you and i did it. alright?” you only gasp, incapable of a word response and only nodding incessantly.

he pumps the toy into you with fervor, slowing when he presses the toy in deeper and deeper until the plastic base barely touches your soppy cunt. he pulls the toy out much faster, keeping his consistent pace with rudy pummels to your simulated cunt.

“d—daddy!”

you clasp your thighs around the toy—which was much more manageable when he had his waist in between your little thighs that make it physically impossible to avoid his fuckings.

"don't shut your legs doll. i'll stop and you won't cum at all if you do it again." the man growls, pinching at the skin of your thigh. you yelp, spreading your thighs again to avoid conflict with the man.

"you look like you're enjoying this too much, darling. are you even taking this as a learning experience?"

you nod, unsure of what he really even said but if it meant he'd keep up with his pace-you didn't care. you gasp, breath hitching when he stops adruptly. removing the slicked up toy from your clenching cunt.

"here," shiu hands you the sticky toy, feeling your eyes well with tears and bottom lip tremble when you realize,

"you know how to do it now, right? fuck yourself, then, and it better impress me.”

[cod-indulgences]

TF141 x female!reader, poly tf141, oral, nipple and breast abuse, overstimulation, vibrators, squirting, Dom/sub, subspace, free use dynamics

under the cut for length

part 2 of this

Soap makes it to the car first by virtue of being a dirty cheater, yanking Gaz back by the shirt collar with a whoop. He barely waits for the door to slide closed before he's on you, yanking your skirt up and panties down. Gaz picks up the discarded bit of cloth and fucking smells it, holding your gaze as he licks the soaked cotton.

Your pussy clenches and Johnny moans, settled right at eye level with your clit, thumbing your folds apart to lick up your come with a flat, hot tongue. You squeal and reach for Gaz as Price and Simon climb into the front, needing someone to hold onto as Soap shoves his tongue into you with no warning.

He's enthusiastic with your pussy, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it hard enough to make you shout, Gaz groping your breasts as you squirm. Soap can't move, he's wedged into the footwell between Price's seat and yours, which means his broad shoulders have your thighs splayed and your body wedged back into your seat, no escape from his mouth. The vibrator is still in you as well, curved up against your g-spot, and you keep clamping down on it when Soap drags you close to coming. He won't let you get there though, the fucker, and you gasp for Price to have mercy on your poor swollen clit, just let you come, you behaved at the bar-

Price laughs and shakes his head. "Still not my decision love," he says, and you look at Simon who waves the remote at you cheekily.

"Not sure I like you looking to him first, you know I've got the control tonight," he says, and "Gaz, go ahead and get rough with her tits if she's having a hard time not coming."

You moan in despair as Soap wiggles his tongue along your hole where the vibrator sits, and Gaz drags your shirt up and off, bra coming with it in a tangle of elastic. Your skirt is just a belt around your waist now and you whine as Gaz kisses your neck, soft and sweet, before he gets your nipple in his hand and pinches. You yelp and then shout louder as he squeezes, your nipple crushed between his thumb and finger, unable to push him away enough for relief. When he finally lets go you gasp and shudder, sobbing as Soap pops his mouth off your clit.

"You act like you hate it, bonnie, but I'm fucking near drowning in your cunt," he says, and rubs his jaw through your pussy to prove it, letting the other men hear the wet sloppy sounds. Gaz groans, and you flinch as he pinches your other nipple, but he lets go before he can bruise it like the other- instead, oh fuck, he's slapping your tits instead, hard smacks of his hand that make you yelp, pinned down between both men. Each suck and lick at your cunt drags you closer to orgasm, each smack on your breasts startles you out of it, Gaz pinching ruthlessly when he thinks you're getting too close. Your breasts are soon marked with little red bruises, your nipples swollen and sore where he's twisted them and tugged until you sobbed at him to let go, and your clit is a solid hot throb between your legs.

Then Simon turns the vibrator on.

You scream loud enough Price's hands jerk at the wheel. "Fuck, fuck, Simon please I need to come I need it please- please, god, oh fuck oh god, Simon, Simon please please please!!" Soap's on your clit, sucking it so hard he's got nearly your whole pussy pulled into his mouth; Gaz has twisted himself around to get both hands on your tits and is pulling your nipples so tight you think they're going to come off, and through it all the vibrator buzzes, unstoppable, stronger and stronger until you don't have anything left in you but the hair-thin control of not allowed to come yet.

Under your screaming and Soap's moaning and Gaz's swearing you hear a command you'd die for right now.

"You can come, love."

You know you scream again, back arching as much as it can, and your eyes roll back as you come and come and come, a full body spasm that doesn't stop, because Simon hasn't turned the vibrator back off.

You sob and beg, weeping, Gaz releasing your nipples with a rush of blood back to the abused flesh that stings and burns, and when finally the damned thing falls quiet you collapse against Gaz, limp.

Soap lays his head against your thigh, panting, and through the come-drunk haze you hear him gasp "Fuck Si, I wasn't joking about drowning, she just squirted down my fucking throat," and you hear him groan and shudder between your legs- oh, he was jerking off to you coming, and there's a wet splatter on your pussy as his come streaks over you.

Gaz moans and thumbs your nipples, and you whine, too fucked to protest, as he drags you to lay across the seat. Your mouth falls open as he gets his cock out and works it between your lips, holding your head in both hands and fucking up into your mouth like a sex toy- you can't move, and just let him take you, drooling down his cock. You can't even muster up the energy to choke when his cock bumps into your throat, then deeper. Everything is too soft, too blissed out and fucked out, your body thrumming with phantom sensations as Gaz uses your throat. He comes fast, pushing you down all the way, and you manage to swallow some of his come before he lifts you up and the rest drools out down your chin.

The door opens- oh, you're home. Simon looks at you upside down from where your head hangs over Gaz's lap.

"sweet thing, you look rode hard and put away wet," he comments, and you giggle at him.

"Not rode an'thin yet Siiii," and he lifts you up and carries you in where Price has turned the lamps on in the bedroom. Soap and Gaz trail behind you, the two men stumbling up the steps, come drunk on their own.

Simon spills you out onto the bed, and you smile giddily up at Price as he strips the belt from his pants, and snaps the leather.

[00valentina-writes00]

I love ur writing!! I was wondering if you could do Virgin reader x Sevika.

Ofc <3

✞⛧ All in 100% ✞⛧

Warnings: first time sex, oddly gentle sevika if you’re into that, fingering

Zaun hums outside, the neon glow barely filtering through the heavy curtains of Sevika’s apartment. The room smells like metal, whiskey, and the lingering burn of cigars, but beneath it all, there’s something distinctly her—warm, steady, grounding. The air is thick, charged with the weight of something inevitable, something that has your heart hammering inside your chest.

You sit on the edge of her bed, knees pressed together, fingers twisting in your lap. Your body feels too hot, too tight, and she’s right there in front of you, all broad shoulders and quiet intensity, watching you with that sharp, unreadable gaze.

“You nervous?” Her voice is low, smooth, a little raspy from years of smoke.

You swallow hard, nodding.

Sevika exhales slowly through her nose, kneeling in front of you with a quiet kind of ease, like she’s done this a thousand times before. Her metal arm rests against her thigh, but her other hand reaches for you, warm fingers brushing over your knee, then higher, smoothing over your thigh. Testing.

“You don’t have to do this,” she says, voice quieter now.

“I want to.” The words come out softer than you mean them to, but Sevika hears you.

Her eyes darken slightly, and she leans in, her breath warm against your skin. “Then let me take care of you.”

She moves slowly, undressing you like it’s something sacred. Her fingers work the buttons of your shirt with unhurried precision, sliding the fabric down your arms, exposing inch after inch of bare skin. Her lips brush over your collarbone, the heat of her mouth leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Fuck,” she murmurs, pulling back just enough to look at you, her fingers ghosting over your stomach, tracing the nervous tremor in your muscles. “You’re so damn pretty.”

Your breath catches when she pushes you back onto the mattress, settling between your thighs, the weight of her keeping you in place. The smell of her—leather, smoke, sweat—invades your senses, dizzying, intoxicating.

Her lips find yours, firm and slow, the taste of whiskey lingering as she coaxes you deeper, tilting your chin up to control the pace. She doesn’t rush—she lets you feel every movement, every shift of her body against yours, until the nervous tension in your limbs starts to melt.

Her hands trail lower, fingers slipping between your legs ,through your slick folds, teasing over the damp heat pooling there. You jolt at the first touch, a soft gasp spilling from your lips.

Sevika groans, pressing her forehead against yours. “Shit… you’re soaking.”

A flush burns across your skin, but before you can say anything, her fingers press a little more firmly, rubbing slow, lazy circles into your hood that have your thighs trembling.

“Just relax,” she murmurs, kissing along your jaw, her voice nothing but heat and patience. “Let me in.”

And when she finally pushes inside—slow, careful, making sure you feel every inch—you whimper, your body tensing around her. She groans, fingers stilling for a moment, letting you adjust, her other hand smoothing up your stomach, grounding you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” she breathes, voice tight. “You feel so fucking good.”

She moves slowly at first, deep, controlled strokes that have pleasure curling in your stomach, have your fingers digging into the sheets, into her. Her name slips past your lips, breathless and desperate, and something about it makes her shudder.

“Yeah?” she mutters against your skin, lips brushing over your pulse. “You like that, baby?”

Your body responds before your mouth can, hips rolling up, chasing the friction, the pressure building deep inside you. Sevika groans, her fingers pressing deeper, curling just right, making you see stars.

“Fuck—there it is,” she mutters, watching the way your body arches, the way you writhe beneath her. “That’s what you needed, huh?” Her thumbs draws slow circles around your clit.

You can’t answer. Your body does it for you, clenching around her fingers, your breath breaking into gasps as the pleasure builds and builds until it’s too much, until you’re trembling beneath her, crying out her name as you fall apart.

Sevika holds you through it, her arm wrapped around you, her lips pressed against your temple as aftershocks ripple through your body. She stays close, her warmth solid against you, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over your skin as you catch your breath.

“Told you I’d take care of you.”

[greengoblinswifey]

Safe Haven—Hwang In-ho/Player 001 x Fem!Reader

summary— The violence of the games leave you pondering—you don’t want to die a virgin and you ask the one man who you trust and who’s always saved you for help. Based on this request.

warnings— age gap(reader is in her 20s, he’s in his early 50s) mentions of death, mentions of virginity, virgin!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, praise kink, fluff, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare.

The first time you met Young-il, he saved your life.

The second time, he did it again.

By the third time, you stopped questioning it.

The games were a nightmare, a twisted sequence of death where survival felt more like a borrowed moment than a right. But through it all, Young-il had been there, his sharp eyes catching danger before you even saw it, whether it be saving you from other players or having your back in each game. You didn’t know why he did it, but you trusted him. In a place where trust was a gamble, you took the risk.

Tonight, the two of you sat in the corner of the dormitory, backs against the cold metal bunks. Most of the other players had settled into uneasy sleep, but you couldn’t, not with the weight of potential death pressing down upon you.

“You should get some rest,” Young-il murmured beside you.

You shook your head, fingers twisting in the hem of your thin uniform. “I can’t.”

Silence fell between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. You glanced at him, taking in the way the dim lighting flattered his chiseled face. He was older than you, more composed, like he had seen enough of the world to understand it in ways you never could.

And yet, he was still here. Still surviving. Still saving you.

“Young-il,” you said as you took a breath.

He turned his head slightly, watching you. You swallowed hard, fingers tightening. “I don’t want to die a virgin.”

“I’m scared, what if I die? What if I die without experiencing anything. I want you to take my virginity,” you said, out of breath.

Something flickered in his gaze—surprise, maybe, or something softer. But his face remained unreadable, his body still. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t tease.

Instead, he simply asked, “Are you sure?”

You nodded, heart hammering. “I trust you.”

That was the truth. You didn’t know him outside of the game, but you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. You knew that if this was your last chance to experience something human, something real, you wanted it to be with him. He made you feel safe and cared for.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said after he studied you for a long moment.

No hesitation, just understanding, exactly what you needed in the moment.

He reached out, brushing his fingers along your jaw, his touch soft, as if waiting for you to change your mind. When you didn’t pull away, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You don’t have to do this because you’re scared,” he murmured.

“I know,” you whispered. “I want to.”

From your lips, he kissed his way down, trailing soft touches along your jaw, your throat, the slope of your shoulder. Every kiss felt delicate, like he was memorizing you in pieces. His hands remained careful, never pushing, always waiting for your silent permission.

When he reached the hem of your uniform, he paused, meeting your gaze again. “I want you to tell me if anything feels wrong. If you want to stop.”

“I will,” you nodded, your breath shaky.

Slowly, he peeled away the thin fabric, revealing your naked body to the cool air. But there was no hunger in his gaze, no rush. Just admiration.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your waist, his touch sending warmth through your pussy. He kissed you again, slower this time, savoring it, making sure you felt how much this meant—not just to you, but to him too.

His hands skimmed over every inch of you, his lips following, never leaving a space untouched. And when he moved lower, when he pressed one last kiss to your stomach, his voice was a quiet promise against your skin.

“I’ll take care of you, angel.”

He grabbed under your thighs, making your legs sit on his shoulders before he delved into the exquisite cuisine before him that was your wet pussy. “You taste amazing,” he murmured, slipping a finger inside your tight hole.

Your fingers tangled in his dark hair as his efforts sped up and your cheeks heated as you heard the faint sound of your pussy wet and squelching. You prayed none of the other players could hear.

“T-that feels so good,” you moaned, softly.

Young-il moaned into your pussy as his tongue flicked your clit, the vibrations making you squirm under his touch. He ferociously sucked and flicked your clit with his tongue before slipping in another finger making you feel full and writhe in the feeling of your g spot being constantly toyed with. You clenched tightly around his fingers, slapping a hand over your mouth to contain your moans.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he groaned, staring up at you.

You complied with his request, your hands grasping his dark hair he had as he held you down and continued eating your pussy through your high. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your mind became foggy and all you could think about was how good he made you feel.

After you caught your breath, he kissed you from your pussy, to your stomach, up your chest, sucking on your breasts then your cheeks, your lips then to your forehead, muttering praises in between. “So beautiful, angel. Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

He pulled his bottoms down slowly, his hard cock springing free and slapping against his abdomen and you bit your lip seeing the large package he carried.

“Oh, wow,” you gasped, softly, staring at how hard, long and thick he was. If his fingers could barely fit, how would that? It looked like he would tear you apart.

“It’s okay baby, don’t be intimidated,” his deep voice said, “I promise I’ll take care of you.”

He pumped his cock a few times, spreading the pre cum on his glistening head before hovering above you, his eyes on yours as he used it to rub all over your entrance. You moaned his name softly as he teased you, your body shuddering as he began slapping the tip on your clit.

“I’m about to start, it might be a bit uncomfortable at first. If it hurts, say the word and I’ll stop,” he muttered, quietly.

You nodded slowly and took his time inside you, eyes locked with yours, watching every reaction, every flicker of feeling that crossed your face. “You’re perfect, made just for me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with sincerity. His kisses trailed along your neck and shoulders each one drawing soft, involuntary moans from you.

As he went inside you, inch by inch, your nails dug into his back, his big cock stretching you by the second. You couldn’t even speak, feeling the wind knocked out of you as he was half way in, pushing past the barrier inside your pussy.

“Are you okay, angel?” he asked, ceasing movement inside you.

You nodded frantically, jaw agape.

He reached between your bodies, rubbing slow circles on your clit as he began thrusting slowly. He hissed in pleasure as your tight pussy gripped his dick, each time he went in and the back out, he was soaked in your juices.

“So wet for me. Absolutely perfect,” he groaned.

He gave you time to adjust, to feel every moment as his hold on you tightened and when you whispered, barely louder than a breath, asking him to “go deeper”, his control wavered, and a new depth of intensity overtook him. His grip on you tightened as his strokes deepened, and his eyes darkened with a desire that matched your own.

You bit your lip, containing your moans as you felt him practically in your guts and he was only half way in. Soft praises slipped from him in between breaths, the words laced with emotion as he murmured, “You feel incredible, I don’t want this to end.” You didn’t want it to end either. Each whispered word made you feel seen, safe, protected, and deeply wanted, it was exactly why you chose him.

He stared into your eyes as he hovered above you, his voice a soothing murmur against your neck as he urged, “Cum for me angel, don’t worry, I’ve got you.” As your orgasm hit you like a truck, you felt the wave of warmth and release, the feeling having you in the clouds as though you were high on ecstasy, his name slipping from your lips in soft, whispers. Your entire body convulsed and his strokes slowed as he whispered gentle praises, his touch filled with tenderness.

As he watched you come down from cloud nine, his gaze softened. “You took me so well, angel. I’m so proud of you.” Even though he could see the tiredness in your eyes, the spark in his hadn’t dimmed. With a gentle shift, he turned you onto your stomach, drawing your ass up to him. His hand found yours, fingers lacing together, as he moved again, pulling you back on his cock, each slow thrust reassuring you that he wasn’t done cherishing you yet.

Holding you close, he thrusted slowly at first, ensuring you felt every throb of his cock and every gentle movement of his cock dragging along your walls.

“You’re perfect, my beautiful girl,” he murmured. When you let out a soft gasp, he grinned, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. “You look so sexy with your ass in the air,” he said, his voice low. “Completely mine.”

You felt him lean closer, his lips beside your ear as he whispered, “I need you to cum on my cock again.” His hand drifted to your waist, holding you steady as you lost yourself in the pleasure.

“I—I don’t know if I can,” you said, overstimulation taking precedence.

He tilted chin to the side so you could look back at him, “You can do it, angel. Be a good girl for me.” His words were all the encouragement you needed, and as you gave in, squirting on his cock, his own quiet moans echoed with yours.

You clenched tightly around his cock lodged inside your pussy and it triggered his own intense orgasm. He bit down gently on your shoulder, thrusting slowly as ropes of his hot load filled you to the brim. “That’s it, take my cum. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m yours, Young-il,” you moaned softly, your body shaking from the intensity of it all.

Your heartbeat, once wild and frantic, had settled into something calmer. You lay there, still catching your breath, and Young-il hadn’t moved, not away from you, at least as he emptied his cum inside you.

Slowly, he pulled out, his hands gentle as they smoothed over your body, reminding you that you were safe with him. You winced slightly at the sudden emptiness, and his eyes flickered with concern.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, concerned.

You shook your head, a small smile on your lips. “No,” you whispered. “It was perfect.”

His expression softened, relief washing over his face. He reached for his shirt, and used it to clean you up carefully.

“You did so well,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your knee, then your hip, then your abdomen. “Took me so perfectly. You’re beautiful.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, and you bit your lip, watching him as he continued to worship you in the quietest, sweetest ways.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed another kiss to your collarbone.

He stilled at that, lifting his head so you could see the way his gaze softened. “No need to thank me,” he said, his thumb brushing your cheek. “You’re mine.” A pause, filled with nothing but warmth. “And you deserve to be cherished.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Before you could respond, he pulled you into him, wrapping you in his arms, tucking you against his. His lips pressed against your temple, then your forehead, then your nose. Sweet, lingering kisses.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he promised. “No matter what.”

You sighed, melting into him, feeling safer than you had in weeks. His fingers traced along your spine in slow, soothing patterns, his presence lulling you into something close to peace.

“You’re everything,” he whispered, pressing one last kiss to your lips before resting his chin atop your head. “And I won’t let anything happen to you.”

And with his arms around you, holding you like you were something precious, something worth protecting, you believed him.

[cceana]

Arcane Highschool!AU 2

characters - vi, caitlyn, jinx, sevika, ekko, jayce and viktor content - 6.1k words, part 1 here, established relationships except for vi's, Star athlete!vi x band!reader, Childhoodbestfriend!caitlyn, New kid!jinx x Class president!reader, Troublemaker!sevika x Tutor!reader, Artist!ekko x Muse!reader, Bestfriend!jayce, and Enemies to lovers!viktor

A/N - lmaoo.. sorry yall for not posting for like a really long time ;-; studied my azz off last week which was def worth it cuz i did so feaking well on that exam hehe. this was lowk rushed bcuz i rlly wanted to post. hope yall enjoy queens (> 3 <)

— Star Athlete!vi and Band!reader

The weeks following that unexpected late-night moment between you two felt different—charged with something new, something unspoken but lingering in the air. It wasn’t just the occasional brush of hands when walking side by side, or the way she’d glance at you across the cafeteria before looking away just a little too fast. It was the warmth in her voice when she teased you, the way she stuck around after practice just to sit beside you while you tuned your instrument.

She never said why she stayed. You never asked.

But you both knew.

It started with one call—past midnight, your phone buzzing against your nightstand.

“I can’t sleep,” she said when you answered, her voice rough with exhaustion.

You could hear the faint sound of cars passing outside, the rustle of her shifting under the covers.

“You’re calling me because you can’t sleep?” you murmured, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded at the thought of her thinking about you this late.

“Yeah,” she admitted. A pause. “Your voice is kinda nice.”

Heat rushed to your face. “Oh.”

“Don’t get a big head about it.”

You smiled, rolling onto your side.

From that night on, the calls became routine. Sometimes she ranted about her coach pushing her too hard. Sometimes you talked about your music, your fingers unconsciously tracing the melodies you’d played that day. Other times, you simply listened to each other breathe, neither willing to hang up first.

one day, she told you about a celebration party her teammates where hosting

She invited you.

“It won’t be the worst thing ever,” she had said, arms crossed as she leaned against your locker. “Just show up for a little bit.”

You’d raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you want me at parties?”

Her lips had twitched, almost like she was fighting back a smirk. “Since I realized you never leave that damn band room. It’s tragic, really.”

So here you were, awkwardly lingering near the kitchen, nursing a half-empty cup of soda while bodies moved and music pulsed around you.

And she? She was in the center of it all—laughing, drinking, surrounded by teammates who treated her like some kind of legend. She belonged here, in the chaos and the noise.

You? Not so much.

You should have left an hour ago, but something held you in place. Maybe it was the way she kept glancing at you between conversations, like she was making sure you were still there. Or maybe it was the warmth in her eyes whenever your gazes met.

Either way, you weren’t leaving just yet.

You had just decided to step outside for some air when you felt a strong hand wrap around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You turned, blinking up at her. She was closer than expected, her usual cocky smirk in place—but there was something else in her expression, something tense.

“Just getting some air,” you replied. “It’s suffocating in here.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Come on.”

Before you could respond, she was leading you out the back door, weaving through the crowd with ease. The cool night air hit you instantly, a sharp contrast to the heat of the party.

You leaned against the railing of the back porch, inhaling deeply. “Finally.”

She chuckled beside you, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Didn’t think you’d actually come tonight.”

You shot her a look. “You asked me to.”

She was quiet for a moment, staring out into the night. Then, in a voice softer than you’d ever heard from her, she said, “Yeah. I did.”

Something about the way she said it sent your heartbeat into a sprint.

You shifted, watching her carefully. “Why?”

She exhaled slowly, running a hand through her hair. “Because I wanted you here.”

Your breath caught.

She turned to face you fully now, her expression serious—no teasing smirk, no sarcastic remark to deflect. Just raw honesty.

“I know I’m not the easiest person to be around,” she started, voice steady but laced with something vulnerable. “I’m stubborn, I’m hot-headed, and I probably piss you off at least twice a day.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “At least.”

Her lips quirked up slightly before she continued. “But you… you’re different. You challenge me. You don’t put up with my crap, and somehow, you still—” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I don’t know why, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure she could hear it.

“I keep catching myself looking for you in a crowd,” she admitted, shifting her weight like she was forcing herself to stay still. “I wait outside your rehearsals, even when I could’ve left. I call you at night because your voice is the only thing that makes me feel like the world isn’t spinning too fast.”

She took a shaky breath.

“I like you.”

The words hung between you, thick with weight, with meaning.

“I don’t just like you, actually,” she corrected, her voice barely above a whisper now. “I—I think I’m falling for you.”

You stared at her, stunned, unable to form words.

Her fingers flexed at her sides, like she was bracing for rejection. “If that’s weird, or if you don’t feel the same, just—”

You stepped forward before she could finish, reaching for her hand.

She froze as your fingers slid between hers, as you squeezed lightly.

“You idiot,” you murmured, your chest aching with something overwhelming. “I’ve been falling for you this whole time.”

Her eyes widened slightly, like she hadn’t fully considered that possibility.

Then, after a beat, she huffed out a laugh. “God, we’re dumb.”

You grinned. “Yeah. A little bit.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, she looked nervous. “Can I—?”

You didn’t let her finish. Instead, you pulled her down into a kiss.

It wasn’t perfect—she was clumsy, caught off guard, but warm and sure the moment she realized what was happening. One of her hands came up to cup your face, rough and calloused but impossibly gentle.

When you finally pulled away, she was breathless, eyes flickering between yours.

“So,” she murmured, voice lower now. “Does this mean I can start calling you my girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you like it.”

You sighed dramatically, pretending to think. “Unfortunately.”

She grinned, lacing your fingers together. “Good.”

And as she pulled you back inside—back into the noise and the chaos of the party—it didn’t feel overwhelming anymore.

Not when she was right beside you.

Not when she was yours.

— Childhood Bestfriend!caitlyn

The days that followed felt like something out of a dream. The kind of dream you never wanted to wake up from.

She had been true to her word—she didn’t want to let you go again. Every morning, you’d wake up to a good morning text, and by the afternoon, she’d have already made plans for the two of you, whether it was a quiet café visit, a stroll through the city, or simply lounging in her estate’s massive library, reminiscing about the past between pages of old books.

She had slipped back into your life as if she had never left it.

And yet, there was something new about this—something deeper, sweeter

Like the way she’d always find an excuse to touch you, whether it was resting her head on your shoulder when she was tired, bumping her knee against yours under the table, or absentmindedly playing with your fingers when you sat next to each other.

Or the way she would wait for you. Even when she was drowning in responsibilities, she would insist on having lunch together, texting you just to tell you something random about her day.

Or the way she’d steal your snacks.

Without fail, if you had food, she would somehow find a way to take at least a bite. “Sharing is caring,” she’d say, plucking a fry from your plate before you could react. And if you tried to call her out on it? She’d just smirk, pop whatever she took into her mouth, and say, “You love me, so it doesn’t count as stealing.”

(And you couldn’t even argue. Because she was right.)

Then there were the nights.

Those were your favorite.

She was always busiest during the day, but at night? That was when she really let herself be soft with you.

Like when you’d both curl up on the couch, watching movies that neither of you paid attention to because she was too busy tracing lazy patterns against your arm, or playing with your fingers, or resting her head in your lap with the most peaceful look on her face.

Or the nights when she’d show up at your door unannounced, eyes heavy with exhaustion but still full of warmth as she mumbled, “Just needed to see you.”

You’d let her in without question, and she’d collapse onto your bed with a tired sigh, reaching for you without hesitation. “Come here,” she’d murmur, voice softer than usual, more vulnerable. And when you settled next to her, she’d just hold you, burying her face against your neck, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping her steady.

Or—your personal favorite—the way she looked at you.

Soft. Fond. Like you were the most precious thing she had ever laid eyes on.

One evening, as you sat curled up on the couch in her study, she nudged you with her foot. “Hey.”

You looked up from your book. “Hmm?”

She grinned. “Let’s make cupcakes.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I want cupcakes,” she repeated matter-of-factly, already standing up and stretching. “And I want to make them with you.”

You laughed, setting your book aside. “Since when do you bake?”

“I don’t,” she admitted, offering a hand to pull you up. “But I’m a fast learner. Come on.”

You sighed but let her drag you to the kitchen. What followed was absolute chaos.

Flour on the counter, sugar accidentally spilled on the floor, a mess of ingredients neither of you fully measured properly. She kept getting distracted, flicking flour at you, grinning mischievously every time you yelped in protest.

At some point, she wrapped her arms around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder as you mixed the batter. “I think we make a good team.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s because I’m doing all the work.”

She hummed, tightening her hold on you slightly. “And you do it so well.”

Your cheeks burned. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

You sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

She laughed, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before pulling away. “Okay, okay, let’s get these in the oven before I distract you too much.”

Too late, you thought, but you didn’t say it aloud.

Instead, you watched as she carefully placed the tray in the oven, a proud gleam in her eyes despite the fact that neither of you had any idea if the cookies would even taste good.

It didn’t really matter.

Because moments like this—messy, chaotic, ridiculous moments with her—were worth more than any perfect, scripted day.

And when the cupcakes came out horribly burnt, she just laughed, tossed one to you, and said, “Guess we’ll have to try again tomorrow.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

— New kid!jinx and Class president!reader

Loving her was like standing in the eye of a storm—unpredictable, consuming, and just a little dangerous.

But you never wanted to be anywhere else.

She was everything you weren’t. But in the same way that she crashed into your life like a hurricane, she had also settled into it, leaving pieces of herself in all the places she had touched.

And now, she was everywhere.

You didn’t even know when it happened, but somewhere between her dragging you into trouble and worming her way into your perfectly structured life, she had become a permanent fixture.

No, more than that.

She had become yours.

Your mornings were different now.

Instead of waking up to your alarm and immediately drowning in responsibilities, you woke up to her texts.

chaos incarnate: WAKE UP chaos incarnate: pres, you better not be ignoring me chaos incarnate: hello?? chaos incarnate: fine. i’m calling you.

And then, not even a second later, your phone would start ringing.

You groaned, answering it without opening your eyes. “You’re the worst.”

“Good morning to you too, babe.”

You sighed, rolling over. “It’s four a.m.”

“Yeah, well, I missed you.”

Your heart stuttered, heat rising to your cheeks.

You hated how easily she did that.

“…We saw each other yesterday.”

“And? That was a whole eight hours ago.”

You groaned again, but this time, you couldn’t fight the smile spreading across your lips.

The entire school knew about you two.

Not because you told anyone, but because she made it impossible not to know.

She’d sling an arm over your shoulder in the halls, leaning in obnoxiously close just to see you flustered.

She’d steal your lunch, even if she had her own, just to make you roll your eyes and huff at her—because, according to her, you looked cute when you were annoyed.

She’d sit in on student council meetings—uninvited—kicking her feet up on the table like she belonged there, just to watch you glare at her.

And if anyone so much as looked at you for too long?

She’d pull you closer, smirking as she draped herself over you and drawled, “Mine.”

You pretended to be exasperated by it all.

You weren’t.

One second, she was smirking at you from across the room, her gaze sharp, teasing, full of something wild you could never quite pin down. The next, she was leaning against your desk, spinning a pen between her fingers as she sighed dramatically about how boring the student council meetings were, just to get a reaction out of you.

And sometimes—when no one else was around—she’d be quiet. Soft. Like a storm that had momentarily calmed, if only for you.

It was confusing. It was frustrating.

But it was also thrilling.

You never knew what she’d do next, but somehow, you always ended up right there with her.

“We’re skipping.”

You blinked up at her from your pile of papers. “What?”

She grinned, already grabbing your wrist, tugging you out of your chair. “I said, we’re skipping. Come on.”

You pulled back instinctively. “I can’t. I have to finish—”

“Boring,” she cut in, rolling her eyes. “You work too much. If you spend one more hour staring at those papers, you’ll turn into one.”

You crossed your arms. “And you get into trouble too much.”

She smirked. “Yeah? And yet, here you are, still standing next to me.”

You sighed, but the fight was already slipping out of you. With her, it always did.

She took advantage of your hesitation, intertwining her fingers with yours, and your heart definitely didn’t just stutter in your chest.

“Come on,” she murmured, giving your hand a squeeze. “Just for a little while?”

And just like that, you were done for.

The two of you ended up on the rooftop, the one place where no one ever checked.

She sat on the ledge, legs swinging slightly, looking up at the sky like she had never seen it before.

For a moment, she was quiet. Contemplative.

Then, without looking at you, she spoke.

“You know, you’re the only person who’s ever stuck around.”

The words were soft, but something about them hit harder than anything she had ever said before.

You swallowed, watching her carefully. “You don’t make it easy.”

She laughed, a little breathless. “No. I don’t.”

Silence settled between you, comfortable in a way you never expected.

Then, before you could think too much about it, you reached out, gently brushing your fingers against hers where they rested on the ledge.

She went completely still.

You hesitated, pulling back slightly, but she caught your hand before you could.

Her grip was tight—like she was afraid you’d disappear if she let go.

“You drive me crazy,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re stubborn, and you worry too much, and you never break the rules.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Thanks?”

She huffed, exasperated, before turning to face you fully.

And then—before you could react—she leaned in, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to your cheek.

Your brain short-circuited.

She pulled back, smirking at your stunned expression, but there was something warm in her eyes, something real.

“You’re mine now,” she declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You opened your mouth—probably to protest, maybe to demand an explanation—but she just squeezed your hand again, tilting her head at you.

“…Unless you don’t want to be.”

You swallowed, heartbeat hammering in your chest.

And then, slowly, you laced your fingers through hers properly, squeezing back.

“…I think I do.”

Her smirk softened into something almost gentle.

“Good,” she murmured.

— Troublemaker!sevika and Tutor!reader

You weren’t sure when this became normal.

When tutoring sessions turned into something more—into lingering glances across textbooks, into stolen moments between classes, into a relationship that neither of you ever really talked about, but both of you knew was real.

It had started with her grumbling about the stupid school system, about how she didn’t need to study when she had “better things to do.” But now? Now, she was here—on time, every time, sitting across from you with a scowl like she hadn’t just walked across campus grinning at you like an idiot when she thought no one was looking.

She had changed.

Or maybe she hadn’t, and you were just seeing her differently now.

Either way, she was yours.

And that was enough.

“You’re staring.”

You blinked, realizing that, yes, you were staring, and, yes, she was very much aware of it.

“I’m not,” you lied.

She smirked. “Yeah? Then why haven’t you flipped the page in five minutes?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it.

Damn it.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Didn’t take you for the distracted type, tutor.”

You sighed, closing the book. “Maybe if you actually studied, I wouldn’t have to get distracted.”

She scoffed, leaning back. “I do study.”

You gave her a look.

“Okay, fine,” she huffed. “I study when you make me.”

“Exactly.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

Instead, she tilted her head, watching you in that way that always made your stomach do something weird.

“Why do you even put up with me?” she asked.

The question caught you off guard.

Not because you didn’t have an answer, but because she sounded genuinely curious.

Like she didn’t understand why you were still here.

Like she didn’t realize how easy it was to love her.

You frowned. “Because I want to.”

She stared at you for a moment, something unreadable flickering in her expression.

Then, suddenly, she reached across the table, grabbing your hand.

It wasn’t gentle.

It never was with her.

But her grip was warm, steady, real.

“…Good,” she muttered, squeezing your fingers once before pulling away. “You’re stuck with me, anyway.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dating her meant learning to navigate her world.

The world of bruised knuckles and reckless grins, of sharp words and sharper instincts, of someone who had spent so long fighting that she didn’t know how to stop.

You didn’t mind.

She never hurt you—not really.

But sometimes, she’d show up to your study sessions with a fresh cut on her cheek, or a bandage wrapped around her hand, or a bruise blooming on her jaw, and every time, you’d sigh, pulling out your first aid kit without saying a word.

She hated it.

“You don’t have to—”

“I do.”

She huffed but didn’t pull away, letting you press a cotton pad to her cheek, wincing when the antiseptic stung.

“Idiot,” you muttered, brushing your thumb over her skin after you were done.

She smirked. “You love me.”

You didn’t argue.

Instead, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the uninjured side of her face.

She tensed for half a second before melting into it, her fingers curling around your wrist, holding you in place like she never wanted you to leave.

“…Yeah,” you murmured. “I do.”

There were other parts of her world, too.

Parts that had nothing to do with fights or scraped knuckles.

Like how she always walked you home, no matter how many times you told her she didn’t need to.

Or how she’d steal your pens just to hear you complain about it, only to return them later with a smug grin.

Or how she’d grumble about studying, but when you fell asleep next to her, she’d pull a blanket over you without saying a word.

Or how she’d stay, even when she didn’t have to.

She wasn’t the best with words.

But she didn’t need to be.

Not when she loved you like this.

“Hey,” she called one day, leaning against your locker.

You raised a brow. “What?”

She didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she shifted, suddenly looking a little… awkward.

Which was weird, because she was never awkward.

You frowned. “Are you—”

“I got you something,” she blurted out.

You blinked. “You what?”

She huffed, shoving something into your hands.

It was… a necklace. Simple, understated. Something you would actually wear.

You stared at it, then at her.

“…Why?”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Because I wanted to.”

You looked down at it again, running your fingers over the chain.

It was nice.

And it was from her.

Your heart did that weird thing again.

“…Put it on me?” you asked softly, handing it back.

She blinked, like she hadn’t expected that, before scoffing. “You really like making me do things, don’t you?”

You smiled. “Yes.”

She muttered something under her breath but moved behind you, fastening the clasp.

Her fingers brushed against your skin, and you shivered.

“…There,” she murmured.

You turned back to her, letting her see the way you were smiling. “Thank you.”

She shrugged, but her ears were red.

You grinned.

Then, impulsively, you reached up, cupping her face in your hands before pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

She froze.

“…You absolute menace,” she muttered after a second, her voice half-choked.

You laughed. “You love me.”

She groaned. “I hate you.”

But the way she grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together as she pulled you down the hall?

That told a very different story.

— Artist!ekko and Muse!reader

The world felt different when he painted you.

Maybe it was the way his eyes softened as they traced your features, the way his lips quirked up ever so slightly in that absentminded, faraway smile. Or maybe it was the way he became so completely immersed in the moment, like nothing else existed except you, him, and the quiet hum of creation between you.

You weren’t sure when it had started—when you had become his muse, when his hands had memorized the slopes and curves of your expression more intimately than you ever could. But at some point, it became normal to sit in his studio, to let him paint you while the sun spilled golden light across the room.

At some point, it became home.

"Stay still," he murmured, his voice soft but firm.

You huffed but obeyed, shifting just slightly to get comfortable. “You know, I’m starting to think you just tell me that so I don’t walk away.”

He smirked without looking up. “Would it work?”

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

He chuckled, dipping his brush into a fresh stroke of color. "Then I don’t see the problem."

You watched him work, watched the way his fingers moved with practiced precision, his brow furrowing in deep focus.

It was so like him—to get completely lost in his art, in the way he captured emotions in strokes of paint. You weren’t even sure he realized how much he gave away when he worked. The quiet admiration, the unwavering patience, the unspoken tenderness in the way he committed you to canvas.

The thought made warmth curl in your chest.

He loved you.

Even in the moments when he didn’t say it outright, you felt it.

“…You’re staring,” he noted after a moment, amusement dancing in his tone.

You smirked. "So?"

"So," he mused, dabbing a final stroke onto the canvas before finally looking at you, "stay still."

You scoffed but didn’t argue.

His gaze lingered, studying you like he was committing every detail to memory.

Then, suddenly, he set the brush down, wiping his hands on a cloth before standing up and making his way toward you.

Your brows furrowed. "Are we done?"

He hummed, stopping right in front of you. "Almost."

Before you could question him, he reached out, gently swiping his thumb across your cheek.

You blinked.

“…Did you just wipe paint on me?”

His lips twitched. "Maybe."

Your jaw dropped. "You menace—"

He laughed, grabbing your hands before you could retaliate. "It’s barely anything!"

"You smudged me!"

"You’ll live."

You gasped dramatically. “I can feel it on my face—”

"Would you like me to fix it?"

You squinted at him, suspicious. "How?"

He smiled. "Like this."

And then, before you could react, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, right where the paint had been.

You froze.

Your heart stumbled over itself, warmth blooming beneath your skin.

"...That doesn’t count as fixing it," you mumbled, embarrassed by how breathless you sounded.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his smile soft, fond.

"I disagree."

Loving him meant understanding the way he saw the world.

The way his hands itched to create, to turn fleeting emotions into something tangible.

The way he’d go silent for long stretches, caught up in his own thoughts, before suddenly dragging you into his latest project with that spark of inspiration in his eyes.

The way he loved you—not just with words, but in the way he painted you, over and over again, like he was trying to keep you forever.

And maybe, in his own way, he was.

One night, long after the city had gone quiet, you found yourself back in his studio, curled up on the couch while he worked.

You weren’t posing this time.

You were just there, watching as he sketched in his notebook, his focus unwavering even as the hours slipped by.

“…Do you ever get tired of painting me?” you asked suddenly.

He paused, looking up at you.

Then, without hesitation—"Never."

You stared at him. “You say that like it’s obvious.”

"It is obvious," he said simply, setting his notebook aside as he moved toward you.

You let him sit beside you, watching as he reached for your hand, tracing absentminded patterns along your fingers.

“…There are infinite things in the world to paint,” he murmured, his touch feather-light, reverent. “Landscapes, emotions, stories… But you?” He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles. "You are my favorite."

Your breath caught.

You weren’t used to this—to his quiet, devastating sincerity.

He didn’t always say how he felt outright. He spoke in colors, in soft touches, in lingering glances over paint-stained canvases.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

“…You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, feeling your face grow warm.

He smirked. “And you love me for it.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it.

Instead, you tugged him closer, resting your forehead against his.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You just existed—wrapped in warmth, in paint-stained fingertips and whispered affections between the silence.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

— Bestfriend!jayce

There were moments where you still couldn’t believe this was real.

That after years of laughter, inside jokes, stolen hoodies, and whispered dreams of the future, you had ended up here—curled up next to him, his arm lazily draped around you, as if this had been inevitable from the very start.

In a way, maybe it was.

Loving him never felt like a sudden thing, never like some grand revelation that struck you out of nowhere. It had crept in slowly, weaving itself between every late-night conversation, every lingering glance, every touch that lasted just a little longer than it needed to.

And now? Now it was second nature.

He was yours.

And you were his.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

You blinked. “What thing?”

He smirked without looking up from his book. “The thing where you stare at me like I put the stars in the sky.”

You scoffed, shoving him playfully. “Get over yourself.”

He chuckled, finally turning his attention toward you. “Not denying it, though.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you. “Maybe I was just zoning out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Or judging you.”

“Doubt it.”

You sighed, dramatic. “God, dating you is exhausting.”

“Right?” he teased. “Can’t believe you fell for me.”

“Yeah,” you muttered. “Can’t believe I did, either.”

His expression softened at that, his teasing smile melting into something fonder.

Then, suddenly, he reached out, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face before letting his fingers trail down, tracing the curve of your jaw.

“…Lucky me,” he murmured.

Your breath caught.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You just sat there, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, your heart stumbling over itself at the way he was looking at you.

Like you were something rare.

Like he had been waiting his whole life for you.

“…You’re such a sap,” you whispered.

His lips twitched. “Only for you.”

The thing about dating your best friend was that nothing really changed.

Not in the way you expected, at least.

There were still late-night fast food runs, still study sessions that turned into existential conversations, still a constant presence at your side whenever you needed him (and even when you didn’t).

But there were differences, too.

Like how he held your hand without hesitation now, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Or how he hugged you longer, pressing his face into your shoulder like he needed to be close to you.

Or how he kissed your forehead absentmindedly whenever you did something that made him proud, as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

Or how he whispered, "Love you," so casually, like he had always been saying it.

Like he always would.

“Okay, real talk,” he said one night, sprawled across your bed like he owned it.

You hummed, flipping a page in your book. “Mm?”

“If we weren’t dating, would you still have a crush on me?”

You blinked, giving him an unimpressed look. “What kind of question is that?”

“A valid one.”

You sighed, setting your book down. “We are dating.”

“But if we weren’t,�� he pressed, propping himself up on his elbows. “Would you still be into me?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What kind of answer are you looking for?”

“The truth.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out what he was really asking.

Then, with a smirk, you shrugged. “Dunno. You’re kinda annoying.”

He gasped. “Rude.”

“But,” you continued, reaching over to poke his cheek, “I’d probably be in love with you anyway.”

He grinned. “Knew it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Hopelessly in love.”

You groaned. “Why do I even like you?”

He laughed, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers together.

“…Because we were always meant to end up here.”

Your breath hitched.

The words were simple, said so casually, but they settled deep in your chest, spreading warmth through your entire being.

Because he was right.

Every moment, every choice, every little thing that led to this—it had always been leading you here.

To him.

To this.

To something more than forever.

— Enemies to lovers!viktor and reader

It still surprised you sometimes—how things had changed.

How the cold rivalry that once existed between you had melted into something warm, something constant, something that made your chest tighten in the best way whenever you so much as thought about it.

About him.

Once upon a time, you and him had been at odds with each other, a battle of sharp words and stubborn ideals. He was relentless, fiercely determined, a mind constantly working ten steps ahead. And you—well, you were the opposite. Passionate, chaotic, diving headfirst into the unknown with little concern for anything but discovery.

But now?

Now he was yours.

And God, you loved him.

“Stop working,” you whined, dramatically flopping onto his desk.

He barely spared you a glance, eyes still locked onto the notebook in front of him. “Can’t.”

“You always say that,” you huffed, watching as he furiously jotted down another equation, his pen moving like it had a will of its own.

“Because it’s always true,” he shot back, voice carrying that familiar unwavering certainty.

You rolled your eyes. “Five-minute break.”

“No.”

“Two minutes?”

“No.”

You sighed, tilting your head at him. “What could possibly be so important that you can’t take two minutes to—” You peered at his notes and blinked. “Wait. Is this…” You trailed off, recognizing the layout of a physics equation, the bold scrawl of hypotheses scattered between calculations.

He finally glanced at you, the sharp glint of his focus not dulled in the slightest. “I had a thought earlier and needed to get it down.”

You stared at him. “You had a thought so urgent that you couldn’t even pause for two seconds?”

“Yes.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “You’re crazy”

“And you’re distracting.”

“You love me, though.”

A flicker of something softened his expression. He didn’t answer immediately, just studied you with those impossibly sharp eyes, the ones that always seemed to be unraveling the mysteries of the universe—except, in that moment, they were solely on you.

“Yeah,” he murmured eventually, the intensity of it making your breath catch. “I do.”

It was rare, hearing it outright like that. He wasn’t one for grand proclamations, but when he did speak—when he let himself be honest—it always hit you like a tidal wave.

You swallowed, warmth pooling in your chest. “Then take a break.”

He sighed, exasperated but amused. Then, to your utter delight, he set his pen down.

“Two minutes,” he relented.

You grinned, holding out your arms. “Hug me.”

He stared. “…Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, like he was analyzing the request for its deeper meaning. Then, without another word, he leaned forward and pulled you against him.

You melted instantly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. His arms were strong, steady—the kind of embrace that felt unshakable, like he would hold the entire world together if it meant keeping you safe.

“…Better?” he murmured.

You nodded against him. “Much.”

His fingers lingered at your back, just the faintest trace of hesitation before he fully gave in, relaxing into the embrace.

And neither of you let go.

Dating him had been an adjustment.

He wasn’t the kind to wear his emotions on his sleeve. He was driven, always looking forward, always chasing after the next big thing. His brain never stopped, his heart never wavered, his ambition burning like an unstoppable fire.

Which meant he showed affection in his own way.

Like the way he never actually said I love you, but instead muttered things like, don’t forget to eat or stay inside, it’s cold.

Like the way he pretended to be annoyed when you interrupted his work, only to immediately pull you back when you tried to leave.

Like the way he sighed every time you teased him, only to let you lace your fingers with his under desks, his grip never faltering.

And the thing was?

You wouldn’t trade it for anything.

One evening, you were in the library together, him completely immersed in his research while you doodled aimlessly in your notebook.

The silence was comfortable, the kind that had become second nature between you.

Then, suddenly—

“…You make me reckless.”

You blinked. “Uh. Excuse me?”

He didn’t look up, his fingers tapping idly against the table. “You make me reckless,” he repeated, almost contemplative. “It’s irritating.”

You squinted at him. “Are you… saying you love me?”

He hummed. “Statistically, it would be hard to deny.”

Your heart stumbled over itself. “Oh my God.”

He finally looked up, arching a brow. “What?”

“You just confessed your love for me like it was a scientific fact.”

“…And?”

You let out a laugh, completely endeared. “You’re unbelievable.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t look annoyed. If anything, there was something fond in the way he regarded you, something soft in the way he reached out, tapping his fingers against your wrist.

“…You already knew,” he murmured.

It wasn’t a question.

Because of course you knew.

You had known for a long time now.

But hearing it—even in his own, methodical way—still sent warmth flooding through your entire being.

You smiled.

“Yeah,” you whispered, reaching for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “I did.”

And if he squeezed your hand just a little tighter?

Well.

You didn’t mention it.

[tpwk-formula1]

Lactation and water sports with lando please please please (they both do the water sports)

AN: I just had a full conversation with my Tumblr bestie on how I actually don't think I know how to write watersports so I give her all the credits to helping me figure out how to write this!

TW: MDNI 18+ watersports, lactation

WC: 940+

Y/N POV

It was Lando and I's first vacation just the two of us after giving birth to our son who was now a year old.

We would only be gone for a few days but non the less the both of us were excited to have some alone time.

"Drink," I say while tossing him the plastic water bottle with a smirk. I can see Lando catch the bottle with a surprised look on his face before a small smirk breaks out across his face.

I wave my bottle showing him I was doing the same before opening it and taking a big drink before turning back and finishing getting unready from the long travel day we had.

I can see Lando in the mirror reflection scrolling on his phone while drinking his water. Once he was finished with the first bottle he got up and grabbed two more passing me one of them in the process.

"I already need to go," I whine while trying to push the bottle back towards him which only makes Lando smirk softly.

"That's kinda the whole point," Lando says with a smirk making me whine but still take the full bottle into my hand and opening before taking another big drink. Once we had both finished both of the bottles I get up from my seat at the vanity and make my way towards Lando who was currently wiggling in his spot showing he that he was int he same position as me.

I quickly climbs into his lap making sure to sit directly onto his bladder making him groan and jump at the sudden pressure.

"Fuck, baby" Lando says while gripping my waist into his hands and moving me so I'm sitting on his already hard cock. Even with us both being fully dressed still it doesn't stop me from grinding down on his cock making the both of us whimper.

"Been too long," I whine and moan when Lando moves a hand over my tummy and pushing down on my bladder making my breath hitch as I try to hold my bladder in.

"Fuck, baby you're leaking," Lando grunts out with his eyes locked onto the loose shirt I had thrown on earlier. When I look down I notice some of my breast milk had leaked through my shirt. I feel my face grow red at the sight but when Lando brings his hand up to my senstive nipple giving it a small squeeze a small whimper leaves my mouth.

"Fuck, I love how sensitive they've become," Lando whispers while quickly pulling my top over my head leaving my top half completely bare for Lando's greedy hands.

As soon as Lando pinches one of my sensitive nipples I see some milk start to dribble out. Lando wastes no time leaning forward and licking the small bead up.

"So good," Lando mumbles before attaching his mouth to one of my nipples and sucking some of my milk into his mouth.

"Lando," I squeal trying to push his mouth away from my nipples but it only encourages him to suck more milk into his mouth.

"I've wanted to do that since you started producing," Lando admits sheepishly before bringing his mouth down to my other nipple giving it the same treatment as the previous one.

The more Lando pinches and pulls at my nipples the more my milk is starting to drip over my skin making me whine and grind harder down in Lando's lap.

With my bladder feeling the fullest is has in awhile I can't help the loud whimper that falls from my lips.

"Lando, I need to go," I cry out which only has Lando giving my nipple one last suck before detaching his lips and quickly helping the both of us finish undressing.

Once Lando has both of us naked he quickly pushes me back onto the bed before climbing between my legs.

"Lando, please," I beg not fully knowing what I'm asking for but Lando takes it as his chance to slowly start pushing his already hard cock into my soaked pussy.

"Fuck Lando," I cry when he bottoms out.

Having such a full bladder is making everything that much more intense for the both of us and I can tell Lando is not going to last very long.

"Fuck," Lando grunts as he starts thrusting his hips in and out of my pussy making me moan even louder.

"Lan, I'm close," I cry when I feel Lando hitting my G-spot with each thrust.

"Fuck, feel so good," Lando grunts while hit hips start to falter letting me know he was getting close.

"Lando I can't cum," I cry out when I feel the urge of my bladder to give way.

"Just cum for me, it's okay," Lando grunts while picking up his thrusts again this time fucking into my pussy even harder.

"FUck Lando!" I moan loudly when I finally allow my body to succumb to the pleasure.

As soon as I start cumming all over Lando's dick I can feel myself squirting making the waves of my orgasm that much more intense feeling my body relaxing into the pleasure.

"Fuck so hot," Lando grunts while pulling out and jerking her cock till he starts shooting ropes of cum all over my stomach.

"Fuck," Lando whimpers when the final rope of cum shoots from the tip of his still hard cock when a small dribble of his pee beeds out making Lando tense his muscles to stop himself.

"Fuck, so good," Lando moans while allowing his body to relax forward falling to relax on top of me.

------

The end! I hope you enjoyed

[aubvrns]

just on time, sweetheart

| wanda maximoff x reader

Synopsis - You were running late because you missed your alarm. Who knew that a simple mishap could be met with connections from the past?

Note - i’m happy so lemme hurt you a bit #sadist

You weren't the type of student to be irresponsible.

You just happened to miss the aggravating sound of your alarm. It was just one of those mornings where your blanket feels much softer than it was when you slept. You bolted through the university halls, your bag bouncing against your back as you struggled to catch your breath. Your alarm betrayed you, and now sprinting to your second period, a strict voice cuts the uncomfortable silence.

"You're late, Miss Y/L/N."

You cursed under your breath and turned around, facing the disapproving gaze of Professor Fury. You had no excuses, not really. No one would believe that your alarm clock had miraculously decided to rebel against you this morning.

"Guidance office," The professor ordered, tapping his pen against his clipboard.

You groaned inwardly. Just great, you thought.

You turned on your heels and dragged yourself towards the guidance office, mood already sour. The last thing you needed was another lecture about punctuality and responsibility. As you pushed the heavy door open, you barely glanced at the person seated inside—until your gaze locked onto a pair of all-too-familiar green eyes.

Wanda Maximoff.

Your breath hitched, like you forgot how to breath. You heart slammed against your ribs, and for a moment, you wondered if the universe was playing some kind of cruel joke on you. The girl who had once whispered forever into her skin.

The girl who had shattered you. The girl who was now sitting right across from you, looking just as stunned.

A beat of silence stretched between them—thick, heavy, suffocating.

Then, the Dean cleared his throat. "Miss Y/L/N, since you have time to be late, you have time to be useful. Our new transfer student, Miss Maximoff, needs a tour of the campus. You’ll be her guide for the day."

Your blood ran cold.

The Dean continued, oblivious to the storm brewing between you two. "You'll show her around, make sure she knows where everything is. Understood?"

You forced herself to nod. Words were a foreign concept right now, especially when Wanda’s gaze was still piercing into her, unblinking, unreadable.

The Dean dismissed himself, and before you could think of an excuse, you found yourself stepping out into the hallway with Wanda right beside you. The silence stretched, clinging like ghosts.

Finally, Wanda spoke. "You look different."

You let out a humorless chuckle. "To you, maybe."

Wanda flinched, just barely, but you caught it. And for the first time in years, you felt something close to satisfaction.

It was going to be a long day.

-

The tour was hell.

Every hallway, every classroom—they all held the weight of things left unsaid, of a past neither of them had completely buried. You led Wanda through the university, pointing out the library, the gym, the best place to get coffee. You kept your words clipped, distant, careful.

You didn’t want to remember. But memories had a funny way of creeping in, uninvited.

"Do you still drink too much coffee?" Wanda asked suddenly, her voice softer than before.

You clenched your jaw. "Some things never change."

A flicker of something crossed Wanda’s face— regret? Guilt? You weren’t sure, and you didn’t care to find out.

"You were always late in high school too," Wanda mused. "I used to wake you up."

You swallowed hard. "Well, you’re not here to do that anymore, are you?"

The redhead didn’t respond, but you felt her gaze linger. It was the same way she used to look at you—like she saw through the walls you tried to build. Like she still remembered.

You hated it. Because you remembered too.

The remembrance of Wanda’s laughter in the morning, the way she used to tug you closer under the covers, whispering nonsense just to make you smile. You remembered Wanda’s hands, warm and certain, tracing constellations on your skin. You remembered the way Wanda had said, “I love you,” like it was a promise.

A promise that she had broken.

You clenched your fists, blinking back the sting behind your eyes. You wouldn't give Wanda the satisfaction of knowing you still cared.

You didn't.

Not anymore.

-

The tour ended at the courtyard, beneath the massive oak tree where students gathered between classes. It was the kind of place that should’ve been peaceful. But with Wanda beside you, the air felt suffocating.

"You don’t have to act like this, you know," Wanda said finally, her voice quiet.

You exhaled sharply. "Like what?"

"Like I never meant anything to you."

You turned to face her, something sharp curling in your chest. "You broke up with me, Wanda. You fell for someone else. What exactly do you expect from me?"

Wanda flinched, and you hated that she still cared enough to notice.

"Vision wasn’t—" Wanda hesitated, then sighed. "I thought you never took us seriously.”

"You thought wrong."

The words came out colder than you intended, but you didn’t regret them. Wanda searched your face, your expression unreadable. "I’m sorry."

You almost laughed. "You don’t get to be sorry." And just like that, the dam inside her cracked just a little.

Because the truth was, you had stayed. You had waited, you had hoped. You had watched as Wanda chose someone else, as if everything meant nothing. And now, she was supposed to pretend like everything was fine? Like the past didn’t still dig its claws into your heart?

You wouldn’t give Wanda the satisfaction. So instead, you turned on her heels and walked away. You walked furiously, each step slowly detaching yourself from the past

“Y/N, please.”

You didn’t look back. You refused to let yourself be vulnerable again.

But you knew Wanda’s was on your back, lingering like a wound that had never truly healed. Like an echo of something that still, somehow, refused to fade.

-

The wind was colder than usual, sending a shiver down your spine as you hurried across campus. The weight of Wanda’s gaze still lingered on you like a phantom touch, unwelcome and yet impossible to ignore.

You had thought you were over this. Over her.

You had spent years convincing herself that the past was just that—the past. But the second you saw Wanda sitting in that office, looking at her like she wasn’t a shattered remnant of what they once were, something inside her cracked. Not Wanda looking at her like she regretted it. Like she missed her.

You shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. You weren’t going to do this. You weren’t going to let Wanda drag you back into a storm you barely survived the first time.

As you reached the hallway towards your locker, you heard your name.

"Y/N."

An all-too familiar voice called you. You clenched your jaw before turning, already knowing who you’d see.

Wanda stood a few feet away, arms crossed, shifting on her feet like she was hesitating. You arched a brow. "What do you want?"

Wanda hesitated, then sighed. "You’re mad."

You let out a hollow laugh. "Mad? No. That would mean I still care."

A flicker of something passed across Wanda’s face—hurt, maybe. "You never used to lie to me," Wanda murmured, almost like it was an afterthought.

You inhaled sharply. "That was before you made me question everything that came out of your mouth."

Silence stretched between them. The kind that wasn’t comfortable anymore.

"I didn’t want to do this here," Wanda muttered, running a hand through her hair. "But I don’t want to keep pretending either."

You scoffed. "That’s rich, coming from you." Wanda flinched, and for a moment, you almost felt guilty.

"You really think I didn’t love you?" Wanda asked, voice quieter now, like she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.

Your heart clenched, but you forced herself to stay distant. "I think that whatever we had wasn’t enough for you."

Wanda’s jaw tensed. "That’s not fair."

You took a step forward, and before you could stop herself, the words spilled out. "You left me, Wanda. You left us. And for what? Someone who didn’t even know you the way I did? Someone who didn’t—" She cut herself off, swallowing hard.

Wanda’s gaze softened. "Y/N…"

"Don’t," you sternly said.

Because if Wanda said your name like that again—like you still mattered—you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep standing.

"I never stopped loving you."

You clenched your fists. You didn’t believe it, because if you did, it would destroy you all over again.

-

For days, you did your best to avoid Wanda.

You took different routes to class, skipped places you knew Wanda might be, and buried herself in your studies. It should’ve been easy.

But then came the moments in between.

A glimpse of red hair across the courtyard. The sound of laughter that sounded too much like Wanda’s. The feeling of her eyes lingering on you when you weren’t looking. You hated how much space Wanda still took up in her mind.

Even now, as you sat in the back of the lecture hall, you could feel it. The ache of something unresolved. And then, as if the universe enjoyed watching you suffer, the professor spoke.

"You’ll be working in pairs for this project," he announced. "I’ll be assigning the partners."

You barely heard the names being called. You were too busy trying to focus on your breathing. There were at least twenty students in this class. There was no way you would get partnered with her.

"And lastly," the professor continued, flipping a page. "Y/L/N and Maximoff."

Your stomach dropped. The room blurred at the edges as you slowly turned your head, but Wanda was already looking at you.

And the worst part, she didn’t even look surprised.

"I can switch partners," you said as soon as class ended, already standing from your seat.

Wanda caught your hand, feeling her slightly caress your wrist, just like how she used to. "No, you won’t."

The touch burned. Not in the way it used to, soft and safe. But in a way that made you feel like she was drowning in everything she had tried to forget.

You pulled your arm back. "This isn’t going to work."

Wanda tilted her head. "Why? Because you still hate me?"

You exhaled sharply. "Because I don’t trust you."

For a second, something flickered in Wanda’s eyes— hurt, maybe. But then she straightened. "We don’t have to like each other to work together."

You clenched her fists. "Fine. But don’t expect anything more from me."

A small, bitter smile tugged at Wanda’s lips. "I never do."

You turned away before Wanda could see the way that sentence wrecked you. Because once upon a time, you had given Wanda everything. Every piece of yourself.

And in the end, it still hadn’t been enough.

-

You had been sitting beneath the old oak tree, headphones in, pretending to study. But the second Wanda sat down beside you, everything inside you tensed. Your eyes didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge her. Maybe if you ignored Wanda long enough, she would just disappear from your life.

"Are you going to avoid me forever?" Wanda’s voice was quiet, but there was a sharpness underneath it.

You sighed, closing your book. "I don’t see why it matters to you."

"Of course it matters." Wanda hesitated, then softer, "You still matter."

You clenched her jaw. "Don’t," you warned, turning to face Wanda for the first time in days. "Don’t say things you don’t mean."

Wanda exhaled, looking down at her hands. "That’s the problem, Y/N. I meant everything."

You scoffed, bitter. "Right. You meant it when you said you loved me. And then you meant it when you chose someone else."

Wanda flinched but didn’t look away. "You think that’s what happened?"

You stared at her, feeling something in your chest twist painfully. "Isn’t it?" A silence stretched between them—thick, heavy, suffocating.

And then, Wanda spoke.

"I never fell out of love with you." The words were barely above a whisper, but they hit you like a thunderclap.

Your breath caught, your heart pounding as you forced herself to stay still. "Then why?" you asked, your voice almost breaking. "Why did you leave me for him?"

Wanda swallowed hard, looking at you like she wanted to reach out, but didn’t. "Because I thought I had to."

She let out a shaky breath. "You never saw it, but my family was struggling. My father lost his job, my mother was barely holding things together, and I was scared. Vision—he had connections, opportunities. My mother thought if I was with him, I’d have a better future. A stable life. And I was stupid enough to believe that maybe, if I forced myself to feel something for him, I wouldn’t have to lose everything else." Wanda looked away, blinking quickly.

"But I never loved him, Y/N. Not the way I loved you."

You felt like the ground had been pulled out from beneath you. "You broke my heart," she whispered, voice unsteady. "And you didn’t even tell me why."

"I know," Wanda said, voice thick with regret. "And I’m sorry. I’ve been sorry every single day since I walked away."

You inhaled sharply, gripping the edges of your book as if it could keep you steady. You wanted to be angry, to hold on to the bitterness you had nurtured for so long. But now, the truth sat between them, raw and undeniable, unraveling every wall she had built.

And maybe that was the worst part of all.

Because despite everything, despite the pain, despite the years of silence and regret— you still loved her. And you didn’t know if you could stop.

"I need you to know something," Wanda said, voice steady despite the hesitation in her eyes.

"I didn’t come here expecting you to forgive me. I didn’t transfer here hoping we’d just go back to how we were. I know I hurt you, Y/N. And if you never want to see me again after this, I’ll understand. But I can’t leave things the way they are. Not again."

You swallowed, heart in your throat. "Wanda—"

"I love you," Wanda said, voice breaking just slightly. "I never stopped."

You felt something inside her shatter. The walls you had spent so long building crumbled in an instant, leaving nothing but the undeniable truth of what had always been. You could feel the weight of your own feelings pressing against your ribs, too big to contain.

And then, before you could stop herself, you reached for Wanda.

You felt Wanda freeze, breath hitching as your fingers brushed against her wrist—tentative, testing. And then, slowly, Wanda exhaled, tilting her head just slightly, waiting.

One second, there was space between you two, and the next, Wanda was pulling you closer, warm foreheads nearly touching. You could feel Wanda’s breath against your lips, warm and familiar, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Tell me to stop," Wanda whispered, voice trembling. "And I will."

You swallowed hard, hands tightening against Wanda’s jacket. "I don’t want you to." And that was all it took.

Wanda closed the distance, and the second your lips met. You felt the weight of every year, every unspoken word, every heartbreak melt into the kiss. It was desperate and soft and everything in between, full of the years you had lost and the love that had never really left.

When you finally pulled away, Wanda rested her forehead against yours, breathing hard. "I don’t deserve this," she murmured.

You sighed, closing your eyes. "Maybe not. But I think we deserve a second chance."

Wanda let out a soft, shaky laugh, pressing another gentle kiss to your soft lips. "Then let’s not waste it this time."

And just like that, the ghosts of what once was this puddle of hurt finally began to fade.

You weren’t sixteen anymore, lying under the stars and making promises you couldn’t keep.

But maybe this time, you would.

Maybe this time, forever wouldn’t be a lie.

[scoupsakakitty]

Hoshi x 14th member please like a very slowburn and members are tired of seeing hoshi like that until they make hoshi confess to her, and he likes her like from the very start in their trainee days, but the members found out he likes her that much after years so yeah, maybe she is the same age as him, he's just a few months older so most of all the members calls her noona noona hehehe

Timing is Everything | idol!hoshi x 14thMember | fluff

Hoshi had always liked her.

Not in the casual, fleeting way people develop crushes during their trainee days no, this was different. It was the kind of quiet affection that settled deep in his chest, growing roots with every passing year. It started with the way she tied her hair in messy buns during late-night practices, the determination in her eyes when the trainers pushed them too hard, and the way she laughed at his dumb jokes even when she was exhausted.

But he never said anything.

Years passed. They debuted. They became family. The feelings stayed.

And the members noticed.

It wasn’t the obvious things Hoshi was careful about that. No lingering stares or unnecessary compliments. But it was the small things: how he always saved her favorite snacks without thinking, how his mood shifted whenever she was upset, how his jokes were always just a little funnier when she laughed.

One day, after another painfully obvious moment where Hoshi practically short-circuited because she called him cute in passing.

“Hyung,” Seungkwan groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “I can’t do this anymore. Just tell her you like her.”

Hoshi’s head shot up, eyes wide. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, please,” Mingyu chimed in, rolling his eyes. “We’ve known since what? 2016? Honestly, it’s impressive how long you’ve managed to suffer in silence.”

“I’m not suffering.” Hoshi’s voice was high-pitched. Betrayed.

Jeonghan smirked from his spot near the window.

The room burst into laughter, but Hoshi’s face was burning.

“I don’t like her like that,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

Seungcheol snorted. “Yeah, sure. And Minghao doesn’t like painting.”

Before Hoshi could come up with a weak defense, the door creaked open. Y/N walked in, wiping sweat from her forehead, a water bottle in hand.

The room instantly shifted. The teasing died down, but the mischievous glint in Dino’s eyes said it all.

“Noona,” Dino called out casually, stretching his arms over his head. “Serious question.”

She glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “What now, Chan?”

“If you had to date one of us hypothetically, of course who do you think would be the best boyfriend?”

The room erupted in laughter again. Hoshi’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

“Yah, what kind of question is that?” Seungkwan groaned, but the grin on his face showed he was loving every second of it.

She smirked, clearly amused, and pretended to think about it as she walked further into the room. “Hmm… tough one.”

Hoshi stared at the floor, trying to act indifferent, but his ears were turning red.

“Well,” she began, her eyes scanning the room, “Seungcheol would be too bossy. Jeonghan’s too sneaky I’d never know if he’s being serious. Mingyu’s way too clumsy. Vernon? I’d have to compete with his music.”

Everyone laughed, and even Hoshi managed a weak smile, though his chest felt tight.

Then, for just a brief second, her eyes met his.

“I’d probably pick someone who makes me laugh,” she said casually looking at Hoshi. “Someone kind… someone reliable.”

Hoshi swallowed hard. His heart was racing.

“But I’m not naming names,” she added playfully, tossing her towel over her shoulder and heading to grab her bag.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Seungkwan leaned in, whispering through gritted teeth, “She was totally talking about you.”

Mingyu nodded. “If you don’t confess soon, I might do it for you.”

Hoshi didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. His heart was still somewhere on the practice room floor.————————————————————————————-The days after that conversation felt unbearable.

Hoshi couldn’t stop thinking about it her words, the way her gaze lingered just a little too long, the teasing smirks from the members every time she walked into a room. It was like they were all in on some secret that he wasn’t brave enough to face.

But nothing compared to her.

The way she laughed during late-night rehearsals. The casual way she’d nudge his shoulder when he made a joke. The way his heart raced every time their hands brushed, even if it was just by accident.

It was getting harder to pretend.————————————————————————————-A Week Later

She was sitting on the floor, stretching, while Hoshi absentmindedly fiddled with his water bottle, debating with himself.

Just say it. What’s the worst that could happen?

But the words stayed trapped in his throat.

“You’ve been acting weird lately,” she suddenly said, breaking the silence.

Hoshi’s heart nearly stopped.

“Weird? Me? No, I’m totally normal,” he stammered, laughing nervously.

She gave him a look one of those looks that saw right through him. “Come on, you’ve been zoning out, avoiding eye contact, and you’re quieter than usual. What’s up?”

Hoshi opened his mouth, then closed it again. His chest felt tight. He could hear Seungkwan’s voice in his head: ‘She obviously likes you too. Just confess.’

But fear held him back. What if it ruined everything?

“I’m just… tired,” he muttered, looking away.

She didn’t press further, but the tension hung in the air, thick and heavy.————————————————————————————-The Next Day

“Okay, that’s it,” Seungcheol declared, slamming his palm on the table during lunch. “We’re staging an intervention.”

Hoshi blinked. “What?”

Jeonghan leaned in with a wicked grin. “You’re confessing today. No more excuses.”

Mingyu nodded, his mouth full of rice. “Yep. We’re tired of watching you suffer.”

“I’m not suffering—”

“Oh, please,” Seungkwan cut in. “You looked like you were about to faint yesterday when she asked if you were okay.”

Before Hoshi could protest, the door swung open, and Y/N walked in.

Perfect timing.

Seungcheol didn’t miss a beat. “Hey, Y/N. Hoshi has something to tell you.”

Hoshi’s eyes widened in horror. “Hyung!”

She paused, looking between them, clearly confused. “Uh… what is it?”

The room went silent. All eyes on Hoshi.

His heart was racing. His hands were clammy. But then she smiled just a small, curious smile and something in him snapped.

Hoshi stood up so quickly he nearly knocked over his chair. “I—I like you!” he blurted out, voice louder than intended.

Silence.

The words echoed in the room.

Her eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised. Hoshi felt like he was going to pass out.

“I’ve liked you for a long time,” he added, his voice softer now, but more steady. “Since our trainee days. I just… I was scared to tell you because I didn’t want to ruin what we have. But I can’t keep pretending anymore.”

The room was dead silent for a beat then Seungkwan dramatically covered his face like he was watching a drama unfold.

Y/N didn’t say anything at first. She just stared at him, and Hoshi felt like the ground might swallow him whole.

But then she smiled. A real, soft smile.

“I was wondering when you’d finally say it,” she said quietly, her eyes warm.

Hoshi blinked. “Wait… what?”

She stepped closer, her smile widening. “I like you too, idiot.”

The room exploded with noise cheering, laughter, Seungcheol shaking Hoshi by the shoulders like a proud dad.

Hoshi just stood there, stunned, until Y/N gently reached for his hand. That’s when it hit him.

She likes him back.

All those years of quiet longing, small glances, unsaid words it was all worth it.

And the members?

They claimed victory like it was their confession.————————————————————————————-It’s the same night and Y/N couldn’t sleep.

Her heart had been racing since Hoshi’s confession. The words kept replaying in her mind like a song she couldn’t turn off.

“I’ve liked you for a long time.”

She had waited for so long to hear those words. But now that she had, it felt like something inside her had snapped a tension she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. She needed more than words. She needed him.

Without overthinking, she quietly slipped out of her room, her footsteps soft against the wooden floor. The hallway was dim, shadows dancing along the walls. She paused briefly in front of Hoshi’s door, her heart pounding like a drum.

Just do it.

She knocked softly, barely giving herself time to reconsider.

The door creaked open, revealing Hoshi in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair slightly messy from sleep. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw her standing there.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and slightly raspy from sleep.

But she didn’t answer.

Without a word, she stepped into his room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Hoshi barely had time to process before she crossed the space between them in quick, determined steps. She reached up, cupping his face with both hands, and pulled him down into a kiss.

It wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t shy. It was everything she’d been holding back weeks, months, years of quiet longing poured into a single, desperate moment.

At first, Hoshi froze, his eyes wide with shock. But then something in him melted.

His hands found her hips instinctively, pulling her closer, erasing the space between them. His lips moved with hers, gentle at first, then deeper, more certain. Like he was making up for all the time they’d wasted.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Hoshi’s eyes searched hers, his heart racing wildly.

“W-What was that for?” he whispered, his voice barely steady.

Y/N smiled softly, her forehead resting lightly against his.

“I’ve been holding back for too long,” she whispered, her fingers still gently cradling his face. “You finally said how you feel… so now I can finally say it too.”

She leaned back just enough to look into his eyes, her gaze sincere.

“I love you, Hoshi.”

The words hit him harder than he expected. His heart felt like it might burst.

A slow smile spread across his face, soft and full of warmth. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering gently against her cheek.

“I love you too,” he whispered back, his voice filled with so much emotion it made her chest tighten.

He kissed her again softer this time, slower, like he had all the time in the world. And for the first time, they did.

No more hiding.

No more holding back.

Just them.————————————————————————————-

[megalony]

Matters Of The Heart- Part 2

It's been too long since I posted the first part of this Evan Buckley imagine, but here is finally the second part.

I hope you will all like it, feedback always makes my day.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05 @creat1venat1onn @devilslittlehelper @darlingcharling-blog @bear8585

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: (Y/n) and Evan keep their relationship private, but they're happy. But when (Y/n) falls pregnant, she doesn't know what to do; she's suffered miscarriages before and worries this will end up the same way.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So… how'd it go? You never said." Hen slumped herself down on the sofa and folded her left arm over the back of the sofa. She propped her head up on her hand and curled her knees up on the seat while her eyes focused on the girl sitting in front of her.

(Y/n) couldn't lift her gaze from the steaming cup of coffee she was nursing like she was trying to bring it back to life. Her fingers grazed up and down the red speckled cup and she brought her knees closer to her chest before she finally looked up.

Part of (Y/n) hoped they wouldn't have to have this conversation. It was unnaturally easy to know just what subject Hen was talking about without needing any other details.

Hen had become more than a little nervous after finding (Y/n) with the pregnancy test last week. And she was growing more and more worried by the day when she didn't get a call or even a text to say how it had ended up.

"You can talk to me, you know."

She knew. (Y/n) knew she could open up to Hen with just about anything. She could of said she'd murdered someone and Hen would still try to understand and help her through it. That was how close they had gotten while working together and it was something (Y/n) loved about her friend. That she was always so willing to listen attentively and try to help in any way she could.

But (Y/n) didn't want any help right now, even if part of her wondered if she needed it.

A big part of her was saying to lie. False alarm. It was negative. Nothing to worry about. Her mind was screaming at her to tell any one of those lies and brush this under the rug. Push it away and hope that the conversation, and the event itself, would fade into a distant memory.

But telling a lie didn't make it a truth, no matter how hard (Y/n) wished for it to be so. She took a quick look around the loft, making sure no one else was within ear shot before she spoke.

"Positive." The word fell from her lips like a droplet of rain cascading down from the clouds. Quiet, soft, disappearing as soon as it was seen.

She watched Hen move her hand round from cradling the back of her head to run across her mouth and across her cheek. The way Hen pursed her lips and looked down showed she was trying to think. She was trying to come up with an answer, some sort of comforting phrase or some logic that might make this seem less frightening.

"Have you gone to the doctors yet? I'll go with you if you want." Hen knew it was frightening to go to the doctors for just about any reason. Let alone going to talk about a new pregnancy like this when (Y/n) was already so worried and certain that it would end badly.

If she didn't want to go alone- something Hen would not recommend at all- then Hen would gladly go along with her for moral support and help her talk through this and decide what she wanted to do.

"I'm not going, at least not yet." Maybe it was the stubbornness within her heart, but (Y/n) didn't want to.

She didn't want to see a doctor and have this dream confirmed, only to have it crushed in a few weeks. Her mind was made up on the fact that pregnancy was not something her body was capable of doing.

(Y/n) would rather wait a few weeks and see if she miscarried. If by some miracle she didn't, then she would go to the doctor and see if this was going to be possible and get herself checked out. She would rather live in denial than try and bask in this dream because all dreams broke eventually. Everyone had to wake up and this was going to be a harsh awakening when it eventually happened.

"You should get checked out, after last time you might develop complications, we should make sure you're okay at least."

Tears bubbled over in (Y/n)'s eyes but she did her best to push them aside and she took a large gulp of coffee. Relishing in the way it burned the back of her throat and ignited something in her chest and calmed down the panicked butterflies swarming to life.

She knew having an ectopic pregnancy before put her at risk of having other complications. She could have another ectopic pregnancy, although it was rare, it wasn't unheard of. But (Y/n) couldn't bring herself to care. She couldn't care because she couldn't let herself believe this was happening. Ignoring this was the only way (Y/n) knew how to cope.

This was something she wanted. This was something she would choose, to have a baby, and to see Evan with a baby made (Y/n)'s heart do a funny sort of leap in her chest like it was agreeing with her.

But if she told him now and then she lost the baby, she would have given Evan unnecessary heartbreak and all for nothing. And if (Y/n) let herself indulge in this fantasy and believe she was going to have a baby, how bad was it going to be when the bubble burst?

"Not yet."

"Then… then can you promise me you'll get an appointment in what, two or three weeks? You need to look after yourself and you know the rules; if you are, you can't be on full duties." Hen lowered her voice towards the end of her words and ducked her head closer to (Y/n)'s as if to make sure only she heard those words.

They had rules at the station for a reason and (Y/n) had to look after herself. She had to make sure she was okay to be at work and that she wasn't struggling or having any complications that could put her at risk.

And if she was pregnant, she had to be on restricted duties to keep her and the baby safe. That wasn't negotiable and Hen didn't want to get to the point where she had to go and talk to Bobby for (Y/n)'s safety or find out (Y/n) was trying to hide this pregnancy from everyone and carry on working. She would put herself at risk and if she got hurt or she collapsed, they would all feel responsible.

Not to mention the fact that (Y/n) wouldn't be liable for sick leave or any compensation and could in fact be reprimanded if she was hurt while pregnant on the job and hadn't disclosed the news at the earliest opportunity.

"Two weeks, I swear."

It didn't feel like enough time. (Y/n) could feel her throat closing up and her head started to swim at the thought of a timer she had now set off in the back of her head.

Two weeks. That was barely any time at all, but it was the limit because (Y/n) knew she had to be two or closer to three months along by now. And fourteen weeks was as far as she had ever gotten before she lost the baby. She had to get checked out before that marker to see if she was in danger and then she would need to be careful.

She would need to wait for the inevitable.

In two weeks, she would make herself an appointment with her doctor and ask Hen to tag along with her so she didn't have to do this on her own.

"Are you going to tell Eddie? I think you should, you need support-"

"It's not Eddie's."

She couldn't help the sharp tone to her voice or the way she cringed as she spoke. Somehow, (Y/n) felt like she was making a scene of herself by admitting that fact, simply because it implied she had been with someone else. It wasn't as if she had ever cheated on Eddie and they had never been in a labelled relationship. It had simply been a fling when they both needed someone, and it ended on good terms.

But (Y/n) didn't like admitting that she had gotten into another relationship and hadn't mentioned it to anyone on the team. That she hadn't mentioned it to Hen, her best friend. It made her feel sleezy, like she had a secret that was too sordid to tell.

(Y/n) put her cup down on the coffee table and let her feet slide down to the floor. "I told you, we're just friends. Besides, that was almost two years ago."

She could see it. She could see in Hen's eyes that she wanted to ask. She wanted to be curious and ask if (Y/n) had met someone special or if she was finally happy with someone. Because for the last few months, she had started to notice a change in (Y/n). She was happier, more confident in herself and her work and she was starting to come out of her shell and go out after work.

There was someone that made (Y/n) happy and that was all that Hen had ever wanted for her.

But before Hen could ask, a familiar alarm blared out above them and both girls groaned and dropped their heads forward.

A new call.

Here we go again.

***

"He's coding, starting compressions." A deep grunt left Evan's lips as he pushed up from his seat in the ambulance until he was bent over the gurney.

His hands interlocked and pressed down against the victim's chest as he began CPR compressions. He tensed his back and pushed his knees into the frame of the gurney to keep steady when the ambulance swerved to the left.

His eyes glanced up to the right to check Chimney had the air bag placed over the victim's nose and mouth to give him oxygen while Evan kept pressing down. CPR never settled well with Evan after he had tried to save someone once and fractured two of her ribs. He could still hear the spine-tingling crunch and the way he felt the bone cave beneath his hands and he hadn't even applied that much pressure.

But he could see that Chimney had his hands full trying to stem the bleeding in the man's neck and give him a saline drip. There was no use Chimney moving round when Evan was sat right at the man's side and available to do the compressions.

This wasn't the direction Evan imagined today's shift going. The daily reports got heavier when they had to give CPR and if the man didn't survive that would mean triple the paperwork. This was the part of the job that always made Evan nervous. He could climb cranes and run into burning buildings and clip to a harness and go down into craters. But having to try and keep someone's heart beating and giving them each breath they needed, that didn't settle right with him. It was too panicking.

Why had he been the one to climb in the back of the ambulance? This should have been Eddie or even (Y/n), both of them were trained medics. Evan wasn't a medic. But they had been giving statements to the police on scene, Hen was driving the ambulance and that meant Evan had to be the one to move the gurney along with Chimney and look after their victim.

It was a relief when the ambulance screeched to a stop and Evan knew he could soon hand this patient over to the professionals. This wasn't part of the job he wanted to be doing, he would rather let the doctors take over.

"Still no pulse," Chimney locked eyes with Evan who paused his compressions to check for a pulse.

With a deep breath, he began pressing down again as Hen opened the back door. They had to keep going, he had only just lost his pulse, they could keep his heart going until the doctors got it working properly or pronounced him dead.

"We need to move him." Evan locked eyes with Hen and dipped his head towards the end of the gurney so she got his point.

He would continue compressions if they would move the gurney and get them into the hospital.

Evan glanced down, never pausing his movements as he stood onto the metal beams beneath the gurney that he prayed would take his weight. The grooves of his boots slotted over the metal and locked him in place while his knees bent and locked in place and he hunched forward to keep his sense of balance.

There was no way Evan could successfully continue compressions if he had to walk and rush beside the stretcher. He needed to be stood in place and the only way to do that was to climb onto the gurney too.

He continued compressions while Chimney and Hen carefully clicked off the brakes and slid the gurney down from the ambulance onto the floor.

Evan couldn't look up from his task, he was far too focused and intent on keeping a steady compression rhythm, but his arms were beginning to grow tired and his back was aching. They were supposed to switch every two minutes because continuous compressions was a hard thing to keep up.

Although he didn't look up, Evan could hear the sound of the fire truck's sirens before they were switched off and the rumbling engine quietened down. Bobby, (Y/n) and Eddie had turned up on scene.

A quiet "Oh Jesus," muttered beneath Eddie's breath and his hands clamped down on his hips when they climbed down from the truck and looked over towards the rest of the team. They were performing CPR. Thing weren't looking good for their victim.

The sight of Evan hunched over the gurney, fingers interlaced, shoulders squared up and back doubled over made (Y/n)'s blood curdle. Evan looked so engrossed in his task, so determined and desperate and she could see his lips were curled into a rabid look that was making his nose crinkle.

He never took it well when they lost people on the job.

(Y/n) bound her arms around her middle as she followed after the gurney, her eyes locked on Evan. She followed along behind Chimney who was pushing the gurney while Hen was at the other end, pulling and steering them in the right direction.

She could feel Eddie and Bobby hovering close behind, the sound of their footsteps bashing on the pavement echoed in (Y/n)'s head that felt like a drum being violently whacked until it was about to split like a coconut.

It took all her effort to stop herself from breaking out into trembles. They had been working all day without a proper break and (Y/n) hadn't managed to stomach any lunch. She knew that once they got back to the station she would have to try and have a protein drink and take a minute to rest and build herself back up before they went on another call.

"Come on, let's go."

The guttural sound of Evan's voice made (Y/n) shudder and she picked up her pace even though she knew he wasn't talking to her, he was telling Chimney and Hen to hurry with the gurney.

Reaching one hand out, Chimney pressed his palm down on Evan's back to try and steady him as they steered through into the paramedic entrance to the emergency room. He knew Evan wasn't about to fall off but the twisting corners was making it harder for him to keep his balance and perform the resuscitation compressions.

As soon as a free nurse saw them, she waved them along and the stretcher was moving again, setting Evan's body back to being tense and stiff as a board to stay composed.

"He coded on the way, no pulse for one minute, punctured artery in the neck."

"Someone needs to take over from me now." Evan continued his compressions but his own chest was heaving and his arms were aching. Not to mention keeping his balance was causing his knees to bruise against the gurney and his thighs were locking up from how tense he had become.

He was grateful when a nurse hurried over to the opposite side of the gurney and on the count of three, Evan pulled back to let her start the compressions instead.

His legs felt like they had turned to liquid and from his ankles up to his thighs he was trembling with pins and needles and excess adrenaline.

His hand tangled in the short curls at the back of his head and he took a few steps away from the stretcher that was already being guided away. While Chimney gave the full spiel to one of the nurses so they had all the information they needed.

"Alright guys, I think that's our part over."

Bobby's voice seemed to go in one ear and out the other for (Y/n). She heard him, but she couldn't register what he was saying. Each word sounded foreign and she could make no sense of them. All she could fathom was how horrid her heartbeat sounded pulsing through her ears and how it was making her chest feel uncomfortable to notice and feel each beat rock through her chest.

Her nose crinkled and her eyes scanned around the corridor they were blocking. Maybe she needed to go back outside and get some fresh air and sit down.

She didn't get chance to try and walk outside. (Y/n)'s legs didn't feel like they were under her control anymore.

When her head lolled forward, her body followed its sense of direction and before she could reach out or stop herself, her body crumpled to the floor like a puppet without its strings. Her chin tucked down into her chest and white static filled her ears when her head collided with the polished laminate floor.

Her arms flopped around her waist and (Y/n) barely had the energy she needed to scrape her arms along the floor and bind them around her middle. She wanted to curl her knees and bring them up to her stomach, but it was too much effort that she didn't have.

"Shit!"

"(Y/n)? Hey, hey what's going on?"

Evan's nails scratched into the back of his scalp so suddenly that he hissed in pain as he spun on his heels to look behind him. His wide eyes narrowed slightly when he looked at his girlfriend and he could feel his chest stutter and pause as he tried to take in what was happening and why she was suddenly flat out on the floor.

Evan tried. He tried to bottle down the panic and overwhelming sense of urgency that was making him desperate to rush over there and push his colleagues out the way. No one knew about their relationship yet and Evan didn't think this would be the right time to break that news.

They were only keeping things quiet so it didn't cause any speculation or drama at work. And for Eddie's sake. Evan knew Eddie wouldn't be resentful, but it might make things awkward if he learned that his best friend was now in a relationship with someone Eddie used to have a fling with. They didn't want work to become awkward or for their friendships to be strained in any way.

Shallow breaths stuttered past Evan's lips as he skidded against the floor and hurried after Chimney to crowd around (Y/n). Both of them leaned in close but it took all of Evan's willpower not to crouch down and take over. He wasn't a medic and he didn't want them to know how close he really was to (Y/n).

He swallowed harshly when he watched Eddie and Hen crouch down beside (Y/n).

Eddie whipped the pen light from his top pocket and carefully held (Y/n)'s temple, tilting her head back so he could flash the light across her pupils that were constricting and barely able to see a thing.

"She's burning up." Eddie flipped his hand over so the back of his hand was pressed against (Y/n)'s forehead, but he could feel the sweat that was sticking his hand to her skin. She was burning a fever and she looked flushed. Why hadn't she said something? Why hadn't any of them noticed this earlier?

Panic bridled through Hen but she did her best to calm herself down while she pointed one hand behind her. "Chim, medic bag."

Once the bag was in her hand, Hen rummaged through and found a blood pressure cuff which she slid up (Y/n)'s arm while Eddie focused on trying to get (Y/n) to form a coherent word and focus. And Bobby's footsteps could be heard retreating down the hall to find a nurse. (Y/n) would needed to be examined and checked out before they even thought about taking her back to the station.

Even if this was just a funny turn or a sickness bug, she would have to be seen by a doctor and then signed off for the rest of her shift.

"(Y/n), are you still with me? Does anything hurt?" Eddie clipped an oxygen monitor onto her index finger and watched to see what reading he got for her pulse. But his eyes continuously flitted up to (Y/n)'s face, waiting to see if she would or if she even could answer him.

Her eyes were rolling around and trying their best to focus on him but she was half unconscious.

A groan left her lips and her body jerked before she pressed her cheek and temple into the ground. But when her lips parted, her throat tightened and she spewed up a puddle of water. Not surprising since she hadn't managed to eat any lunch today.

"Okay, I think she's gonna be dehydrated." Eddie tried his best to be careful when he nudged (Y/n) back towards the wall so she wasn't near the water she'd just thrown up.

He edged closer to her, relieved when her eyes finally opened and she seemed a bit more coherent and like she was able to see him this time rather than stare right through him as if he were invisible.

"BP's starting to crash. She's either run down or caught an infection, she needs to be admitted." Hen rolled up the blood pressure cuff and folded it back into the medic bag and her hands braced on her thighs as she resisted the urge to sigh.

It wasn't her place to tell anyone on the team that (Y/n) was pregnant and that this could be due to morning sickness. And she certainly didn't want to think about this meaning (Y/n) might just be losing the baby. Hen knew (Y/n) was dead set on the fact that she believed this wasn't going to work out. She didn't think she could have a baby and she seemed to be waiting for the day that it went downhill and this dream faded into a nightmare.

Hen wanted to believe that this was simply (Y/n) being rundown or suffering with a bit of sickness rather than thinking. But in the end it didn't matter what Hen chose to believe or even what (Y/n) was thinking right now. All that mattered was getting a doctor to check her over and find out what was happening.

"Alright guys let's get her on the stretcher and someone will take a look at her." Bobby patted Hen's shoulder and indicated to the stretcher behind him where a nurse was standing by.

There were assessment cubicles free, the nurse would take (Y/n) into one of them and check her over. They couldn't stay here in case other ambulances came back and needed to come through. They were blocking the corridor.

Evan took that as his moment to weave in between Hen and Eddie so he could try and make himself useful. He didn't like standing back and watching, especially when it was (Y/n) who needed help. And Hen seemed to understand because she shuffled back and got to her feet to help guide the stretcher over, letting Evan take her place.

He tried to catch (Y/n)'s eye once Eddie eased her into a sitting position, but she wouldn't look at him. She wouldn't look at any of them, her eyes were trained on her trembling hands that were laid limp against her thighs.

He slid his hands beneath (Y/n)'s thighs, trying not to grip her too tightly while Eddie hooked his hands beneath her arms and on the count of three, they lifted her between them. They eased her onto the stretcher and Evan didn't like the way (Y/n)'s head lolled to the right like she was about to slide back onto the floor.

Evan quickly reached his hand up to hold (Y/n)'s shoulder, gently pushing her back against the stretcher to keep her in place.

The nurse and Eddie began steering the stretcher down the corridor towards the assessment cubicles with the team following along like an entourage. When Evan heard Chimney mutter to Bobby "Do we stay with her?" he turned in their direction and stood outside the cubicle that (Y/n) got wheeled into.

"I can stay." Evan knew it wasn't strictly protocol for everyone to stay, no matter how close they all were and how they all wanted to make sure (Y/n) was alright. The rest of the team would need to go back to the station to finish shift and handover to the next crew. And they were already a person down with (Y/n) now being here.

"Are you sure Buck?"

"My shift is technically finished anyway, I'll stay with her and when I know what's happening I'll call you."

He would be finishing in twenty minutes or so, there was no point everyone staying or someone else staying and Evan going back to the station for a mere twenty minutes. He may as well wait along with (Y/n). Plus, he was her partner. There was no way Evan could go back on shift and just wait around for news. He would finish and come straight back here anyway.

He didn't quite like the look of contemplation on Eddie's face as he stood in the doorway, hands on hips and one knee jutting forward. He looked like he wanted to interrupt, to debate and say that he wanted to stay instead. But when Bobby nodded and patted Evan's shoulder, Eddie seemed to relent.

He couldn't really argue when the rest of them needed to be back on shift and they all couldn't stay here.

A look of contemplation flooded Hen's eyes as she leaned over the bed (Y/n) had been transferred onto. She knew she would have to go now with the rest of the team, but she wanted to double check (Y/n) was okay with that. If she wanted Hen to stay or talk to the doctors for her, then she would.

Her hand slid down to hold (Y/n)'s. "Do you need me to call anyone for you? If you want me to stay-"

(Y/n) shook her head. It was hard to do when the movement made her eyes roll and sent her stomach churning from the unbalance it caused, but she continued to shake her head. She didn't want Hen to try and call anyone for her. The only person she needed was Evan and he was currently stood in the doorway with that determined look that said he wasn't going anywhere.

She just needed Hen to keep quiet for a little bit longer, to not mention the pregnancy to anyone. Especially not Eddie or Evan. Who knew, after today (Y/n) might not have to think about it again.

(Y/n) could barely keep her eyes in focus with the tears that were beginning to roll down her face.

She tried to focus as Hen squeezed her hand before she left the room, trading places with Evan.

Both her arms bound around her middle once again to try and settle her system. She felt a great urge to be sick, but (Y/n) knew there was nothing left in her system. The few drinks of juice she had tried to have earlier had been spewed in the corridor. She was probably running on last reserves and had over-exerted herself today.

Or maybe this was it. Maybe this was the end of the dream. Perhaps this was when she lost another pregnancy and reality finally came crashing back down on her like a tidal wave from the ocean. It didn't matter that (Y/n) had been telling herself this was going to happen, it still made her heart break all the same.

Her knees tried to coil up towards her middle but (Y/n) didn't have the energy to keep them tensed up and her heels scraped against the bed as her legs slid back down again.

She tried to tilt her head down when Evan walked into the room and when he sat down on the edge of the bed, (Y/n) didn't dare look up.

Her pulse was throbbing in her ears and her fever felt like it was raging the same heat as a volcano, especially when Evan's hand took one of hers and their fingers interlaced together. His fingers danced across the back of her hand and squeezed every few seconds and (Y/n) could feel his hip nudging her thigh, trying to gain her attention.

When she continued to stare down at their hands rather than look up at him, Evan gently leaned forward and pressed his free hand beneath her chin. His thumb traced along her lower lip and he aimed her head up so she was looking at him. But he still found it hard to catch her eye and get her to focus on him rather than try to look at anything else in the room.

Why was she avoiding him?

"The nurse won't be long… you didn't really eat lunch today, did you? You've probably been doing too much." The concern laced into Evan's voice made (Y/n) shiver and she couldn't keep eye contact with him any longer.

Her chin tilted down, nudging into his touch but a dozen more tears drenched her face. And when her lower lip began to wobble and quiet cries left her lips, Evan tensed up. He hadn't meant to make her cry. He wasn't trying to have a go at her or be rude, he was only trying to calm her down and make her feel better.

He had noticed her barely touch her lunch- not that they'd had a lot of time to sit down and eat with the constant calls they had been going out on today. But he noticed, and he knew she wasn't drinking as much as the rest of them either. Evan suspected she had just been working too hard, pushing herself too much without a break and this was the end result.

"Sweetheart, it's okay-"

"N-no it's not." (Y/n) hiccupped through her words and tilted her head down again so she wouldn't have to look at him and his sorrowful expression.

"What do you mean?"

Was she sick? Well, of course she was sick, but was there something more to it than that? Did (Y/n) have a condition or something seriously wrong with her that she hadn't told Evan or the rest of the team?

Evan didn't like the sound of that. A sceptical look flooded his face as his hand tightened around hers and he brought her hand to rest on his lap while his head inclined to one side once their eyes finally locked again. He didn't like the panic he could see building up in (Y/n)'s eyes. He didn't like the way her lower lip was wobbling and she was starting to sob and shake at the same time.

"Baby…" (Y/n) could barely keep her eyes open when her head started to spin and Evan started to blur before her eyes. Her hand squeezed his before she pulled their entwined hands from his thigh to move his hand against her stomach instead. "Baby."

She repeated the word again and pressed Evan's hand into her stomach until he got the hint. She didn't want to have to say the words out loud. She didn't want to tell Evan at all.

But he wasn't going anywhere and as much as (Y/n) would of preferred to have Hen witness this rather than break Evan's soul with this dilemma, he was here. (Y/n) needed him to stay here with her and she needed him to know because she would have to tell the nurse when she came in.

(Y/n) would have to tell the doctor so they knew to check if this was a miscarriage like (Y/n) suspected. And she couldn't hide this from Evan for long. She should have told him already; she knew that.

Evan let (Y/n) press his hand down on her stomach for a bit longer. He couldn't find the will to move, let alone the power to speak. He didn't know what to do with himself or now to comprehend what she was clearly trying to tell him.

"You're pregnant?"

A look of panic flooded Evan's face when (Y/n) nodded just as the door opened and a nurse walked in.

His blue eyes seemed to ignite and (Y/n) was sure that at any moment he was going to start crying too. Shivers coursed through Evan's body and his free hand moved to drag through his hair, catching the curls between his fingers and pulling until it felt like he was going to tear them from his scalp.

"Ooh (Y/n)!" Her name hissed past Evan's lips as he snapped his eyes closed and dragged his hand from his hair to run down his face.

Why didn't she tell him sooner? Why didn't she tell him when she found out? How long had she known and left Evan in the dark? He could see clearly that she was only telling him now because she didn't know whether her sudden collapse was because she was sick, or because it had something to do with the baby.

(Y/n) shivered when she felt Evan's hand tighten around hers and his nails pierced into the back of her hand as he turned to look at the nurse who was now standing beside the bed.

He could hear her mumbling 'high blood pressure' and 'fever' and 'collapsed' under her breath as she looked through the notes she had been given. The notes which had been written down in haste before the rest of the team had left to head back to the station.

"She's pregnant."

He watched the nurse's eyes widen before she added that to the chart. "I'll need to take some blood samples and send them to pathology."

Evan nodded despite the way (Y/n) turned her head away from the nurse and nuzzled her face into the pillow as she whimpered. She didn't do well with needles and having her bloods done when she felt like this would only make her feel faint. But she knew she didn't have a choice.

She was half expecting Evan to let go of her hand and walk away from her. She thought he might stand in the corner of the room and refuse to talk to her while he tried to wrap his head around this news. He had every right to be upset with her. (Y/n) didn't want to know how he would of reacted if he knew that deep down, she wasn't going to tell him at all if this hadn't of happened.

Her mind started to wander and when she closed her eyes, (Y/n) found that she didn't hold the energy to try and open them again. Maybe going to sleep might make her feel better. Maybe this would all be a bad, distant dream by the time she woke up. If only.

But she managed to hear what Evan whispered in that broken voice that made (Y/n)'s already aching heart pulse and throb.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

[gold-onthe-inside]

no grave can hold my body down

who? emily prentiss (s7) x teacher!reader summary: your grief over losing emily is forced undone when she re-appears seven months later outside your apartment content warnings: no smut, pg13 though, def suggestive word count: 1.8k songs: tarantino by plvtinum, skin and bones by david kushner, i wanna be yours by sofia karlberg

You had never been one to kid yourself — your life was probably as mundane as it could get, the highs and lows scored by the school bell, hefting a pile of essays to correct at home with a glass of wine darker than the red you mark up your papers with. Seven months ago, you might have had company over, a certain raven-haired woman with dark lipstick and a low cut top, her handgun and badge stowed away somewhere.

You’d met at a seminar on school shootings, one that was district-wide, the appointed representive for your school, and for some inexplicable reason, you had caught her eye. She’d been the one to make the first move, obviously. Women who look and sound like Emily Prentiss always get what they want. Two drinks had loosened your lips, the magnetic charm of her dark gaze drawing you closer to her, leading to her brownstone apartment, much nicer than yours.

You let out a slow, shaky breath as you walked to your car, a blushing orange painting the sky as you left the essays in the passenger seat and closed the door behind you, and when you bit your lower lip, you can remember how Emily would have used her thumb to pull it free, tipping your chin back to kiss you smoothly. Seven months in the grave and she still wouldn’t leave you alone.

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” she had whispered and you hadn’t cared. It had feverish and each kiss felt like molasses, thick and rich, her hands running all over your neck, then down to grasp your thigh. Her fingers slowly pulled up the edge of your skirt, pushing it up as her hand slowly made its way up your thigh, all the while continuing to kiss you hard. She was so focused, so determined, like all she wanted in the world was to take you entirely as her own.

Your breath had been so sweet, the faintest taste of bourbon shared between your lips as the kiss turned hungry and demanding, Emily’s tongue pressing between your lips to taste the warmth of your mouth, a low groan escaping her lips as she grasped at the hem of your blouse.

You dropped your head on the back of your seat, running a hand through your hair — how many times was your body was going to torture you like this? It was like Emily was a part of you, the absence of her touch, of her presence, aching like a missing limb. You pulled out your phone, replaying old voicemails just to hear the sound of her voice. Calls from hotel rooms across the country, telling you that she was thinking of you. A dark and enigmatic woman turning into a soft kitten, leaving you cheesy messages about how she wondered if you were looking at the same moon as her.

You weren’t even her girlfriend, or so you kept having to remind yourself when she reappeared once a week with a book she thought you’d like. Some people collected mugs, or fridge magnets from airports. Emily brought you books, books that you’d devour and tab and text her about in your lunch hours. Who’s got you smiling like that? they would tease, and you’d reply with a smile and a shake of your head. Who was Emily to you? Someone who had snuggled into your chest, warming your heart, and then leaving you, cold and hollow. Just something to house her in until the phone rang.

Somehow, you managed to gather your wits long enough to get yourself home, a cheap place in a surburban part of DC, and you left the dusty red sedan with your bag, your essays, and your car keys, hands too full to get to your apartment keys when you hear her first.

“Need a hand?” she asked, not as cocky and self-assured as you remember and you looked up to see her standing outside your building and you almost drop your things, staring at Emily. Sure, she’s haunted you every day since you met her, but you’ve never had a full-on hallucination. Your lips parted, frozen to the spot and Emily cautiously approached you, gently reaching for your papers.

“I…” You have no words. “Are you real?” you asked, your voice barely above a breath and Emily looked so… sad.

“I… um..” she said, the sadness in your eyes breaking her heart, so she gave you a small smile. “Yeah, I’m real. It’s okay… It’s okay, I promise I have an explanation for all of this,” she said, her voice desperate. You’ve never heard her desperate, not like this, with her heart in her hands. “Can we go inside, please?” Emily asked you, stirring you from your reverie and you fumble for your apartment keys, your head buzzing in confusion, like a television with no signal.

She’s quiet as she followed you in to your apartment, helping you set your things down so she could follow you into your living room. She didn’t know exactly how to tell you everything and make it all okay, so she just sighed, her hands nervously fiddling as she began to recount the story. To your credit, you listened to her without interrupting once; the undercover assignment, the international terrorist hunting her down, her old team members being killed one by one. You listen to all of it, your chest caving in as she spoke.

“I didn’t want to leave you,” she whispered softly, her eyes locked on to yours. “I’ve missed you.”

"You missed me?" you asked hollowly, looking at her.

“Yeah,” Emily sighed softly, knowing that she didn’t deserve you, but she would tell the truth, no matter how difficult it was. “I thought about you every night, even when I knew I shouldn’t.”

Your hands ran over your face, unable to help the thoughts that plagued you every time she would tell you about her work. You don’t belong here. This whole thing was so laughable that you actually snorted a little in derision at your own stupidity. “I teach high school English, Emily,” you scoffed, unable to look at her. “God, what was I thinking, getting involved with a federal agent?”

“I know,” Emily whispered, and you can hear her voice cracking slightly. She had hurt you, and she had known exactly what she was doing when she had asked you to be her… whatever you were to her. She had only wanted you a little bit, had told you that she couldn’t give you all of her, because she didn’t trust that you could keep her all to yourself, and she regretted each and every one of those words. But her regrets wouldn’t help you, so she simply asked, “Is there anything I can do to fix this?”

"Fix what, Emily?" you asked, not quite angry but, like you had given up the fight. "Come on, who are we kidding with this? We don't... Emily, we don't belong together. An international spy and an English teacher?"

She hadn’t expected you to welcome her back with open arms, even though she’s wanted you to, especially after she thought about you every day for months, the taste of you lingering on her lips as she lay awake in bed. But the hurt she had done to you was greater than any of the good she’d done, and she just asked, “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to go?”

You looked at her, your eyes heartbroken. "I want you to stay," you said quietly. "I always want you to stay. But I just... I don't think you're the kind of person who stays."

Her throat tightens at your words and she sighs, nodding her head. She looks down at the floor, closing her eyes for a moment as she tries not to cry. “I don’t have the best track record,” she admitted softly, “but you’re not just some person. Not to me,” she whispered softly, her hand gently reaching for yours. She didn’t pull you close, but simply held your hand, giving you a sad look as she softly said, “I don’t want to go.”

You looked at your hands, taking a breath before intertwining your fingers with hers. She can’t help but smile at that and she squeezed your hand, taking comfort in the warm touch of your fingers. She’d missed the feel of your skin against hers, and she wondered if you had missed her just as much. "I don't want you to go," you whispered, looking up at her.

“I don’t want to go,” she repeated with a small smile and she pulled you a little closer, resting her forehead against yours. “Not unless you ask me to.”

"You know I won't," you murmured, closing your eyes, her heat making you dizzy.

“Then I’ll stay,” she whispered softly, and she finally leaned down, meeting your lips with a gentle kiss. You taste just as good as she remembered. You let go of her hands, cupping her face to kiss her harder. She sighed into your mouth, her hand gently cupping your cheek, pulling you a little closer to make the kiss deeper. She’s almost afraid that you’ll disappear, but with your arms wrapped around her neck, she feels safe for the first time in months.

continued... (nsfw, mdni)

[diminuel]

So I’ve been really enjoying your Lady Rocks stuff especially the world most ridiculous family tree one. And it made me think of a silly crack theory I had a long time ago.

Basically Sabo doesn’t look like his parents but as a child he looks a lot like Doflamingo did as a kid. So theory is that his clout chasing parents got a tip about a Celestial Dragon, sent a maid or something to have a one night stand in hopes of getting a World Noble baby, only to find out his family line was banished and that included their new newborn. So they were just stuck with Sabo, without the perks they wanted, but he was still something of a status symbol so kept him. And they just never told Sabo about it. The rest is history.

Idk if you’ll like it, but I guess potential for an even crazier family line.

!!!!

*lol*

I had to think about this, because it's very possible that Outlook heard Garp chatting to someone (Tsuru?) about that Celestial Dragon that's been keeping them on their toes in the North Blue (of course Garp would be shouted at to keep his mouth shut but he's all "you didn't hear anything, did you??" to Outlook who just agrees very easily, but is internally rubbing his ambitious hands.)

But that maid must be quite courageous (or loyal??) to go through with that. While Goa, as a member of the World Government and being so close to the Redline, might have regular trading vessels going to the North Blue because the WG does allow people officially crossing the Redline if they go through the regular process.

(It might also be that a young Didit was ambitious enough to pack her sexiest lingerie and go herself. But eh, I don't know.)

So it might not be too hard to do very rudimentary research and then put the maid on a trading vessel to the North Blue. And then she'd just have to place herself in a bar frequented by some unsavory characters, bid her time and make her move.

(Now the question is just: is this maid then taken out of the picture by the tragic mother's curse reigning in the OP world or is she paid off and living a pleasant life on a beach somewhere, never wasting another thought on this kid?)

And I think it makes sense that Sabo's parents would keep him. He was a costly investment and surely even expelled, there's got to be something in Sabo's Celestial Dragon blood that makes him fated to rule. Maybe it just takes a couple more steps until they can ascend to the Holy Land! First! Make sure he is raised as husband material for the princess of Goa. The rest will surely come. X3

(I think I also like the fact that Sabo muses on how he feels like a bird in a cage. A cage he has been put into because of who his biological father is - a guy famous for his devastating bird cage attack. *eyes emoji*)

Anyway. Stamp of approval for the most insane timeline expansion *lol*

(And if Doflamingo ever finds out, he's going to be so insufferable about co-parenting with Crocodile and Dragon. Especially Crocodile, I doubt he cares enough about Dragon apart from just enjoying pushing any buttons he can uncover *lol*)

P.S. the idea that if Doflamingo takes the glasses off he has Sabo's round eyes under them just flashed through my head! I know he doesn't as we've see one of his eyes in the flashback but still X'D

[the-heliophile]

COFFEE - SEVIKA

FROM FOURMI 🐜💌 Currently suffering from an unhealthy Vi, Sevika and Ambessa obsession, yes I have a type what can I say I love hot women that can just throw me around

song. coffee, chappell roan

pairing. ex!Sevika x ex!reader

content. angst/sadness, no happy ending, kind of toxic Sevika?, no use of she/her but fem implied reader

summary. your ex Sevika asks you to meet up for drinks and you try not to end up in her bed again

You were lounging in bed, still blinking away the fog in your eyes when you got a text. You picked up the phone and squinted to read the time, 8:36AM, you sighed before looking at the actual text.

Unknown number : up for drinks later today?

You sighed, knowing exactly who it was from and how it would end. You and Sevika had broken up over three months ago but you still received an occasional text from her. You fought the urge to answer right away, taking a deep breath and trying to calm your heartbeat first. After a few minutes you gathered the strength to type out an answer.

You : sure, coffee after work ?

Unknown number : only coffee ?

You : I kind of have plans for tonight sorry

"I'd suggest the jazz bar on MaryAnn Street but,

You'd buy me a drink and we know where that leads, so"

You had made that mistake too many times, meeting Sevika for drinks at the end of a rough day, expecting it to end with you parting ways amicably just to be proven wrong each and every time. There was something to her, an allure that you quite couldn't resist, as if her soul was calling out to yours but her heart was constantly pushing you away. It was the reason you had broken up in the first place, her pushing you away, keeping out of the loop so you would never get involved in Silco's business. She meant well and you knew it, but there was only so much you could take. Too many nights where you'd stare at the clock wondering if she would make it home this time, too many times only getting to see her in the early hours of the morning just for her to be too drunk to even speak. You wanted, needed security, someone who could spare some time for you, confide in you and make you feel like a partner instead of a child they must keep out of everything.

"I'll meet you for coffee 'cause if we have wine

You'll say that you want me, I know that's a lie"

You remember the last time you agreed to go out for drinks with Sevika. You both stayed at the Last Drop for several hours, reminiscing the good moments of your relationship, catching up on each other's lives. It only took a couple drinks for the look in her eyes to go from its usual detachment to that dark arousal you'd see whenever she would get home after a hard day. And it was only a couple more drinks that led to Sevika kissing your neck in the back of the bar, she still remembered every erogenous zone, every sensitive spot there and she was kissing them almost earnestly. You crumbled in a few minutes and you ended up in her bed, once again, and once again you promised yourself it would be the last time. She never had any regards for you in the morning, barely addressing you while you were picking your clothes up and getting dressed, it made you feel dirty and yet you could never resist, you always fell for the sweet nothings she had whispered in your ear in her drunk haze.

"If I didn't love you, it would be fine"

Sevika knew she was hurting you every time it happened, but you also hurt her when you broke up with her. She was trying to do the good thing in your relationship, saw you as a light she did not want to dim with stories of the things she did. The truth was that Sevika loved you, in her own way, but she saw you as something fragile, breakable that she should protect. She was incredibly angry and hurt that you had broken up with her after two years, despite all the times she had explained her reasoning, she felt as though it was selfish of you and so she refused to let you just move on. Whenever she found herself missing you she would send a text, asking to go out, knowing full well you would never say no. She would never ask you to take her back, instead she would rather wait until you asked for her to come back to you, but every single time you joined her for the evening Sevika could tell how stiff you were, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt and refusing to look in her agate eyes. Every night ultimately ended up with you in her bed and her almost urging you out in sheer frustration that you wouldn't make the first move. So even if she knew her actions were hurting you, she also knew you still had feelings for her and she texted you once again, capitalizing on your feelings for her to secure a spot by your side, albeit temporarily.

"I'll meet you for coffee, only for coffee,

Nowhere else is safe, every place leads back to your place"

You had just gotten home from work and you immediately started getting ready, there was a little skip in your step for the whole way home, the idea that you would get to meet up with Sevika for something other than getting drunk was making you feel almost giddy. While doing your make-up your mind started drifting to all the soft moments exchanged between Sevika and you and eventually memories of your drunk nights together. Eventually the giddiness faded into bitterness, the corners of your mouth lowering from the grin you were sporting earlier and your shoulders slumping slightly. You knew, deep down you knew. It wouldn't be just coffee, she'd suggest the Last Drop and you'd agree with a "something came up" text to your friends. And once more you'd wake up in her bed feeling used. You look at yourself in the mirror, feeling Sevika's hand around your heart tightening, you were almost fully done up but your mood had significantly worsened compared to when you stepped into your bedroom.

"So let's not do coffee, let's not even try,

It's better we leave it and give it some time"

You let out a defeated sigh before grabbing your phone, typing a quick text to the number you still haven't saved again since you deleted it the first time because "that way you won't be tempted to text her".

You : Sorry, something came up, raincheck?

Unknown number : Sure, what about Saturday?

You : I'll be busy sorry, but I'll text you when I can !

You lied, you won't text her, not again, it had to end. It was time for you to move on and get on with your life. You shed a few tears, your mascara now running down your cheeks and take a deep breath to steady yourself. Promising yourself it was the very last time you had given her the time of day.

''Cause If we do coffee, it's never just coffee,

It's never just coffee"

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 12 - War Crimes

Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic. CW: +18 content MDNI, Sex, PiV sex. AN: Believe it or not this is still a poly fic, I promise.

Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

Farah and Alex stick in the woodline, they’re looking out over the building. You’re not really sure you’re going to need them but at least you have backup if you do. This time Soap showed you how to use the radio. 

“So what did Price say?” You ask as you walk down the farm. 

“They made it across the border, on their way to Volgograd. They’ll be keeping in touch via Laswell.” 

“Who’s that?” 

“CIA contact.” 

“CIA? I thought you were British? What are you doing with the Americans?” 

“We go where we’re needed.” He says with a sigh. You shrug as you make it down to the perimeter wall. Soap swings his weapon over his back and pulls himself up to the top of the wall. 

“C’mon.” He whispers, leaning back down to offer you his hand. You smile and take it, letting him pull you up to the top of the wall. When you’re on the other side you’re behind one of the garages. 

“They store everything in the barn. There’s a loose panel round the back.” You say pointing through the gap between buildings at the massive industrial metal barn. Soap nods, you let him lead skirting round the perimeter of the farm. You use the shadows for cover only moving when you know it’s safe. It doesn’t take you long to reach the barn. 

This is too easy, the place has less staff then you’ve seen before. There are still 2 guards on the front doors of the barn. 

“Farah, how are we looking?” Soap asks into the radio. 

“You’re clear, no movement.” Her voice comes back. Soap looks at you smiling and you push forward hugging the wall as you make it round to the back of the building. Just as you remember there is a loose perplex panel hanging off. Its loud as you move it but you assume the barn is empty on the inside. You’ve been watching it for a few hours before making your move and no one has been going in or out. 

When you duck under the gap you come out into the massive barn. Anything that would have made you think this was a cattle barn has been removed. The place is now full of vehicles, ammo and weapons crates, different types of machinery and missiles. 

You wait for Soap to come through before follow him over to them. They look new, not like the old soviet ones you’re used to seeing. Some of them even have the American flag printed on them, although most of them have been scraped off or painted over. As you walk round the smaller ones you make it to some bigger ones. 

These ones look older, you’re not sure how old though. They’re different then the stuff you’ve ever seen. Soap looks back at you frowning as you follow him over. You walk over to a table with tools on it, there's papers strewn around. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” Soap says as his hand runs over one of the missile heads. You look down at the papers, the only thing that sticks out is the yellow and black radiation sign. You swallow hard looking back at the huge missile in front of you. 

“Soap. These-” You’re too shocked to speak. You pick up a piece of paper off the table. “These belong to Makarov.” 

“Farah, the missions off. We’re leaving, there’s nothing we can do here.” Soap says, you can’t tell if he sounds more angry or sad.  

“Why, what's happened? Is the place empty?” She asks. He turns to look at you holding down the button on his radio. 

“No, it’s worse. Makarov has nukes.” 

“Say again?” Alex asks. 

“There’s nuclear warheads here. We can’t do anything without setting them off.” Soap says. You fold the paper up and put it in your pocket. 

“Your exit is still clear. Get out of there.” It's almost like she had no emotions about the whole thing. 

“Wait.” You say grabbing Soap’s arm. “There has to be a computer here, we can find out what Al Qatala were shipping over the border if it wasn’t missiles.” 

“It’s too risky.” He says.

“What if Makarov has nukes in Russia?” You say. 

“We’d know if he had nukes in Russia” He says, you let go of his arm and he moves to the exit.

“You didn’t know there were nukes here.” You say. 

“It’s not worth the risk, c’mon!” He snaps, reaching out to grab your arm and pull you to the exit. As you let him drag you, you see into a control room.

“Look.” You say digging your heels into the ground to stop him. “There’s a computer, let me check it.” He huffs looking round quickly.

“Quick.” he says, letting go of your arm. You smile and rush in, there’s no login option. You look for anything, something like a spreadsheet or order forms anything you think you could recognise. Finally after what feels like a few minutes you find what looks like an order request. They’ve tried to encrypt it but it must have failed for some reason. 

“A few days ago. There was a shipment of warheads and stabilisers.” You say you're trying to translate, you have no idea what stabilisers mean, it’s not really the best translation and you’re being rushed. 

“Nukes?” He asks, you look over at him standing guard on the door.

“It doesn’t say.” There’s requests for a bunch of different types of chemicals, names of things you don’t even recognise.

“He’s playing around with chemicals. I don’t know what any of this means.” You say, you see Soap hesitate, looking around before coming over to see. He scans the document for a second before pointing at something.

“Its elements, chlorine, phosphorus, hydrogen.” 

“He’s making chemical bombs.” You say as a matter of fact. 

“Soap you better be out there you’ve got incoming.” Farah says. Before you even have time to react you hear a door open. You both duck and you hear Arabic voices echo in the massive barn. You start taking your radio off handing it to Soap.

“I’ll distract them, then you can leave.” You whisper.

“Are you crazy, they’ll kill you.” He puts his hand out to stop you. 

“I’ve talked myself out of worse situations. I’ve been here before, if they catch you they’ll kill you.” He sighs, taking it in his hands. 

“Your weapon too.” He points. You shake your head. 

“Might need to shoot my way out if they don’t believe me.” Before Soap can stop you you stand up. “Stay here, I'll get them out.” 

“Good luck.” He calls as you make it to the door. You smile at him and walk round the corner where you can hear the voices.

“Finally. Do you know how long I have been looking for someone in this place?” You say walking towards them. Confidence is key, you can do this. 

“Stay where you are!” One of them calls, they hold their weapons on you.

“Don’t shoot unless you plan on shipping my body back to Makarov.” You say, they look between themselves for a minute.

“You work for Makarov?” One of them asks.

“He sent me to find out why the next shipment is delayed.” You say putting your hands down and stepping closer to them. 

“We’re working on it.” One of them says as they lower their weapons.

“We have half the staff we used to have. Most people have been sent to fight the ULF.” The other one says. 

“Do you think I care about your staffing issues? That shipment was needed yesterday.” You say pointing at a random missile. “Who do I need to talk to to get some answers here?” 

“We’ll take you.” They say turning. You nod following them out the barn. You don’t want to end up speaking to whoever is in charge, they will definitely be able to sniff you out. You hang back, the people escorting you are two wrapped up in their own conversation to notice you lagging behind. 

As soon as they turn a corner you take your chance sneaking through the space between the 2 garages and round the back of the main building. You sneak through a gap in the wall. You hope Soap got out, you head towards the meeting point anyway. 

It’s not long before you see Soap step out from behind the trees. 

“Thanks.” He says handing you back your radio. You smile at him, putting it back on your hip. A few seconds later Farah and Alex step through the foliage too. 

“Is it true they have nukes?” Farah asks, her composure is completely different now. 

“Chemical weapons too. They’ve been shipping them into Russia.” Soap says. 

“Are you sure?” Alex asks, frowning. “We haven't seen anything.”

“I saw a shipping order.” You reach into your pocket and hand Farah the piece of paper you picked up. She looks at it Alex leans over to look too. Before she has a chance to say anything alarms ring out from the farm. You look over at Soap pressing your lips together. 

“Let's get out of here.” Alex calls. You nod and follow them deeper into the woods.

…

You’re not sure why the phone call with Price and Laswell is the most stressful part. 

“You did what?” Price snaps.

“It was my idea.” You say, flicking your eyes up to Soap who’s been standing back from the table with his arms crossed, his body language has completely changed. Not the laid back Soap you’re used to saying.

“I don’t bloody care whose idea it was you’re supposed to be resting, recovering before you come out here.” Price lets out a sigh.

“I think we have other things to worry about.” Alex says. 

“Alex’s is right. If the US finds out Al Qatala are shipping nukes over the border to Makarov and Konni we’re in trouble.” Laswell says. 

“What’s the US’s response going to be to this?” Price asks.

“I don’t know but I would assume they do not want private militias or terrorist organisations having access to such weapons.” Laswell says. 

“We don’t need the Americans invading here too.” Farah says. 

“They don’t even know yet, but we need to tell them right. We can’t keep this to ourselves?” Alex says. 

“No, we don't tell anyone! Not the Americans, not the British. We will deal with this problem ourselves.” Farah says.

“The ULF is not in a position to disarm nuclear warheads.” Laswell says her voice is more stern. 

“Won’t make a difference if they’re all being shipped to Russia.” You say. 

“We can’t let anymore come through. Whatever Makarov is planning we need to put a stop to it before the next shipment. When is it?” Price asks.

“3 days, although with the security breach it could be moved up.” You say. There’s silence. 

“Laswell, any changes in Makarov’s movements?” Price asks after what feels like forever.

“No, as far as I can tell he’s still in Volgograd.” She replies.

“Okay, I’m sending Nikoli to pick you up. He’ll fly you out to Volgograd.” Price says, you look round at everyone. There’s a new person now, Nikoli.

“Copy.” Soap says. It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak since he finished explaining everything to Price. 

“In the meantime stay put. I can’t be worrying about you getting yourselves killed.” Price says. “Send Laswell everything you know, we’ll speak soon.” There's a click on the line. 

“The data you got from the base on the border arrived yesterday. I can go through it, I'll have what you asked for by tomorrow.” Laswell says. 

“Thank you.” Farah says, before ending the call. You look over at Soap, he seems disappointed about something. 

“You should get some rest.” Farah says her eyes flicking to Soap. You move over to him resting your hand on his arm. 

“Let’s go. We should get something to eat at least.” You say looking up at him. His eyes land on you but they seem dark, distant. You don’t know if it's about the nukes or the response from Price but you’ve not seen him like this before. He nods and turns to leave.

He’s quiet while you get something to eat. Pushing food around his tray while you inhale whatever mush they’re serving. You talk, if not just to fill the dead air, you’re sure he’s heard some of the stuff before but he doesn’t even complain. 

“I’m going to take a shower.” He says suddenly before getting up and moving away before you have a chance to say anything. You look down at the uneaten food on his tray. 

…

You’re laid in the shared dorm room staring at the ceiling trying to think what he’s sad about. Or maybe he is just mad, maybe when he gets mad he goes silent. You feel like you don’t know him enough to judge him, or analyse him. A door opens and some people walk in, stripping their coats off and kicking off boots. 

You turn over in bed trying to ignore the noise and turning on of lights. You’re not going to be comfortable here, you’re not going to be able to sleep. Not with everything going on in your head, and now all you can think about is Johnny. 

You swing yourself out the cot pulling your boots back on and heading out the room with your coat tucked under your arm.

Johnny got his own room, maybe it’s because of his status, maybe it’s because Farah likes them. Whatever the reason, you would rather be with him then where you are right now. 

When you make it to his door you hesitate, he told you where he was staying before you left. You let out a sigh and knock. You wait a few seconds before it opens, he’s standing there topless with a raised eyebrow. 

“You okay?” You ask, swallowing the nerves. 

“Are you?” He asks. You nod, he steps to the side inviting you in. As soon as you’re through the threshold his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against him. 

“You’ve been quiet. Are you upset about something?” You ask, throwing your jacket over the chair. He lets out a long sigh burying his head in your neck. He doesn’t say anything, his hands running up your side, his touch is soft against your skin. 

“Was it what Price said?” You ask, he spins you in his arms. You press up against him, his cheeks are flushed. He reaches down and kisses you. His hands run up your shirt to your breasts. You put your arms up in the air breaking from the kiss so he can pull your shirt over your head. 

His kisses get deeper, more needy, his tongue running over your neck, across your collar bones. You moan out for him, his hands slipping past your waist band gently pulling your trousers down. His mouth locks round one of your nipples. He hums, nibbling and flicking your nipple. You push one of your hands through his hair. 

“Christ love, fuckin’ sweet as sugar.” He breathes, dropping to his knees and looking up at you. Looking up at you with those deep blue eyes. His lips wet and shining as he pulls your trousers down. You spread your legs for him, as much as you can. He kisses your stomach, his hands grip your ass digging his fingers into the soft flesh. 

His mouth continues to move down, his tongue hot, pressing against your skin, he moans and you continue to run your fingers through his hair.

“Johnny, bed.” You say. He looks up at you, one of your hands drops to stroke his cheek. He slowly stands back up until he’s towering above you. Your hands drop down to the front of his pants fiddling with his belt buckle.

He slowly starts to move you over to the bed, as soon as you reach it you gently push him down. He bounces on the cot, his mouth tipping open. You take a step back kicking your boots off and stepping out your trousers. 

“Lay down.” You say. He follows swinging his legs into the bed and laying flat with his head on the pillows. “Think we’ll get interrupted this time?”

“Did you lock the door?” he asks, nodding towards it. You turn, going over and securing the latch. When you look back round he’s shimmed his bottoms off laying naked in the bed. You watch as his hand strokes up and down his cock exposing the red tip. You walk over to him, you swing your legs over him kneeling on his thighs. You replace his hands with yours, his head tips back as you slowly shuffle closer to his hips. 

You don’t know if you’re helping, but this is the most vocal he’s been since you got back. You kneel up and he opens his eyes watching as you hover above him stroking up and down his cock. You smile at him before you ease yourself down on him. 

He lets out a groan, his hands coming to rest on your thighs. They run up and down as you slowly begin to ride him. It doesn’t take you long to get into a steady rhythm, he watches you, his hands gripping you tighter and tighter with each thrust.

His gentle moans turning into grunts and pants. Before long you’re panting along with him, your heart starts beating faster in your chest. He feels good, the last person you had sex with was Ivan and that was nothing like this. It was just a transaction, this is different, he’s reacting to you, his touch is soft as is his gaze, his moans. 

It makes you work harder, leaning over to run your hands over his chest, he has scars, a particularly nasty looking on his shoulder. Probably a bullet, you run your fingers over one on his chest. 

“Make a habit out of getting shot?” You ask him between pants. 

“Not really, just end up in sticky situations.” He says. You reach down and kiss him, rocking your hips on him. He breaks from the kiss, tipping his head back. 

“Christ, perfect love.” He says, letting out a long breath. He’s bucking his hips in time with you. You’re getting close, the new angle pressing against the spongy spot inside you. You close your eyes arching your back trying not to dig your nails into him.

He grips you tighter, he’s getting closer, so are you. You sit back up straight bracing your hands on his chest. You moan with him, letting him control the speed with his hands gripping your thighs. 

“Jesus.” He arches his back as he cums. You feel him throb inside you, he stops moving as you ride him through the orgasm, it only feels like a few seconds later when you cum to the feeling of him filling you up pushes you over the edge. 

You fall against him, laying on his chest. He wraps his arms around you and turns you in the bed, when he slips out of you, you feel empty. He kisses your forehead then you turn over on your back. 

He does the same letting out a long breath. He reaches down and pulls the blanket over you both, you turn to lean up against his chest wrapping your arm round his stomach. 

“It wasn’t what Price said. He’s not really angry. He doesn't get angry anymore, at least not with us.” He says after a few seconds, his hand runs down your back.

“Leaving you at the farm. Not knowing if you would get out or not.” You look up at him. “You could have died.” 

“So could you.” You say, you don’t know if that will help or not but it’s all you can think to say, you're surprised he even cared. “Besides I would have got out.”

“You’re too cocky, it’ll get you killed.” He says.

“You’re a soldier, you literally put your life on the line every day.” You scoff back. 

“We’re trained.” 

“Me too, in another world maybe I would have been like you.” You say running your hand across his chest. 

“You served?” 

“Military service is mandatory in Urzikstan.” You shrug. 

“Not really your thing?” He asks.

“I’m not good at following orders. Used to being alone. I learned a long time ago that people you love can hurt you the most.” You sigh resting your head against his chest. He chuckles. 

“What?” You ask. 

“I know someone who said something similar to me once.” He says he tightens his arm around you.

“Yeah?” You ask, sleepy. 

“Yeah, I think you’d like him.” 

“Maybe one day I’ll meet.” You say relaxing against him. He kisses the top of your head.

“Yeah, maybe one day you will.” 

Banners by plum98

[00valentina-writes00]

Sexually pent up reader x Abby

Please I beg of thee

So..I wrote headcanons first then I wrote a smut for ya dirty animals

✞⛧ Abby being pent up ✞⛧

✞⛧ During the day, Abby tries to keep it together. She’s used to being in control, so she’s mostly quiet, a little distant, but there’s this energy around her that’s hard to ignore. She might be a bit more focused than usual, like she’s trying to push everything down, but you’ll catch her glancing at you more often than she means to, like she’s waiting for something.

✞⛧ The tension builds up over the course of the day. At some point, she’ll be so pent up that the usual calm, cool Abby you know starts to crack. Her shoulders are tense, and if you’re close enough, she might even reach for you, touching your hand or your back like she’s trying to ground herself. But you know better—it’s her way of silently begging you to feel it too.

✞⛧ When she finally gets to you, Abby’s not rough for the sake of being rough, but she’s definitely more assertive than usual. It’s like she’s been holding herself back all day, and now she can’t help but take control. Expect firm, deliberate movements, her body pushing against yours with a clear sense of urgency. It’s not about being brutal, but it’s about finally being able to release all that pent-up frustration.

✞⛧ Abby’s words come out a little differently when she’s like this. She’s more demanding, her voice low and a little rough, like she’s been holding something back. “You’ve been driving me crazy all day,” she might say, her hands gripping your hips or wrists as she guides you where she wants you. “You know how bad I need this.”

✞⛧ If she uses a strap on you, Abby’s approach is controlled but with a clear intention to push you right to the edge. She’s methodical about it, making sure you feel every inch of her. She won’t rush, but she’s a little more forceful than usual, not letting you forget how much she wants this. You can feel her eyes on you, watching you carefully, making sure you’re just as into it as she is.

✞⛧ When she’s using the strap, she’s incredibly focused, her grip on your waist tight as she moves in and out of you. Every thrust is deliberate, as if she’s making sure you feel every second of it. She’s a little more vocal, groaning when she can feel you getting closer, her own desire bleeding into her actions.

✞⛧ If she’s really pent up, and the two of you are out in the woods or somewhere secluded, she’ll make it clear she wants you then and there. There’s something primal about Abby when she’s like this. She might pin you up against a tree, pressing you into the rough bark with her body. Her lips are on your neck, her hands pulling at your clothes, not caring about anything except the way you make her feel. It’s raw, quick, and messy—but she’s just so lost in the moment, in that need to have you.

✞⛧ She won’t be gentle, but she’ll make sure you’re safe and comfortable. When she’s this pent up, she’s driven by desire, but she still wants to take care of you, to make sure that even in the roughness, you’re enjoying it too. Her voice will be commanding but still loving. “Let me take care of you. I need this,” she’ll murmur against your ear, while her hands make sure you’re exactly where she wants you.

✞⛧ Afterward, though, Abby’s always tender. Even if she’s been aggressive or commanding, she’ll soften once it’s over. Her arms will wrap around you, pulling you close. She’ll kiss your forehead, trace your skin with her fingers, and silently apologize with her touch for being so rough earlier. You’ll know it’s not about punishing you—it was about a need she couldn’t control, and she makes up for it in the quiet moments afterward.

✞⛧ All of this, though, is rooted in Abby’s need to connect. She doesn’t do this just for herself. There’s an emotional side to it all—a sense of intimacy that goes beyond just physical release. Even when she’s lost in her own pent-up need, she still wants you to know that you’re her focus, her priority.

————————————————————————

The cabin is suffocating, thick with heat and the scent of pine, sweat, and the lingering musk of the rain-soaked earth outside. The lantern flickers low, throwing long shadows across the wooden walls, but all you can focus on is her.

Abby is pacing, shoulders tense, fists clenching at her sides like she’s barely keeping something inside. Her jaw is tight, lips pressed together, and those sharp blue eyes keep flicking to you—watching, waiting. The air between you is charged, crackling like a storm about to break.

The second you step inside, the tension snaps.

She’s on you before you can react, a blur of muscle and heat, pressing you back against the door with enough force to rattle the wood. Her breath is hot against your neck, her body solid, huge against yours, pinning you in place.

“You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me all fucking day.” Her voice is low, rough, barely controlled.

Her hands grab at your waist, fingers digging in like she’s trying to ground herself—but there’s nothing steady about the way she touches you. It’s desperate, hungry, like she’s been starving and you’re the only thing that’ll satisfy her.

Her mouth crashes into yours, no pretense, no hesitation—just heat and need and a possessiveness that leaves you breathless. She bites at your lip, dragging a groan from your throat before shoving her tongue into your mouth, swallowing the sound whole.

Her hands are already working beneath your shirt, rough palms sliding up your ribs, thumbs brushing over your nipples just enough to make you shudder. She growls against your mouth at the reaction, pressing her thigh between your legs and grinding up against you.

“Fuck, you’re already so wet.”

You don’t get a chance to answer. Her hand is right there, shoving past your waistband, fingers slipping through your slick folds like she knew you’d be dripping for her.

She exhales sharply, forehead pressing against yours. “Fuck.” It’s a guttural sound, like she’s barely holding on, like she’s been waiting too long for this.

Then, suddenly, she’s gone. Her warmth disappears for a second before you feel strong hands gripping your thighs, lifting you like you weigh nothing. A gasp tears from your lips as she carries you across the room and throws you onto the bed, your body bouncing against the mattress.

Abby is already stripping—yanking off her tank top, undoing her belt with a sharp tug, her muscles flexing under the lantern light. She looks wrecked already, flushed and restless, like she’s been holding herself back all fucking day and now that she’s got you here, she’s done waiting.

“You’re mine tonight.” The words are dark, hoarse, and before you can process them, she’s crawling over you, pressing you down with the full weight of her body.

The second her bare skin meets yours, a sharp heat floods through you. She’s burning up, her broad shoulders blocking out everything but her, her thigh slipping between yours, pressing against your soaked cunt with unbearable pressure.

She moves against you, slow at first, dragging it out, teasing, making you squirm beneath her. Then, suddenly, her grip on your hips tightens—and she grinds down hard.

“Fuck—Abby—” The sound rips from your throat, raw and desperate.

“That’s it, baby. Give it to me.”

She doesn’t ease up. Her movements are controlled but rough, pushing against you in tight, deliberate rolls that send sparks shooting through your core. She’s fucking you against the bed like she’s got something to prove, like she wants to ruin you completely.

“God, I can feel you fucking shaking.” Her voice is wrecked, her breathing ragged as she keeps up the pace, sweat slicking between you, her body trembling with the effort to not completely lose control.

Her fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you spread wide as she presses harder, moves faster, chasing that unbearable friction between you both.

“I need to see you fall apart,” she pants against your ear, her teeth nipping at your earlobe. “I need you to fucking drench me.”

The heat coils tighter, unbearable, white-hot pleasure pooling low in your stomach. Abby feels it before you do, the way your muscles tense, the way your hips stutter against hers, and she growls, moving harder, faster, pushing you over the edge.

You come hard, clinging to her as a sharp cry tears from your throat, your body tensing, then shaking beneath her.

Abby doesn’t stop. She grinds through it, fucking milking your orgasm until you’re gasping, trembling, completely wrecked beneath her.

And when the aftershocks finally settle, when you’re left boneless and panting against the sheets, Abby presses a rough kiss to your jaw, her breath still hot and uneven.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

And from the way she’s still holding you, still rocking her hips against yours—

You know she means it.

[mommyslittlebird]

A Room of Your Own

Married!WandaNat x Reader

Summary: After getting kicked out of your college dorm, you find yourself living with two older strangers. It was never meant to be anything more than a temporary arrangement born out of necessity, but as the semester continues, something new starts to grow.

CW: Homophobia, Getting Kicked Out, Slow Burn (No sex or romance in this chapter), Age Gap

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: I’m back from the dead, though probably not in the way you wanted or expected. I had to take a (not so) little break from one-shots and smut for the time being for some personal reasons. But I’m still finding ways to write and enjoy myself. Some of you probably have already seen this. It’s been up on AO3 for a while now. But I figured I’d post it here too.

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing any sort of slow burn, so we'll see if I can resist having them all fall into bed together in the first few chapters. I also don't know how to write an introductory chapter without making it boring as shit, so I at least made it short to spare you all. I promise it gets better.

Chapter 1 of A Room of Your Own

You sat, knees curled to your chest, on the curb in front of what used to be your dorm. It was late, a little after midnight, and absolutely pouring rain.

Three days. You had been in the dorms for three days and you had already been kicked out. You’d expect some pushback, going to a religious college and being queer, but nothing like this. Nothing like getting kicked out of your dorm in the middle of the night because you were making your roommates uncomfortable. You’d tried so hard to get them to like you. They seemed sweet. Not your type of people, sure, but you thought the three of you could get along just fine.

As it turns out, they were actually so repulsed by your presence they couldn’t even wait until classes started to kick you to the curb. Literally.

“Hey!” Somebody shouted from the doorway, holding a large umbrella. You turned to see her approaching and shrunk back in on yourself. You didn’t think you could handle anymore ridicule that evening.

When you didn’t respond or turn to face her, she sat down next to you, sure to cover you with the umbrella as well. She spoke softer now. “Hey. I’m sorry for what happened back there.”

You still didn’t speak, but you looked at her now, partially soaked from where she was sitting next to you on the wet concrete. “I’m Yelena.” She reached her hand out for you to shake.

You shook her hand. “Y/N. Nice to meet you.” You recognized her from your dorm floor, though you’d only ever seen her in passing.

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” she smiled softly. “I wish it were under different circumstances.”

You nodded, turning your gaze back to the raining night.

“Do you have anywhere to go? For tonight I mean. I would offer you to stay in my room, but…” she turned back to the door of the building. You both knew you couldn’t go back in there.

You shook your head. You hadn’t even thought where you would stay tonight. You could always stay in your car. It wouldn’t be the first night you’ve slept in the backseat. Still, the sopping wet clothes would surely make for a morning full of rashes and blistered skin.

Yelena sighed, looking at the ground. She was silent for a moment before she came up with an idea. “Let me call my sister. She and her wife have a massive place not so far from here. They’ll have a bedroom or two to spare.”

Before you could form a rebuttal of any sort, Yelena pushed the umbrella into your hands and dashed back inside. You tucked the umbrella between your leg and the crook of your arm, resting your head on your knees.

It wasn’t very long before Yelena was by your side again. “Okay she’s on her way. She’ll be here in about 10 minutes.”

You didn’t look at her, facing intentionally in the other direction. You felt so horrible. You just wanted to curl up and disappear. And now you were going to be picked and taken to the home of some random classmate’s sister? You try to formulate a response, a reason that you will be fine on your own, but there was nothing. It was either this or the back seat of your 1993 Toyota Corolla. Somehow, you bet Yelena wasn’t going to take that as a reasonable explanation as to why she should call off her sister.

“Are you coming with me?” You asked weakly.

She sighed and put her hand on your back. “I wasn’t planning on it, but I will if you really want me to.”

You finally turned to face her. She didn’t look thrilled at the prospect of leaving. She was probably a freshman. It was her first couple days in the dorm too and everything was so new and exciting. The last thing she wanted to do was go back home with her sister.

“No it’s okay,” you responded. The last thing you wanted was to inconvenience someone else tonight, and it’s not like a freshman you hardly knew was going to bring you much solace anyway.

She patted your back. “They’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

Before too much longer, Yelena stood up at the sight of headlights. She waved her arms in an “over here” motion. The car approached Yelena, stopping hard in front of the curb you were sitting on. The tires splashed you in rainwater and mud. Yelena winched, walking back towards you to usher you into the car.

She led you to the passenger door, popping it open and peeking her head in. “This is your girl,” she said, pointing back towards your soaked, mud covered figure. She motioned for you to sit.

You hesitated. The car looked nicer than any you’d ever been in before. The idea of ruining the nice leather seats made you want to shrink further into your ball of shame.

The woman in the driver's seat noticed your hesitation, but didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned with her seat. “Come on in,” she ushered. “Get out of that rain.”

You handed the umbrella back to Yelena, reluctantly taking a seat in the car. Yelena peaked her head back in to say “take care of her,” before closing the door and scurrying back into the dorms.

The woman looked at you, reaching up to pop on the overhead light. The sight of her in the light nearly took your breath away. She looked oddly familiar. Maybe you’d seen her around town. You sharply inhaled as the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen leaned over the console towards you. She frowned. “Oh you poor thing!” She reached out to wipe off your face. You cringed when you saw the mud smear across the sleeve of her jacket. “Let’s go home and get you cleaned up.”

You nodded and she turned the light off before pulling out of the parking lot. You fought the urge to curl up in her passenger seat, fearing further ruining her seats with the dirty bottoms of your shoes. When you didn’t speak, she offered up an introduction of her own. “My name is Natasha. I don’t know what Yelena’s told you, but I’m her sister. My wife and I have a place not so far from here.”

“I’m Y/N” you managed.

“A friend of Yelena’s?” She asked.

You chuckled a little. “I suppose you could say that. We met about 20 minutes ago.”

Natasha chuckled. “Of course. Leave it to Yelena to seek you out after such an injustice.”

You bit the inside of your lip. You wished you had heard the phone conversation so you could gauge just how much she knew.

It was as if Natasha could read your mind when she started next with the details of the phone call. “Yelena told me you got kicked out of the dorm by the other girls. They were uncomfortable because you were gay? I never expected to hear anything like that happening in 2024, but I guess I stand corrected.”

Well, that was one way of telling the story. At least Yelena had left out the peeping Tom allegations that got you chased off the floor by everyone who had to share a bathroom with you. They weren’t true, of course, but the fact that you’d made people so uncomfortable they were willing to name you a pervert without second thought made your skin crawl.

After a short, largely silent car ride, Natasha pulled the car into a garage. You hadn’t gotten a good look at the house, both because of the dark and getting lost in your own thoughts, but even by the state of the garage you could tell it was nice.

Natasha got out of the car, unlocking the door and leading you into the kitchen. You took your shoes off by the door, then decided to take your socks off too to avoid tracking muddy water through the house. The woman took your hand and guided you to the stairwell, then to a bathroom. She turned on the lights and opened up a cabinet, pulling out fresh towels and washcloths.

“I’ll get you some fresh clothes and sheets. The bedroom is through here.” She opened a door that revealed a sizable bedroom connected to the bathroom. You could hardly believe this wasn’t the master suite she’d led you too.

She turned to face you, exhaling as she once again took in your disheveled state. She picked some errant pebbles from your tangled hair and wiped it out of your face. “Now,” she started, “do you need anything else before I let you get cleaned up and off to bed?”

You shook your head. “No. You’ve done enough already. Thank you, Miss Natasha, for letting me stay here. It means a lot. Truly.”

“Of course.” She smiled. You didn’t notice the blush that crept onto her face at the formality. She swiped away the hair that had fallen in front of your eyes again. “We wouldn’t want a sweet girl like you sleeping out in the rain.” She booped the tip of your nose. “Now promise you’ll wake me or Wanda up if you need anything at all. We’re just in the room across the hall. Can’t miss it, it’s the only door on that side.”

You nodded slowly. There was no way in hell you were going to wake her or Wanda, who you assumed was her wife, for any reason. But you nodded anyway.

She smiled and rubbed your chin. “Good girl. Now go get cleaned up and try to get some rest.”

As she set off to her room, you hoped the mud had covered how pink your cheeks had gotten. You headed to the shower, sliding open the glass door and turning on the water. You decided to hop in with your clothes at first, hoping to get enough of the mud off that you could wear them again tomorrow. Then you wrang the clothes out and threw them over the door to dry. You took your time in the shower, letting the hot water warm you up from the cold rain. By the time you were finally clean, you grabbed the fresh towel Natasha had left for you.

Your clothes were, obviously, still soaked save for your underwear. You were thankful for the little time it had taken the thin silky material to dry. You put them back on and wrapped yourself in a towel before entering into the bedroom.

There was a maroon hoodie at the end of the bed. It had been there since Natasha first showed you the room, so it clearly wasn’t laid out for you. However, in lieu of other clothes, you decided the owner probably wouldn’t mind if you borrowed it for the night. You slipped the soft fabric over your head. It was much too big for you, going down to almost your mid thighs while the sleeves dangled over your hands. But it was, quite possibly, the softest material that you’d ever felt. It felt simultaneously brand new and freshly washed.

You crawled up into the queen sized bed, slipping under the covers. You held the fabric of the hoodie close to your face. It smelled nothing like the musky bergamot of Natasha, which had been equally as entrancing in its own way. This was distinctly different. It smelled soft and comforting like lying in a meadow on a spring day. The comforting smell and warmth, along with your own exhaustion, quickly had you asleep.

[starpoweredv1b]

With finding out you do like JJK, I gift you this drabble with Nanami.

Nanami isn't a dad. He is still single, and his life is still all about punching that time card. That is until one day, when he is getting off, a colleague begs him for a favor.

"My daughter normally takes the train home, but with all those reports of chikan reports lately, do you think you could possibly take her home?"

She is lucky that Nanami is such a stand-up guy and agrees. Taking time out of his valuble off time, he drives to the nearby college to wait. Still in his suit and tie, he is leaned against the side of his expensive car, always the gentleman he plans to open the door. He gets appreciative looks from girls passing by, but he has no interest in any of them. 'To young' he thinks to himself, that is until he sees his little soon to be passanger. Bright eyes look around the parking lot on the phone with someone, stretching up on tiptoes to try to get a better vantage. Silly little girl, don't you know that isn't how seeing better at a distance works? When she finally catches sight of him, she hangs up the phone and makes her way over to him with a bright smile to match those bright eyes.

"Mr. Nanami?" she asks once she gets close enough to be heard, sweet voice filling his brain like cotton candy and she was just so tiny as she stood in front of him. She would be easy to pick up. Hell, he could do it with one arm if she didn't squirm. Maybe even if she did. "Yes. Your mother sent me to take you home." he says. His voice was full of authority, but still polite. He put his hand out for her bag, but instead, she placed her own small hand in his mistaking it for a handshake instead. Everything about her was tiny. No wonder her mother was worried and asked him to go get her daughter. He would never do anything to her against her will.

In the car, he was now trapped with her smell, too, trying to make idle conversation, but it was hard when she smelt exactly like a vanilla cupcake. It's not the cheap perfume type either. "I'm going to school to be a baker." she proudly tells him the smile on her face makes him want to ruin it with his cock down her throat, but he waits. Ever the gentleman that he is. He doesn't even get home before he is fisting his cock roughly to the scent of her still in his car and texting her mother that he would be more than happy to keep picking up her daughter and making sure she got home safe, free of charge of course.

Over the weeks, he slowly starts getting his little passenger used to his touch. A hand on her back as he guided her to the car. Pushing her hair out of her pretty face when she looks up at him. No, he didn't just trail his fingertips down her face. Everything is slow and methodical until she greets him with a hug after a bad day. Tests and her partner burnt the confections they were working on. She huffed and crossed her little arms as her adorably plump and glossed lips pouted. God did he want those lips around his thumb as he absolutely wrecked her. She wouldn't have to have bad days like this if she dropped out of college and moved in with him. She could make him cute little deserts and breads and he could stuff her tiny cunt full of his hot loads every day. It would be absolutely perfect.

She didn't notice his hand on her thigh. She didn't notice it slipped up and up until he was squeezing the fat of her thigh. She didn't say anything when they ended up at his apartment instead of her home, but she did say, "Please." when she ended up across his lap in his secluded parking spot, making a mess all over the front of his pants

Turns out, she was playing the game as much as he was.

-🐱

🐱 anon singlehandedly feeding this account i swear!!! thank you for the gift it made me (s)cream trust.

making reader into his little housewife slowly but surely, god it definitely drives him crazy just imagining her all rounded and glowing with their kid one day, wearing an apron as she bakes for him. thinking about it would literally lead to him going extra deep if he's fucking her. whispering how good she's doing for him as he spears her open to her cervix. circling her clit with callous experienced fingers as he thrusts deep.

he's also the type to give forehead kisses as he cums deep inside. he'll have his hands on the backs of her thighs, her feet on the broad of his shoulders, and cock head kissing the curve of her cervix as he holds her in a mating press. he'll kiss her forehead so sweetly as he bullies her loaded cunt oh my god i need this man so so bad.

also this inspired me to one day write about burnt out salaryman nanami as a chikan. thank you 🐱 anon i am in love with your asks.