#IF YOU'RE NOT MENTIONED HERE I PROBABLY JUST FORGOT

[lanadelspray02]

EVERYTHING I FORGOT, I STILL FELT

paige x azzi

warning: mentions of car crash, memory loss

hey guys sorry its not one of the series i just had this idea stuck in my head. i hope you all like it. let me know :) also this is my first one shot.

crossposted ao3 here

masterlist here

wc: 8722

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Paige Bueckers paced slowly along the baseline, one sneaker squeaking faintly against the polished hardwood floor of the UConn practice gym. The rhythmic dribble of basketballs echoed distantly, mingling with the sharp squeals of sneakers and the laughter of her teammates warming up at the opposite end of the court. Her eyes flicked to the clock above the hoop. Azzi was late. It tugged at something restless inside her, a tension she couldn’t shake.

She slid her phone out of her pocket for the third time in five minutes. No texts. No calls. Not even a meme sent to make her laugh. Paige pressed her lips together, trying to ignore the fluttering sensation that wouldn’t quite settle in her chest. It had been nearly three weeks since they’d kissed in the dimly lit hallway outside Azzi’s dorm room, quiet giggles muffled against palms pressed shyly to mouths, breath mingling as whispers of promises tangled between them. Since then, everything had changed, and nothing had.

She still saw Azzi every day. Still texted her, sat next to her at team meetings, and nudged her knee under lunch tables. Still leaned into the ease of their friendship. But under that ease now lived something electric. Something delicate. Something that felt like stepping off the edge of something vast every time Azzi looked at her, like she wanted to kiss her again.

Paige had started to think it was almost easy. They’d always been inseparable. Best friends first. Girlfriend's second, Paige thought with a silent thrill that curled warmly through her chest. But standing alone on the baseline, anxiety prickling under her skin, she realised easy was a fantasy. Caring this much could never be easy.

She looked down at her phone again and opened their messages—not to text, just to look. The last thing Azzi had sent her was a blurry photo of her half-asleep, face buried in her pillow, the caption reading, Come cuddle or I’m suing. Paige had screenshotted it. Twice.

She wasn’t even mad that Azzi was late. She just wanted to know she was okay. She just wanted to hear her voice. Paige’s thumb hovered over the call button.

"Yo, Paige," Nika’s voice echoed from mid-court, ball balanced on her hip as she squinted across the gym. "Your girl forget about practice?"

Paige’s heart stuttered, a brief flare of panic rising in her chest before she masked it with an eye roll and a casual shrug, laughing it off like always. "She’s probably at Starbucks, forgetting the time," she called back, waving dismissively.

"That girl lives at Starbucks," Caroline chimed in from the sidelines. "I'm not convinced she actually sleeps."

Paige smiled faintly, but her fingers were already curling tighter around her phone. She told herself not to be dramatic. Azzi was probably fine. She was probably walking in with that sheepish grin in three minutes. Maybe two.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, lighting up with Azzi’s name. Paige felt the smile tugging at her lips before she’d even unlocked the screen. It was a voice message, short but sweet.

Paige pressed it quickly to her ear, turning away from prying eyes.

"Okay, listen," Azzi’s voice was warm, playful, just for her. "Tell your girlfriend to pick up snacks because I forgot again. Wait—shit, you're my girlfriend. Okay, never mind, I’ll get snacks. Love you, dummy."

Paige laughed softly, heart swelling. "Dummy," she whispered, her voice carrying more affection than mockery. She replayed the message once more, savouring the way Azzi’s voice softened on love you, that instinctive, breathless little laugh she’d made after realising what she said. Like it was normal now. Like it wasn’t still blowing Paige’s heart wide open every single time.

She thought about texting back, something cheeky, something flirty, but before she could even open her keyboard, her phone rang again.

Azzi’s name flashed urgently once more, but the voice that filled Paige’s ear wasn’t Azzi’s.

"Paige," Katie Fudd’s voice shook slightly, and Paige froze. "There’s been an accident. Azzi’s okay, but she’s at the hospital. I thought you should know."

The gym around her fell away. All the sound collapsed into white noise, dull and underwater. Her heart was suddenly loud in her ears, a pounding drum drowning out everything else. She didn’t remember dropping her phone. Didn’t remember grabbing her keys. Only the dull slam of the doors as she pushed out into the hallway, legs moving on instinct, breath hitching painfully in her chest, heart aching with dread.

--------------------

The drive to the hospital was a blur. Paige barely registered traffic lights or the route she took, only the steady shaking in her hands, the way her fingers kept clenching the wheel too tightly, like if she held on hard enough, she could hold the world still, too. Her brain kept flashing through half-finished thoughts: Did Azzi cry? Was she alone? Did she call for her?

She almost ran through the sliding glass doors, sneakers squeaking wildly against the tile floor of the emergency wing. Her breath caught in her throat as she scanned the waiting area, eyes darting frantically until she spotted Katie standing near a bank of vending machines, arms folded tightly across her chest.

"Paige," Katie said, her voice hoarse with worry. She crossed the space in three strides and pulled her into a hug.

Paige barely returned it, too frozen to do much more than nod and ask, "Is she okay?"

Katie’s eyes were tight, rimmed red. "She’s awake. She has a mild concussion. There’s some memory loss, short-term. They said it’s temporary."

Paige felt her legs threaten to give out beneath her.

"She doesn’t remember…?"

"Not everything. There are gaps. But she asked for you." Katie’s voice gentled, her hand brushing Paige’s arm. "She remembers you. Just… not everything."

That shouldn’t have hurt. But it did.

Paige nodded numbly and followed Katie through the corridor, the fluorescent lights flickering slightly overhead. Every step made her stomach churn worse. By the time they reached Azzi’s door, Paige was trembling.

"You can go in," Katie murmured. "Take your time."

Paige hesitated, her hand hovering just shy of the handle. Then she pushed it open.

--------------------

Azzi was propped up in bed, eyes half-closed, a white bandage over her left temple. Her hair was mussed and her expression dazed, but when she heard the door creak, she turned her head slowly.

"Hey," she murmured hoarsely, lips curling into a weak smile. "You look terrible."

Paige choked on a laugh, blinking quickly. "That’s my line, Az."

Azzi squinted at her, like she was trying to place a face she mostly recognised but couldn’t quite remember all the layers of. Paige’s heart twisted.

"Did I miss practice again?" Azzi asked, blinking slowly.

"Yeah, but I’ll forgive you this time."

Azzi gave a faint smile, then her brow furrowed. "Is it weird that I feel like I forgot something important? Like...really important?"

Paige sat down beside the bed, resting her hands on the edge to keep them from shaking. "It’ll come back. Just give it time."

Azzi sighed and settled back against the pillows. Her eyes fluttered shut again. "You’re always here, Paige. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Paige’s breath caught, her throat tightening with emotion. She reached out and gently brushed her fingers against Azzi’s, whispering softly, "You won’t ever have to find out."

And even though Azzi’s memory was fractured and uncertain, Paige knew this one thing with absolute clarity: She would hold on to every moment they’d had, every kiss, every secret smile, every whisper in the dark, because even if Azzi didn’t remember, Paige would remember enough for both of them.

--------------------

Paige sat quietly beside Azzi’s hospital bed, the lights in the room dimmed to a low, warm glow. Outside, the sky had shifted from dusky pink to a deep, ink-like blue, the city blurred behind tall windows. Machines hummed softly in the background, beeping in slow intervals. Her hand rested gently against Azzi’s, fingertips brushing just enough to feel the rise and fall of her pulse, grounding herself in the rhythm.

Azzi slept soundly now, her body still under the haze of painkillers and exhaustion, but even in sleep her face twitched with slight confusion. Paige studied her with aching reverence, memorizing every detail—the soft flutter of her lashes, the wrinkle in her brow, the scar on her knee that Paige had kissed more times than she could count.

This room was too sterile, too quiet. It made Paige feel like the version of them she loved most was vanishing into the bleached-white walls. She wanted to reach inside herself and pull every memory out, hand them to Azzi like pressed flowers and say, This is where you kissed me the first time. This is where you held my hand before I could admit I needed it. This is what we were, and are, and could be again.

But instead, she just held her hand.

The door creaked softly behind her, and Paige turned to find Katie standing in the doorway, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her eyes were tired, but kind.

“Can we talk?” she asked gently, gesturing toward the hallway.

Paige nodded and stood, careful not to wake Azzi. She gave her hand one last squeeze before quietly following Katie outside.

The hallway was quiet, except for the low murmur of distant voices and the shuffle of nurses' shoes on linoleum. Katie leaned against the wall, arms folded, and looked at Paige for a long moment.

“How’s she doing?” she asked, voice low.

Paige shrugged, her hands finding the hem of her hoodie. “Sleeping. She’s...confused. But calm.”

Katie nodded slowly. “The doctors said the memory loss is from the concussion. They’re optimistic it’ll fade. But... it might not come back all at once.”

Paige’s throat tightened. “She doesn’t remember anything about us.”

Katie’s expression softened. “She remembers you. She asked for you. But yeah—I figured things had changed between you two lately.”

Paige looked up sharply, eyes wide. “Did she... tell you?”

“No,” Katie said gently, a small smile on her lips. “I’m her mother. I see things. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. And the way you look at her.”

Paige let out a shaky breath, blinking hard. “We were... together. Not officially. Not publicly. But we were figuring it out. And now she looks at me like I’m just her friend again.”

Katie stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on Paige’s arm. “She’ll remember. Or maybe she’ll fall again. Love doesn’t just disappear because memory does.”

Paige’s eyes brimmed with tears she didn’t want to shed. “But what if she doesn’t? What if I’m just waiting around for something that’s never coming back?”

Katie gave her a moment, letting the silence settle between them before speaking. “Then you show up anyway. Like you always have. Let her come to it in her own time.”

Paige nodded, her jaw tight. “I just... I don’t want to push her. Or confuse her.”

“You won’t,” Katie said softly. “Just be there. You’re already doing that better than anyone else could.”

Paige pressed her lips together and nodded again. “Thanks. For calling me.”

Katie smiled. “I knew you’d come. I didn’t even think twice.”

When Paige returned to the room, Azzi was still sleeping, her hand curled loosely against the blanket. Paige resumed her seat and leaned forward, resting her arms against the edge of the bed, her chin tucked between them as she watched Azzi sleep.

She didn’t realise how tired she was until her eyelids started to droop. The emotional weight of the day settled in her bones, dragging her lower into the chair until she was half-slumped against the mattress, her hand still tucked close to Azzi’s.

Somewhere in the early hours of morning, Azzi stirred.

Paige blinked awake, rubbing her eyes, only to find Azzi watching her quietly, head turned toward her on the pillow.

“Hey,” Azzi said softly, voice hoarse but more alert.

Paige sat up straighter, blinking rapidly. “Hey yourself.”

Azzi offered a small, tired smile. “You stayed all night?”

Paige nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Didn’t want to leave.”

“You always take care of me,” Azzi murmured, her gaze lingering on Paige’s face like she was seeing something she didn’t fully recognise, but couldn’t look away from either. “You’re too good to me.”

Paige’s heart twisted. She offered a soft smile. “You’re worth it.”

Azzi’s hand reached out, fingertips brushing Paige’s gently. There was warmth there, familiarity, even if the memory behind it had been stripped away.

“Thank you,” Azzi whispered, sincerity shining in her eyes.

“You never have to thank me,” Paige replied, voice thick with the emotion she was barely holding back.

Azzi’s eyelids drooped again, the meds pulling her back under, but Paige sat there long after, unmoving, her heart cracking quietly beneath the surface.

She would stay. She would wait. Even if Azzi never remembered.

--------------------

Azzi came home two days after the accident. The doctors were cautious but optimistic, prescribing rest, light movement, and time. Time was the part no one could define. And time was what Paige feared most.

Katie insisted on staying close, setting up a room in their Airbnb for Azzi so she could rest without distraction. Paige offered to help, and no one had the heart or the nerve to tell her no.

She arrived every morning just after sunrise, coffee in hand, and left only when Azzi fell asleep, sometimes hours after dark. It became a quiet ritual neither of them questioned. Azzi would look up from her blanket, hair sticking out in every direction, and smile sleepily like she’d been waiting for Paige all night. Paige would hand over the coffee without a word, trying not to let her hands shake when their fingers brushed.

"Is this from that place on Chapel Street?" Azzi asked one morning, cradling the cup like it was sacred.

"Obviously," Paige replied, settling onto the couch beside her. "I wouldn’t disrespect you with anything less."

Azzi grinned. "You know my order?"

Paige nodded, casually. Too casual. "You’ve ordered the same thing since freshman year."

Azzi frowned slightly, like that fact belonged to someone else. "I guess I always was loyal."

"You still are," Paige said, softer than she meant to.

That night, Paige stayed late. They sat in the living room watching an old movie, Azzi curled under a blanket with her legs stretched out across Paige’s lap. At some point, she fell asleep like that, head tipped back, breathing slowly. Paige didn’t move. Her hand rested carefully on Azzi’s shin, thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles against the flannel fabric of her pyjama pants.

Katie walked in at one point, pausing in the doorway. Paige expected her to say something, maybe suggest she go home, get some rest but instead, Katie smiled gently and mouthed, Thank you.

Paige nodded silently, afraid that if she spoke, the fragile stillness of the moment would break.

--------------------

The next morning, Azzi looked better. The swelling around her temple had gone down, and the colour in her cheeks was coming back. She stood at the kitchen counter, frowning at the toaster, half a bagel in her hand.

"Why won’t this thing work?" she muttered.

"You didn’t plug it in," Paige said as she walked in, lifting an eyebrow.

Azzi blinked down at the cord. "Oh."

Paige reached around her to plug it in. Their shoulders touched. Azzi didn’t step back. Paige tried not to think about how natural it felt.

"You okay?" she asked.

Azzi gave her a wry smile. "You keep asking me that."

Paige shrugged, biting her lip. "You keep not answering."

Azzi turned, leaning back against the counter, her eyes scanning Paige’s face like she was trying to match it to something inside her. "I don’t know what to say. I feel like myself, but… not exactly. I keep thinking I’ll wake up and remember everything, and I won’t have to keep asking what day it is or who texted me last week or what I promised I’d do."

Paige nodded, stepping beside her. "You don’t have to rush it. No one’s going anywhere."

Azzi tilted her head slightly. "Not even you?"

Paige’s breath caught. She shook her head. "Especially not me."

Azzi studied her for a long moment, then looked down at her feet. "Good. I don’t want you to."

--------------------

Later that week, Paige brought over a folder of class notes and readings Azzi had missed. They sat cross-legged on the bed, laptops open, a shared bowl of strawberries and nutella between them.

"You really took notes in psych?" Azzi said, impressed. "You never take notes."

Paige smirked. "I did when I knew you’d need them."

Azzi stared at her, a quiet flush rising on her cheeks. "You’re kinda amazing, you know that?"

Paige’s smile faltered for a second. "You’ve told me before."

Azzi blinked, puzzled. "I did?"

"Yeah," Paige said, voice almost inaudible. "A lot, actually."

Azzi didn’t press. She reached into the bowl for another strawberry, dipping it in Nutella before leaning her shoulder lightly against Paige’s. "Well, I’m saying it again."

--------------------

Days blurred into a new rhythm—Azzi slept late, Paige brought breakfast. Azzi would curl up in a hoodie a couple of sizes too big (usually Paige’s), and they’d sit together on the couch or floor, books open but barely read, lost in half-conversations about nothing.

It felt easy. Familiar. Dangerous.

Paige found herself watching Azzi when she laughed too loud at dumb TikToks, when she hummed along to a playlist she didn’t consciously remember making, when she bit her lip while focusing. None of it had changed. Azzi didn’t know their history, but her body remembered. Her smile remembered. The way she leaned into Paige like it was instinct remembered.

And Paige let her.

--------------------

One afternoon, Paige walked in to find Azzi standing in the hallway, staring at a photo collage her mum had given her.

There were dozens of pictures—team photos, snapshots from parties, postgame selfies, sleepy mornings in dorms but one in the corner showed them together in a way nothing else did. It wasn’t posed. It wasn’t silly. It was Azzi sitting on the floor, back against Paige’s chest, both of them laughing, Paige’s chin resting on Azzi’s shoulder like it belonged there. Which, of course, it did.

Azzi turned when she heard the door click shut. Her brow was furrowed.

"Why didn’t anyone tell me about this one?"

Paige stepped closer. "It’s just a photo."

Azzi looked back at it, quiet for a beat. "It doesn’t look like just a photo."

Paige’s throat tightened. She opened her mouth, but no words came.

Azzi didn’t push. She just stared a moment longer, then peeled the photo from the collage and held it carefully in her hands. "I think this one’s my favorite," she said softly.

And Paige, heart aching, didn’t say a word.

--------------------

Azzi hadn’t been able to focus all day. She’d tried reading, tried stretching, even tried calling her brother just to pass the time, but nothing held. Everything buzzed quietly in the background, dull and unsatisfying. She stared at her phone, thumb hovering over Paige’s name in her messages. Then she typed without thinking: movie?

Paige replied instantly. Omw. Gimme ten.

Ten minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door.

Azzi opened it to find Paige balancing two bottles of lemonade under one arm and a bag of peanut M&M’s in her hand. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she wore that old, oversized UConn hoodie Azzi loved—the one that had a tiny tear near the collar and sleeves permanently pushed up. She looked so familiar it made Azzi’s chest ache in a way she couldn’t explain.

“You sure this is a movie night and not a sugar coma setup?” Paige teased, holding out the snacks.

Azzi stepped back to let her in, smiling. “I’m concussed, not dead.”

Paige laughed as she dropped onto the couch and made herself comfortable, stretching her long legs across the cushions and tossing the candy onto the coffee table. Azzi plopped beside her, tucking one leg under the other and reaching for the remote.

They scrolled aimlessly for a while, neither one really caring what they chose. Eventually, they settled on something light—a rom-com Azzi only vaguely remembered. Paige made a joke about cliche dialogue within the first ten minutes, and Azzi laughed harder than she had all week.

About halfway through the movie, Azzi pulled a blanket off the armrest and draped it over them both without asking. Her legs stretched out, and somewhere between banter and silence, they tangled slightly with Paige’s. She didn’t bother pulling away.

Paige didn’t either.

The blanket warmed the space between them, but Azzi could feel Paige’s body heat more distinctly than anything else. The side of her thigh, the brush of her knee, the subtle tension in Paige’s shoulder that hadn't been there an hour ago.

She tried to focus on the screen, but it was no use.

She was too aware.

Aware of how Paige shifted closer every time she laughed. How Paige bit her bottom lip when she was trying not to smile too hard. How Paige's fingers grazed the hem of her own hoodie—Azzi’s, technically and rubbed the fabric like it held secrets.

Azzi’s heart beat a little faster.

She didn’t understand why, not entirely. But it wasn’t new. Not really.

Not in how natural it felt to lean her head toward Paige’s shoulder when her body started to sink lower into the couch. Not in how she didn’t flinch when their knees pressed together.

There was a comfort in it. An ache, too, like she was standing in the middle of something beautiful and important that she should know how to name.

A particularly cheesy line in the movie made both of them snort-laugh at the same time, and Paige reached for the popcorn in the bowl balanced on Azzi’s lap. Their hands brushed, palm against palm, fingers accidentally tangling for half a second too long.

Azzi’s breath caught.

So did Paige’s.

Neither of them moved.

The moment stretched, a crackle of quiet tension threading between them, and Azzi felt the strange urge to lean forward. To close the distance. To see what it would feel like to touch Paige on purpose.

But she didn’t. She pulled her hand back slowly, her fingers trembling faintly. “Sorry,” she said, voice quiet.

“Don’t be,” Paige replied, eyes still on her hand, her voice even quieter.

Azzi wanted to ask what are we doing, but she didn’t. Instead, she shifted slightly, pretending to focus back on the screen, even though the words had blurred into background noise.

A few minutes passed. Paige stood to grab drinks.

Azzi watched her go, gaze trailing across Paige’s frame in that hoodie and those familiar grey sweats, the way loose strands of her bun swung against her back as she moved. She watched without thinking, without meaning to stare, but she didn’t look away either.

It was like muscle memory. Like her heart remembered something her mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

When Paige returned, Azzi forced herself to glance back at the screen, but the weight of what almost happened lingered.

--------------------

Later That Night

The credits had rolled. The lights stayed dim. Paige made no move to leave, and Azzi didn’t want her to.

They were still curled under the blanket, the air between them softer now. Slower.

“I don’t remember that movie at all,” Azzi murmured, breaking the silence. “But I think I’ve seen it before.”

Paige looked over. “You have. You made me watch it freshman year during finals week. Said it helped you not panic.”

Azzi blinked. “Really?”

Paige nodded, a tiny smile playing at her lips. “You fell asleep twenty minutes in. I stayed up and finished it alone.”

Azzi frowned. “That sounds fake.”

“It’s not,” Paige said, her smile deepening. “You drooled on my hoodie.”

Azzi laughed, embarrassed but delighted. “Well. Sorry for being disgusting.”

“You’re not,” Paige said easily. “It was kinda cute.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them, and Azzi stilled. She looked at Paige carefully, something shifting behind her eyes.

“You always talk to me like this,” Azzi said slowly, “like I mean something more than just... a friend.”

Paige’s mouth parted slightly, but she said nothing.

Azzi swallowed. “Did I? Before all this—did I ever say anything to you that would explain why this feels so—”

She stopped herself.

So much.

Paige’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You didn’t need to.”

Azzi looked down at her hands. “I’m not sure what I’m feeling, but I know it’s not nothing.”

Paige let the silence settle before answering.

“I know,” she said softly. “It never was.”

They didn’t talk much after that. Paige leaned back against the couch armrest, and Azzi slowly, deliberately, let her head drop gently onto Paige’s shoulder. Paige didn’t move. She just exhaled slowly, like maybe she’d been holding her breath for weeks.

Azzi fell asleep like that, curled beneath the blanket, Paige’s shoulder beneath her cheek, their hands barely touching.

And when she woke up hours later, Paige was still there—wide awake, unmoving, her gaze fixed somewhere distant, but her hand now resting lightly over Azzi’s.

--------------------

Azzi couldn’t sleep.

It was just after six in the morning, and the sky outside her bedroom window was still the colour of slate, the first hints of dawn barely bleeding into the horizon. The ceiling above her was too still. The sheets were too warm. Her thoughts buzzed restlessly, like they were reaching for something just out of frame.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and stared at the lock screen. No new messages. Nothing missed.

But the silence wasn’t what made her chest ache. It was the weight of all the missing pieces. The blank spaces in her head. The sense that she’d left a version of herself behind somewhere and no one had told her how to get back to it.

She didn’t want to wake her mum. Didn’t want to sit in bed another hour trying to calm the unease curling in her stomach. So she opened her messages and tapped Paige’s name.

Azzi: u awake?

The three dots appeared before she’d even locked her phone again.

Paige: always. what’s wrong?

Azzi hesitated, then typed: coffee walk?

Paige’s reply came almost immediately.

Paige: 10 mins. hoodie weather.

Azzi smiled to herself. Ten minutes later, when she opened the door, Paige was already there.

She was wearing sweatpants and a grey hoodie Azzi was almost certain used to belong to her. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she held out a steaming to-go cup with both hands like it was an offering.

“Hi,” Paige said softly, almost shy.

“Hi,” Azzi echoed, letting the warmth of the coffee sink into her hands.

They started walking without saying much, sneakers crunching lightly on the sidewalk as they made their way across campus. The buildings still looked half-asleep, bathed in pale orange from the first light of the sun. There was a chill in the air that tugged at their sleeves and brought a faint pink to Paige’s nose.

Azzi looked over at her and realised, for the first time, that she felt better. Not fixed. Not whole. But better.

“How long have we been doing this?” Azzi asked suddenly.

“Doing what?” Paige glanced sideways at her, brow lifted.

Azzi gestured vaguely between them. “This. Walking around at ungodly hours. You knowing my coffee order. Showing up without even asking what I meant.”

Paige gave a soft laugh. “Since freshman year, I think.”

Azzi nodded slowly, letting the information settle. “Feels like longer.”

Paige didn’t answer. She just sipped her drink and kept walking, letting the silence be easy.

They reached the little green space behind the library and sat on the stone ledge beneath the old tree where students usually studied in spring. The leaves above them were starting to turn, early red and gold flickering in the breeze.

Azzi exhaled slowly. “I hate this.”

Paige turned toward her. “Hate what?”

“Not remembering. Feeling like I’m... watching my life instead of living it. Like everyone’s waiting for me to be someone I don’t feel like anymore.”

“You’re still you,” Paige said gently.

Azzi looked down at her shoes. “Am I? Because I feel like a stranger to myself. Like I’m trying to be the version of me everyone expects, but I don’t know what that version even is.”

Paige leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. Her voice was soft but steady. “You’re not a stranger to me.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the conviction in her tone.

“You’re still the same girl who drinks her iced coffee way too fast and complains about the brain freeze for ten minutes,” Paige continued. “You still mumble song lyrics when you don’t know the words, and you still get too competitive during board games.”

Azzi smiled, just barely.

“And you still talk with your hands when you get excited, and scrunch your nose when something’s too salty, and hum under your breath when you’re trying to focus.”

Azzi looked at her, quiet for a long time. “You really notice all that?”

Paige didn’t look away. “I’ve always noticed you.”

Something shifted in Azzi’s chest. Something slow and warm and terrifying. She felt the air around her change, just subtly, but enough that her breath caught.

“Do you think,” she said, voice smaller now, “people can forget things in their mind but still... feel them in their body? Like something important happened, but your heart remembers even if your brain doesn’t?”

Paige’s face softened, the corners of her mouth tugging just slightly.

“I think,” she said quietly, “some things stay even when everything else fades.”

Azzi looked away, her heart beating loudly in her ears.

“When I’m around you,” she said, “I feel like... more me. I don’t know how to explain it. I feel safer. Calmer. Like I’m not completely broken.”

“You’re not broken,” Paige said immediately. “You’re healing.”

Azzi blinked fast, the sudden sting behind her eyes taking her by surprise.

She laughed once, watery. “That’s the kindest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”

“I mean it,” Paige whispered.

They sat there for a long time, quiet and still beneath the early morning sky.

Eventually, Azzi shifted slightly, her shoulder brushing Paige’s. She didn’t pull away. Paige didn’t either.

Their hands rested close on the ledge, just inches apart. Azzi glanced down at them, then up at Paige’s profile, her ponytail catching the light like honey in the sun.

“I feel like I’ve been here before,” Azzi murmured.

Paige turned to her slowly. “You have.”

Azzi looked at her for a long time, eyes searching.

But she didn’t ask.

And Paige didn’t tell.

--------------------

Azzi was cleared for light shooting.

That’s what the doctors called it, “light shooting”, like it wasn’t the first real piece of herself she’d been given back in weeks. Paige was the first person she texted.

Azzi: gym w me?

Paige: name a time and I’m there

So now they were alone in the practice gym, the lights soft overhead, the echo bouncing off the walls in familiar patterns. Azzi stood at the free-throw line with a ball in her hands, forehead creased in concentration.

“God,” she muttered, “this already feels weird.”

“It’s been like ten days,” Paige pointed out gently, standing near the baseline with her hands in her pockets.

“Feels like ten years.”

Azzi took a deep breath, then bent her knees and shot.

The ball clunked off the back iron, ricocheted awkwardly off the rim, and bounced out to the right.

Azzi groaned. “Cool. I forgot how to play basketball. That’s awesome.”

“You’re literally recovering from a head injury,” Paige said, jogging after the ball. “Calm your ego.”

“I don’t have an ego,” Azzi muttered.

Paige tossed the ball back, arching a brow. “That’s hilarious.”

Azzi couldn’t help it—she smiled.

They ran slow drills for a while. Azzi was cautious, hesitant on her feet, favouring the side with the fading bruise on her temple. Paige kept a respectful distance, never pushing, never instructing. She just passed, retrieved rebounds, and offered quiet encouragement that Azzi pretended not to need.

But she felt it. Every time.

After ten minutes, Azzi wiped her forehead with her sleeve and let the ball bounce away, hands on her hips. “Okay,” she said, breathless. “I’m officially garbage now.”

Paige grinned. “You hit like seven shots in a row.”

“I used to hit ten.”

“You also used to sleep through morning lift and call that mental training.”

Azzi snorted. “Still valid.”

Paige walked over and nudged her shoulder with her own. “You’re doing fine, Az. Seriously.”

Azzi turned to her, eyes searching. “I hate that my body knows what to do, but my head keeps second-guessing everything.”

“You just need reps,” Paige said. “Your body remembers because it’s yours. It hasn’t forgotten you.”

Azzi looked down, letting the words sink in.

And maybe it wasn’t just her body that remembered. Maybe it was the way she felt when Paige stood close like this. The calm. The charge. The strange hum beneath her skin that only existed around her.

“Can we try footwork?” she asked suddenly, surprising herself.

Paige blinked. “Footwork? Like, agility ladders?”

“No—like closeout stuff. Slides. Balance drills.”

“You sure?”

Azzi nodded, determined. “I need to try.”

Paige retrieved two cones from the sideline and set them up at the elbows. Azzi stepped to the top of the key, knees bent, arms slightly raised.

“Okay,” Paige said, crouching across from her, holding the ball like bait. “When I jab, you slide. Small steps, low base.”

Azzi nodded, eyes narrowing.

Paige faked left. Azzi slid right.

Paige jabbed right. Azzi recovered.

It was clumsy at first, too careful, too measured. But Azzi’s instincts kicked in, movements getting quicker, smoother, more confident.

Then Paige faked high and stepped forward.

Azzi reacted too fast; her foot caught slightly on the slick floor, and her balance tipped. She felt the slip coming but couldn’t stop it in time.

She pitched forward, breath catching and Paige was there.

Strong hands caught her waist, arms steadying her before she hit the ground. Azzi gasped, startled, her face just inches from Paige’s chest, her hands instinctively grabbing her hoodie to stay upright.

Paige didn’t let go. Didn’t say anything.

They stood like that for a beat too long.

Azzi could feel the press of Paige’s fingers against her ribs, the firm grip just above her hipbones. Her own hands clung tightly to the front of Paige’s sweatshirt. Their faces were close enough for Azzi to see the darker flecks in Paige’s blue eyes. Her hair rested against Azzi’s shoulder.

“You good?” Paige asked softly, her breath warm against Azzi’s forehead.

Azzi didn’t answer right away. Her heart was thudding wildly, not just from the near-fall, but from the way Paige had caught her like it was second nature. Like it wasn’t even a question.

“You always catch me,” she whispered.

Paige’s arms loosened slowly, reluctantly. “Always will.”

Azzi stepped back gently, face flushed, breath still uneven. She brushed her hands over her thighs like it would hide the way they trembled.

“Sorry,” she muttered, eyes flicking down.

“Don’t be,” Paige said, her voice quiet. “It happens.”

But Azzi wasn’t sure she was talking about the stumble anymore.

They ran one more slow drill—Azzi insisting, Paige pretending not to notice her hands shaking—then called it. Azzi grabbed her water bottle and sat on the edge of the court, legs stretched out, wiping sweat from her brow.

“Thanks for coming,” she said as Paige sat beside her.

“I’d come every day if you let me.”

Azzi looked at her, startled.

Paige didn’t take it back.

Azzi smiled faintly, then turned her eyes toward the far basket, watching a lone freshman practising threes on the other end.

“You feel like home,” Azzi said suddenly, her voice small.

Paige turned her head slowly.

Azzi kept her eyes forward. “I don’t know why I said that. It just… came out.”

Paige didn’t push. She didn’t smile or tease or ask if Azzi meant it.

She just reached down, brushed her hand lightly over Azzi’s, and said, “Good.”

Azzi looked down at their hands. Then laced her fingers through Paige’s, quiet and deliberate.

And Paige, stunned into stillness, laced hers back.

--------------------

The common room at Aubrey’s place was packed, with couch cushions thrown everywhere, half-eaten boxes of pizza on the counter, and the hum of conversation layered over the background chaos of Mario Kart on the TV. Someone had dimmed the lights and lit three cinnamon-scented candles on the windowsill, which Paige immediately made fun of and then admitted smelled “stupid good.”

Azzi had shown up a little late, trying not to seem too eager about being there. She told herself it was just for the team, just for the bonding. It definitely wasn’t because Paige had texted “u coming? it’s weird without u here.”

She was nursing a ginger ale when Aaliyah slid onto the couch beside her and nudged her with her knee.

“You still recovering?” Aaliyah asked, gesturing at the can in her hand.

Azzi nodded. “Light stuff only. Doctor’s orders.”

Aaliyah leaned back, her voice dropping to a teasing tone. “Bet you’re milking it for sympathy, though.”

Azzi snorted. “Obviously.”

Across the room, Paige was talking to Aubrey and Inés, her smile wide, arms animated as she mimicked something that had clearly just happened in the game. Azzi’s eyes locked onto her instinctively.

She couldn’t help it anymore. Watching Paige had become a reflex, like her body was trying to remember something her mind couldn’t reach.

The group shifted a little, and Aaliyah stood up to refill her drink. Paige took the opportunity to slide into the now-vacant seat next to Azzi without hesitation. She didn’t announce it, didn’t ask, just plopped down and leaned back, her thigh pressing against Azzi’s in the narrow space.

Azzi tried not to react. Tried not to tilt her knee into Paige’s just a little more. But Paige was warm beside her, familiar in a way Azzi still didn’t have words for.

“You look bored,” Paige said, offering her a chip.

Azzi took it, crunching slowly. “You look like you’ve been winning all night.”

“Lies. Ice smoked me in three straight races. She’s ruthless.”

Azzi laughed. “I believe it.”

Paige smiled at her, something soft and steady in her eyes.

Azzi’s chest did that thing again—tight and fluttering and kind of painful in a way that wasn’t bad.

Before she could say anything, Aaliyah returned.

And dropped right back into the seat on Paige’s other side.

“Okay,” Aaliyah announced loudly. “I’ve decided I’m emotionally ready to race again.”

“Oh, we’re going back to that?” Paige grinned.

Azzi shifted slightly, suddenly very aware of the way Aaliyah leaned toward Paige when she laughed. The way she touched her arm when she teased her. The way Paige didn’t pull away.

It shouldn’t have meant anything.

They were friends.

They were all friends.

But something hot and uncomfortable prickled at the back of Azzi’s neck. She sat a little straighter. Pulled her legs closer. Didn’t say a word.

Aaliyah bumped Paige’s shoulder with hers. “Let’s team up this time. You and me against the world.”

Paige chuckled, but before she could answer, she looked over at Azzi.

Their eyes met. And for a moment, the room fell away.

Paige’s expression changed—just slightly, but enough that Azzi saw it. Like she knew. Like she could feel what Azzi wasn’t saying.

She didn’t team up with Aaliyah.

Instead, she stood, grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, and when she returned, she sat back down beside Azzi, closer this time.

Azzi blinked in surprise when she felt Paige’s hand brush hers under the blanket someone had thrown across the couch. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t obvious. Just the soft press of pinky to pinky.

But it felt like a declaration.

Azzi stared straight ahead, heat crawling up her throat. Her heart pounded, thudding like it had something to prove.

“I’m not very good at Mario Kart,” Azzi said quietly.

Paige leaned in just enough for Azzi to feel the whisper of her breath against her cheek. “Good thing I’m terrible. We’ll suck together.”

Azzi bit back a smile.

She didn’t look at Aaliyah.

--------------------

Later, when most of the group had left or retreated to other rooms, Azzi found herself alone in the kitchen, rinsing out her cup at the sink. The candlelight from the other room flickered against the dark backsplash. The silence felt strange after all the noise.

She didn’t hear Paige come in until she was standing just behind her.

“Hey.”

Azzi turned, startled. “Hey.”

Paige leaned back against the counter, arms folded loosely. Her voice was quiet. “You okay?”

Azzi hesitated. Then she nodded. “Yeah.”

Paige tilted her head slightly. “You sure?”

Azzi exhaled slowly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Azzi stared at the floor. “Were you and Aaliyah ever… a thing?”

Paige blinked. “What?”

Azzi flushed. “Sorry. That was stupid. Forget I said anything.”

But Paige shook her head, stepping forward. “No—it’s not stupid.”

There was a pause. Then Paige said, simply, “No. We weren’t.”

Azzi looked up. “But she flirts with you.”

Paige gave her a small, knowing smile. “She flirts with everyone.”

Azzi didn’t smile back.

Paige’s gaze softened. “But I don’t flirt back. Not with her.”

Azzi felt her pulse in her fingertips. “Do you flirt with me?”

Paige’s voice lowered. “I don’t think I ever stopped.”

Azzi didn’t know what to say to that.

She didn’t know how to explain the fire curling in her chest. The way she wanted to reach out and touch Paige’s hand again, just to feel grounded. The way seeing Paige laugh with someone else felt like losing something she hadn’t even realised she had.

So she just said, “Good.”

Paige stepped closer, now just inches between them.

“You okay now?” she asked again, softer this time.

Azzi nodded.

Paige smiled, and Azzi knew, deep in the pit of her chest, that she wasn’t imagining this.

Whatever this was, it was real.

Even if she still didn’t remember the whole story, her heart was starting to write it anyway.

--------------------

Azzi didn’t want to be alone that night.

She told herself it was just the headache creeping back in, that she didn’t trust herself to sleep without waking up in a panic again. But the truth was simpler, quieter, and infinitely harder to admit: she just wanted Paige nearby.

So she texted her at 10:42 p.m. while curled under a blanket, the glow of the TV flickering across her legs.

Azzi: head hurts again. don’t wanna be alone.

Paige: I’m already in the parking lot.

Azzi smiled, biting her lip.

Ten minutes later, Paige slipped through the door, wearing her usual loose sweatpants and a worn UConn hoodie that Azzi swore used to be hers before it became part of Paige’s wardrobe rotation. Her hair was still damp from a late shower, leaving faint spots of moisture darkening the collar of her sweatshirt.

She held up a Ziplock bag with two ice packs in it like it was an offering. “For your headache.”

Azzi took them, warm all over. “You’re kind of amazing.”

Paige shrugged, toeing off her shoes. “Kind of? Rude.”

Azzi laughed, already feeling better. They didn’t talk much after that. The TV played quietly in the background, some random sport doc neither of them paid attention to, and Azzi dimmed the lights until the room felt soft and weightless. They lay side by side on the bed, under the same blanket, Paige on her back, Azzi curled slightly on her side, facing her.

At some point, Paige turned her head to look at her.

“Still hurting?” she asked.

“Not really.” Azzi paused. “You helped.”

Paige’s expression gentled. “I’m glad.”

The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortable, but charged, like a string pulled taut and humming.

“Can I ask you something?” Azzi whispered.

“Anything.”

Azzi’s voice was soft and uncertain, like it might break apart midair. “Do you think people can fall in love more than once?”

Paige blinked, caught.

Azzi watched her. “Like, with the same person. Twice. Even if they don’t remember the first time.”

Paige’s breath hitched.

She turned onto her side, facing Azzi fully now, their knees bumping lightly under the blanket. Her voice, when it came, was barely audible. “I think… sometimes they never stopped.”

Azzi stared at her.

Something flickered across her face—recognition, maybe. Or the ghost of something close. She reached out without thinking, brushing her fingers across Paige’s wrist. “You always know what to say.”

Paige laughed softly, the sound frayed at the edges. “That’s new.”

Azzi’s hand lingered, thumb resting lightly over Paige’s pulse. She could feel it—steady but fast. Or maybe it was hers. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore.

“You make me feel safe,” Azzi said quietly.

Paige swallowed. “You are safe.”

“I know. It’s just… when you’re around, I don’t feel lost. Even when I don’t know what I’m doing or why I’m feeling something I can’t explain—when you’re here, it doesn’t scare me as much.”

Paige didn’t respond with words. She just reached up and tucked a strand of Azzi’s hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering for a breath too long.

“You’ve said that before,” Paige murmured.

Azzi’s heart jumped. “I have?”

Paige nodded slowly, her voice a whisper. “Almost the same words. That night we sat out by the dorm steps—you said I made you feel like you could breathe.”

Azzi stared at her, eyes wide.

Then, quietly, “We’ve had this conversation before?”

Paige hesitated. Then nodded again.

Azzi let her hand slide down from Paige’s wrist to her hand, twining their fingers together between them on the blanket.

“You keep saying things like that,” Azzi said. “Like we weren’t just friends.”

Paige didn’t answer.

Azzi leaned in a little, breath barely audible. “Were we?”

The question hovered between them like a held breath.

Paige closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, they were glassy, full of things unsaid.

“You were my favourite person,” she said. “Before. And after.”

Azzi squeezed her hand. “You’re mine.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was thick with everything they weren’t saying.

Eventually, Azzi’s eyes grew heavy, her breathing slowing. She curled closer, head pressing gently against Paige’s shoulder, arm draped across her stomach.

“Stay,” she murmured.

Paige didn’t move. “Always.”

--------------------

Sometime in the middle of the night, Paige lay awake, Azzi’s body warm and soft against her side, their legs tangled under the blanket. She could feel Azzi’s breath against her collarbone. Could feel the shape of her hand still resting lightly on her stomach.

She ached.

Ached to tell her everything. Ached to say You already fell. I already caught you. We’ve already done this—together. Ached to ask if they could do it all over again.

But she didn’t.

Because Azzi was finally here, and Paige couldn’t risk losing her again—not even to the truth.

Instead, she pressed a kiss to Azzi’s hair and whispered into the dark, “You never stopped loving me.”

And she pretended not to feel the way Azzi tightened slightly in her sleep—like even in dreams, some part of her still knew.

--------------------

It was raining outside.

Not the dramatic kind, just a soft, steady drizzle tapping against the windows, soaking the pavement in a thin sheen of silver. The world looked quieter through it, muted and still. Inside Azzi’s room, a playlist hummed low from the speaker Paige had left there months ago, one Azzi found herself playing more and more lately without knowing why.

She was curled on the couch in one of Paige’s old hoodies, bare legs tucked under her, a psychology textbook forgotten on the coffee table. The rain had lulled her into stillness. Her fingers rested loosely around a mug of tea she hadn’t sipped in fifteen minutes.

She didn’t even flinch when she heard the key in the lock.

“Hi,” Paige said softly, stepping in and pushing the door closed behind her. She looked a little windblown—hair damp near her temples, hoodie sleeves shoved up to her elbows, cheeks flushed from the cold.

Azzi’s heart did that quiet skipping thing it always did now.

“You’re soaked,” she said, setting her mug aside.

Paige shrugged. “Didn’t want to wait.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Wait for what?”

Paige hesitated, like the answer was too fragile to say yet. She kicked off her sneakers and padded into the room, curling beside Azzi without asking, without checking. They always sat this close now, touching at the shoulders, knees grazing, breath shared like a secret neither of them named.

Azzi watched her. Watched the way her eyes drifted around the room before finally settling on her.

“There’s something I’ve been trying to remember,” Azzi said, her voice barely above the rain. “Something just out of reach. Like I dream it and forget it before I wake up.”

Paige said nothing.

Azzi looked down at her hands. “But it’s not just in my head. I feel it. In the way you look at me. The way I…” She paused. “The way I feel when I look at you.”

Paige’s chest rose slowly. She turned, just slightly, so their knees fully touched now.

Azzi swallowed hard. “I think I’m falling for you.”

Paige’s breath caught.

Azzi continued, quieter now, like she wasn’t sure she should say it aloud. “Or maybe I already did. And my body just... remembers.”

Paige’s hand reached out slowly, brushing Azzi’s cheek, fingers trembling as they tucked a curl behind her ear. “You did,” she whispered. “You fell for me first.”

Azzi blinked.

Paige’s hand dropped to her lap. Her eyes didn’t waver. “We were already together. Before the accident.”

Azzi stared at her, breath frozen in her chest.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” Paige continued, voice shaking now. “I didn’t want to make you feel pressured to remember something just because I did. But you weren’t just my best friend. You were—” her voice broke slightly— “you were mine. And I was yours.”

Azzi said nothing. Didn’t move.

Paige looked down, ashamed of the tears in her eyes. “I thought maybe if I was just close enough, gentle enough, you’d find your way back. But maybe that wasn’t fair. Maybe I was just scared you wouldn’t—”

“I did,” Azzi said suddenly, her voice firm and raw and low.

Paige looked up, startled.

Azzi’s hand moved quickly, cupping the side of Paige’s face. “I didn’t know what it was. But I felt it. Every time you walked into a room. Every time you said my name. Every time you didn’t say anything at all, and I still felt steadier.”

Paige’s tears spilled freely now.

“I thought I was losing my mind,” Azzi whispered. “Because no one has ever made me feel the way you do. And I didn’t have the memory to prove it, but I had everything else—my heart, my body, my bones—they all remembered you.”

Paige couldn’t speak.

So Azzi kissed her.

It wasn’t tentative this time. It wasn’t a whisper or a maybe. It was full and sure and slow. Their mouths moved like they remembered each other, like muscle memory had always been waiting for permission.

When they pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, Azzi smiled through her tears.

“You didn’t need to wait for me to remember,” she said softly. “I was already falling in love with you again.”

Paige laughed, half a sob. “I was so scared I’d lost you.”

Azzi shook her head. “You didn’t lose me. You just had to remind me.”

They stayed like that, curled into each other, the sound of rain filling the space between kisses and laughter and quiet tears.

Azzi rested her head against Paige’s shoulder and whispered, “Tell me everything. Every second I forgot. I want it all back.”

Paige wrapped her arms around her and held her like she’d waited a lifetime.

And began.

[honey-star-glaze]

Abs Saja dating hcs?

A response already! This is spectacular. Cheers, Anon 💗. I was a bit busy today so I posted this later than I would've liked.

Little warning though - this includes a bit of angst (a mention of passing away) and a squint of suggestiveness - but you'd have to squint really bloody hard at a specific line.

Requests are also still open! Ask away while you can.

Dating Abby Saja/Saja Abby will include a great many things, so buckle in. This is after the whole Gwi-Ma saga because he would be far too focused on amassing souls and doing his bidding.

★ This is going to include my general perceptions of Abby, how he'd interact with you in the presence of others and how he'd treat you when you're alone; this will also be before meeting and after meeting you.

GENERAL

Seeing as his body is curated for mass sex appeal and to fit a 'persona' within the Saja boys group, Abby has taken to his task as 'the ideal body idol' with a single-minded efficiency.

★ I think that any thoughts or worries of objectification in the idol industry aren't even considered by him (since he doesn't have a soul or actual identity that would distinguish him from others in Hell Joseon, and he wouldn't suddenly gain one after entering the human world again). So not many insecurities will manifest your relationship from his end.

"Do I have problems with the idol industry? No, not really. It's just me and my abs up on stage when I perform... Huh? Oh, yeah. The boys are there too, I guess."

★ Literally no thoughts, head empty - except he does have thoughts, but doesn't dwell on them as much as Jinu. This is partly because he doesn't see it as his role to be the 'thinker' and isn't tortured by past memories. So, Abby would buy you something just because he thought it looked cool, forgetting that you have an allergy or mentioned not liking it until he sees your face fall and you backing away from him.

"Baby, look at this! Babe, wait, why are you swelling-"

Or, alternatively...

"Why are you running?! Why are you running?" He says, as he chases you down the street.

The boys in general are a mass of instincts and as the most physically intimidating, Abby would be one of the first to act upon stereotypes and perceptions others have of him with his desires as a driving factor.

★ He'd probably be the first to step up in a situation that calls for intimidation, no matter how minimal.

Is that door-to-door salesperson bothering you? He's staring at them like he wants to eat their soul from behind you, even if in actuality he's simply curious about their intentions. And is that person blocking the aisle with their cart whilst deliberating over two cans of the same brand? He's striding over to them before you can reverse and make your quick escape down a different aisle.

"You don't wanna go down this isle? Why? But there's food here that you like." He'll say, clueless as he tilts his head before pushing aside the offending cart with one broad hand. The poor person will probably be shoved into the shelves with the cart.

ABBY SAJA: BEFORE MEETING HIM

The body Abby has is taken care of due to a mix of Demon magic mumbo-jumbo and performances, so his looks are preserved with an illusion to keep you from ever guessing his natural appearance. Before meeting him, you'll seldom see him outside acting on his own. Acting human and pleasant ironically drains a LOT of his energy, moreso than fully enabling his demon form and actively hunting for souls.

★ He honestly fails at acting human at times. You'd most likely have to be in the position of a bodyguard or work as security detail for Jinu to let you remotely close to Abby or the others, but even before meeting him you'd probably pass by him at night and see him eating an excessive amount of food or nothing at all because he simply forgot to.

He also sucks at hiding information on interviews, and so interviewers target him the most.

Like, Tom Holland levels of bad at hiding spoilers.

"I don't eat as much as a person with my body should? I'm honoured, truly." He's grinning with a hand on his heart and sultry eyes until an inquiry about his eating habits stops him dead in his tracks.

"What. What do you mean you're concerned about my health? I'll have you know that I'm-"

The man is dragged away by the collar before he outs himself as a Demon on public television whilst you're sat at home with your head in your hands. Or, if you're the interviewer, laughing behind them.

ABBY SAJA: AFTER MEETING HIM

Finding out he was a Demon would honestly be child's play with how many unintentional mistakes he makes simply because he didn't think at the time. Eating would be a big one, since he'd probably be inconsistent with it (i.e. learning to act human again) and after practices he'd have no energy to do anything for a while.

★ I think that he'd actually just forget to reveal to you that he's a Demon once you're in the later stages of a relationship. Before being in a relationship, he'd be cordial and charming enough to plant little seeds of doubt despite seeing evidence with your own eyes that no human can jump that high, nor run that fast and a singular one cannot spin that amount of times in a second - no matter how talented.

"But Abby, how did you-"

"The physique, babe."

"But how did-"

"The glutes, sweetcheeks."

"But-"

"It's all me."

You'd actually have to corner him with sufficient thought put into trying to oust him as a Demon. Not to mention the forethought to separate him from the group. How you started dating is heavily tied to this - Abby himself most likely suggested dating out of desperation, after realising that he couldn't enthrall or kill you.

★ If you're a Hunter who's entertained by him, you'll probably let him live another couple of months and go along with it for the sake of seeing him more desperate.

"Wait! If you date me, there are tons of perks..."

"...that aren't your death? Name one."

"I thought we could... Give me a moment... It'll come to me, but for now let's just bask in the silence..."

Just as you raise your weapon, he exclaims aloud with his palms out and panicked, "I was joking! Joking. Ha. About- ab- oh! How about... these abs? Free access to them, all the time?"

Best believe that even with his life on the line he's bargaining with his body and a smirk on his face.

★If you're an ordinary human who's deluded charmed enough to see past the death threats and the potential age gap (give or take 200 years) then he'd be ecstatic that he has his own personal soul to accompany him around. He'd probably show you off like a trinket or a new toy he's gained to the others.

"Have you got one of these? No, I don't think so." Romance just looks at him with thinly veiled disgust and trades a sidelong glance with Baby.

"Look at what I've got! Look at my gift-" Mystery walks right past him as if he's an apparition.

Abby would be absolutely insufferable (and he knows it) and Baby would 100% trip him up in practices whenever you attend. He'd consider it worth it just to watch Abby try to reign in his temper and not send him flying.

★ Most of the relationship will be trying to keep these two dunderheads apart because they're always antagonising the other (Baby moreso than Abby).

★If you're involved with the boys as a Demon yourself, or as a manager of the boys that tends to stay out of the spotlight, you'd notice his little mistakes over time and question him on it. It could come across as helpful advice mixed with blunt observations, but you would definitely catch him off guard.

"Your marks. Did you get them before or after you joined?"

"Well, I actually, I-" Abby cuts himself off, leaning in with the intent of erasing your memories.

"I don't care." You duck down and grab a garishly bright pink leather jacket. "Here - wear this. The patterns disrupt the look you're going for as the cutesy supporting lover in the music video. It throws the whole scripting off. Now, go. From the top, again."

He's left gaping, staring after you like a sculpted statue.

Either way, he's asking you out first.

ABBY'S OVERALL DEFINING TRAITS: STRENGTH, CHARISMA, INTIMIDATION.

★ Can he cook? No.

★ Can he clean? Also, no.

★ Will he get you a ring? He'd forget.

I'm going to hold your hand when I say this, but you'd probably have to do the actual romancing yourself, and often have to go back to places for him to grow familiar enough to remember by muscle memory. Even when you pass away and eventually leave him, he'd still go there whenever he's feeling down or wants to celebrate. You'll be a memory that he revisits frequently, if he's allowed to keep them.

★ Anything that requires a quick and efficient kill or swift chopping in the kitchen can be handled by him, provided you don't stumble in on him eating the meat raw. Do not leave this man alone in the kitchen or you'll find him trying to eat cleaning equipment and raw food with the same gusto.

"Abby. Your lips are red. Tell me you haven't..." Will unfortunately be a common phrase in the household.

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY (?)

★ Doesn't register on his radar. He's a being driven by desire and, as pride in his looks is a big one (leftover from the influence of Gwi-Ma and Jinu's scheming), he cannot fathom why you'd want anyone other than him in a relationship.

His past history is murky and his morals dubious, but he honestly will not see anyone as worthy competition for your affection. Perhaps the other Saja Boys, but he'll most likely let his Demon side out to ward them off to know you're off limits.

"Where'd you go?"

"Out."

"Cool. Wanna watch a movie later?"

★ Abby is very physically affectionate to the point of overwhelming you, but can fall short in the face of emotional intelligence. Give him credit where credit is due though, he is trying. He's just failing, miserably.

"You're sad? I know what can fix it for you," he'll grin and shift his hips, leaning in with his eyes hooded and shining lips a breath away from yours. Seconds later, he's staring at a tablet screen, baffled at the process that led to the position he finds himself in.

"What, you just wanted a hug? Can do. But... there are so many other options..." He'll trail off in slight disappointment and mutter the other options to himself with you content in his arms.

HIS PLAYLIST

He's an actual gym rat even without having to go to the gym, so his playlist will probably be these same two songs played back to back on repeat until you're on the verge of strangling him (and he'd probably let you do it, too).

I had a whole gym segment prepared, but I feel that's enough for now.

★ Overall, I don't think Abby's persona changes much when you date him, and you'll have to be the one to adapt to his mannerisms as he adapts to human culture.

[multi-lefaiye]

some of my blorbo in laws

hi inspired by the last two posts i rb'd, i wanna share some of my absolute all time faves among some of my friends' ocs 🥺 this is not an exhaustive list, these are just some of the ones living in my head rent free The Most rn

@skitzo-kero - all of your ocs have such a special place in my heart, but i've always got khalki on the mind.... and barley.... beloveds (and, lately, michathan as well)

@anexor - same as above, all of your ocs mean so much to me. but goddamn if i don't think about iselda a lot to this day. and princess <3 EDIT: HOW COULD I FORGET SHADOW, MY BEST FRIEND SHADOW...

@invaderskoodge - SO MANY OF THEM but lately i've been thinking a lot about liam and liza. both separately and their dynamic.

@potatolordofficial - i am a dante fan first and a human second. but also i LOVE blood and murphy.... all of demon//bane is so beloved to me.

@corvus-rose - i'm a vayuden stan until the end!! and beyond!! i love them both!! but also i love aki sm

@vacantgodling - i fucking adore hya and amon, BUT ALSO PIPER... I CARE HER. and the whole cast of btaf rotates in my brain all the time but ESPECIALLY miss biscella herself.... her <3

@albatris - NAT AND ALEXXXX i love them so so much. alex especially. i wanna be its friend so bad.

@paradoxspir1t - strata is one of my favorite characters of all time i think, but also i loveeee ven, lore, wisteria, and deimos 💕 and not JUST for their connections with eden

[cuteniarose]

who's lien-hua??

Short answer: My absolute child and the only OC I have cried genuine, REAL tears over. And not tearing up or sniffling a little, full on SOBS. Kat still owes me emotional compensation for that one 😤😤

Long answer: She's one of @katkastrofa’s OCs that I now have partial custody of. P'Li's little sister, born in 136 AG, a sweet cinnamon roll too good for this world, too pure, no matter how damn overused that phrase is, it still fits her 🥺🥺🥺 When drawing her last year I accidentally made her look a lot like my friend's little sister so now I am always extra soft about her. But considering what happens, you can imagine the level of emotional devastation this is causing me and just how much this has affected my ability to look at Katya the same way ever again. Doesn't help that her older sister has an annoying tendency to wear her waist length hair in a brushed back braid...

Anyway, for reference, the baby girl, sweet girl herself, from about July 2023:

And now that you have been fully taken with this precious thing's cuteness, it is imperative I let you know that she is killed at age 7 by the warlord who tried to turn P'Li into a living weapon 😐

She's the living embodiment of a tragedy, a child born to be collateral damage, the one who could not be saved no matter what was done, the "it was always going to end this way" half of the tragedy dichotomy. A little girl unjustly killed as punishment for her sister not wanting to become a warlord's weapon, forever remaining as nothing more but a hazy memory of someone to protect. And I'm gonna stop now because I will start crying again, istg–

(There is a verse where she lives, though that is part of a much larger AU that can basically be summed up as "completely self indulgent mishmash of ideas, everybody lives/nobody dies, sunshine and rainbows and peace on earth, unless you're a world leader, then RIP", or as we like to call it, the Ultimate AU, because we never came up with a better name :P But getting into it would take too long and there really isn't too much to explain since it lacks a cohesive plot and is more a bunch of family shenanigans thrown together, so... moving on)

In Kat's fic Lost and Found the memory of Lien-Hua is the driving force behind all of P'Li's decisions, and she constantly blames herself for not having been able to save her (despite the fact she was a child herself, no older than 13), right up until the very end where she.. doesn't really get closure, per se, but is able to let Lien go, in the scene which I have affectionately dubbed "F.C. Yee owes Kat major royalties for this one, holy hell" #ifyouknowyouknow. But also Lien is a point of some interpersonal conflict since no one else can quite relate to P'Li in this case. Ming-Hua (while not present in LaF) is an only child, Zaheer is the youngest of three and was never close with his sisters, and Ghazan... well, his sister is two separate cans of worms depending on whether you're talking about Haya or Zada. Some pretty interesting stuff overall, really scratches my soft spot for family related dealings in fics, and I can't believe I just realised that P'Li's the only non-youngest child in the RL foursome, huh. It's oddly fitting, in a way, at least in my opinion

Oh, and also, Midori is a reincarnation of Lien-Hua :)

[enhaeil]

ICE ! ☆ 박종성

"pull up, she been purring like a kitten preyin' your love. i've been counting on the days you been gone a little too long..."

ice - kelly rowland

devine masculine energy with jay ! ⋆.˚✮

c/w: accidental daddy kink. smut near the end. dominant jay but in a good way

you never thought you'd be into the whole 'daddy' thing until you met jay.

not because he likes it or because he asked you to, but because of who he is.

he's such an 'i got it' guy.

☆ you were at the register of your favorite café, fumbling through your purse to get your wallet. before you could find it, he's already behind you, tapping his card in silence like that's what he was made to do. "next time, just tell me baby, i'll handle it."

or

☆ you're overwhelmed. tired. baby crying. dishes pilled up. when he comes home, he sees how distressed you are and wordlessly takes over, putting on his dish washing gloves. "go lay down. i got it." he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

before you know it, a quiet "thank you, daddy." falls from your lips.

—✩ ₊˚

he just really loves taking care of you. it makes him happy when his girl is happy.

☆ you lay in bed, half-asleep and groggy, when he comes back from running errands. he has sweats and hoodie on, yet still looking yummy as ever.

"hey, baby," he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. "i got the cereal you asked for, by the way." he tells you as he takes his sweater off.

"jay ... you didn't have to go grocery shopping for me babe, i had it." you say as you open your arms for him to crawl back into bed.

"of course you had it, but then what am i here for!"

or

☆ you mentioned a meal you were craving a few days ago. you forgot about it, jay didn't.

you come home from work to the smell of food and soft rock playing. you see your husband with a 'kiss the cook' apron on, focused on setting the table.

"i just wanted you to come home to something good."

when you tell him he didn't have to, he rebuttals saying that he "wanted to."

—✩ ₊˚

leadership, without control. he would never force you or make you do anything. you're an adult. but the way he speaks to you ... makes you want to obey.

☆ he never raises his voice. and he'd most definitely never lay a harmful finger on you. but one glance and a "come here" has you moving before your brain could process. he doesn't say anything that doesn't have to be said. a simple "try that again" and you're apologizing with your eyes.

—✩ ₊˚

he does know that you're human and will get moody or even angry with him at times. that's okay, you don't have to be soft with him all the time.

☆ you had a bit of an attitude, and you admit, you don't even remember what about, but you had one.

jay sits on the bed watching you huff around the room, purposely slamming a drawer extra hard. "you done, baby?"

you shoot him a glare, one that would probably kill anyone else, but not him. he moves from his spot on the bed, stepping closer to you, eyes still soft as ever. "get it out your system, i'll be here when you're done." you can't deny the way your heart softens.

or

☆ you really are mad at him, which leads you to giving him the cold shoulder all night.

"i'm sorry for what I did love, but can you at least talk to me so I can fix it?" he says, sitting across from you on the couch.

you remain silent, pretending to be locked in on your book.

"okay, be mad. when you want to talk, just let me know."

—✩ ₊˚ smut ahead

in the sheets, he never asks you to say it. you just do. he's not performative, he's just doing you in that good.

☆ you're underneath him, barely holding on. his strokes deep and slow, like he knows every nerve inside of you personally. (he basically does.)

"look at me, baby." and you do, or at least try your best with the way he's hitting it. he's so calm, not rushed, completely focused on pleasuring you like it's his purpose.

his rhythm is unforgivingly perfect, causing your head to tilt back as your back arches.

he grabs your chin, not to control you, but to anchor you. "don't hide from me. you feel that? you feel me right there?" he says, tilting his hips just right.

"fuck, yes daddy .." it slips out . not intentional, not to exaggerate like pornstars do, but because it feels right.

his breath catches, once like it does every time, but he doesn't stop. he smiles before leaning in. "that's what i thought."

after that, he doubles down, not going any rougher, but deeper, slower, more possessive, like he's claiming a spot inside of you. like he's reminding you that you're safe, and you don't need to think, just feel.

—✩ ₊˚

of course, aftercare is A1.

☆ you lay there, breatheless, limbs feeling like noodles. but jay is not in a rush. "you okay?" he asks, voice hoarse, the kind of voice that let's you know he felt it too.

"you did so good, so sweet for me."

he gets up, still within the eye's view as he grabs you a warm towel and bottle out of the mini fridge. "c'mere, i got you." there it is again.

when you fall asleep in his arms, jay doesn't move, not even when his arms go numb. it's worth it.

—✩ ₊˚

jay wears the title of being "your man" with pride. he loves being yours, as much as he loves you being his.

☆ he sits on the couch, scrolling on his phone as you talk on the phone with your sister.

"yea, my man took me there once. it was so fancy, the food is good too!" jay looks up from his phone, suddenly interested in your conversation. when you hang up he scoots closer to you.

"say it again."

"huh?"

"call me that again. your man."

you do, over and over again, until he's dragging you to the bedroom. because jay is your man, who doesn't just want to love you, but wants the world to know he's the only man who gets to.

a/n: ive been thinking this 4ever ive never been into the whole daddy kink thing but sumn abt jay mane IF I CATCH HIM ITS ON. also I SWEAR IM FINISHIN Y'ALL REQUESTS.

[jupiterpilgrim]

Swallow the Pill

Kim Minjeong (Winter) x Male Reader

word count: 17K

The duffle bag is halfway zipped when your phone buzzes on the dresser. You glance over, one hand on a folded towel, already thinking it’s the group chat. Maybe they’re early, maybe someone forgot sunscreen—typical. Instead, the name “Winter” flashes on the screen. The towel drops from your hand as you frown at it.

Winter...

You haven’t heard from her in a few days, not since that weirdly intimate coffee date where she’d kept looking at you like you hung the moon. Cute, sure, but intense. A little too much. You two weren’t even a thing. A couple of drunken makeouts at parties, a handful of late-night texts, and maybe one date that leaned dangerously into feelings territory. That’s it.

Her message is short and loaded:

"Hey, are you busy?"

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard for a second. You start typing.

"Kinda. Packing for the beach. What's up?"

The reply comes back fast, like she was waiting for you to answer.

"I’m sick. Really sick. Can you come over?"

You squint at the screen, reading the message twice. Sick? What the hell? You fire back.

"What do you mean sick? Like hospital sick? Are you okay?"

She sends an emoji—one of those pitiful, droopy ones—then another message:

"No hospital. Just the flu or something. I feel awful. Need help."

It takes a second for it to sink in. She must be joking. You stare at the phone, genuinely confused. She has friends, right? Family? Someone closer to her than the guy she’s hooked up with two or three times?

You type:

"Why me? Don’t you have someone else? Friends? Relatives? A neighbor?"

The response is instant:

"Everyone’s busy. And you’re close.

Please, daddy."

Your stomach lurches at the word. She called you that last time you were together too, whispered it in your ear with a grin, like she knew exactly how to get under your skin. You run a hand down your face and reply:

"Don’t call me that."

"Sorry. Please, though. I’m really sick. Can’t even get out of bed. Just need a little favor."

She adds a sad face this time, really driving it home. You stare at your duffle bag, then back at the phone, then back at the duffle.

You’re not her boyfriend. You’re not even really sure what you are. A fling? A pastime? The guy who texts back at 2 a.m.? And yet, there’s this strange pull. The idea of her alone in her apartment, small and helpless, buried under blankets, sniffling. It needles at you.

You type one last message:

"What exactly do you need me to do?"

Her reply is shameless.

"Take care of me. Bring some meds or soup or something. I’ll owe you big."

You know you should say no. You know you should zip the bag, throw it over your shoulder, and walk out the door to meet your friends. But something makes you hesitate.

Is it guilt? Curiosity? Some twisted sense of responsibility for this girl you don’t even know that well? You sigh, tapping out your final surrender.

"Fine. Be there soon."

You throw the duffle bag in the closet. Goodbye, beach. Goodbye, carefree weekend of sun and booze and forgetting your responsibilities.

Winter, you think, had better be worth it.

—

The plastic bags rustle against your leg as you climb the stairs to Winter’s apartment, the fucking elevator is being fixed, and it gives you more time to think about what exactly you're doing. You should have just told her to order delivery. Or called one of her real friends. Or just—anything but this. But here you are, with cold medicine, snacks, and a pint of strawberry ice cream you’re pretty sure she likes because she mentioned it that one time when you were half-listening.

Her messages played through your head the whole drive over. Fever. Headache. Sneezing. She hadn’t sounded dramatic—just miserable enough to guilt you into dropping your plans.

Her door is slightly ajar, probably because she didn’t want to get up to let you in. You knock anyway, a couple of quick raps, and her voice floats out, soft and faint.

“Come in!”

You push the door open and step inside. The place is small, tidy, and unmistakably her. Neutral tones with little bursts of pastel here and there. A fluffy pink throw draped over a beige couch. A single framed photo of a seaside sunset on the wall. It smells faintly of lavender, like one of those candles she’s probably obsessed with.

And there she is, sprawled on the couch, wrapped in the thinnest blanket imaginable. She’s wearing this oversized long-sleeve shirt that probably hits mid-thigh. Her dyed-blonde hair’s a bit of a mess, and her cheeks are faintly flushed. She looks like some kind of sickly cherub, both pitiful and oddly… attractive in her vulnerability.

“Hey,” you say, unsure where to stand, so you hover awkwardly by the door. “How’re you feeling?”

She shifts, sitting up just a little, her voice soft and nasal. “So-so. Better now that you’re here, though.”

You ignore the flutter of something in your chest and hold up the bag. “I got some stuff. Medicine. Snacks. Ice cream, too.”

That perks her up. Her eyes brighten a little. “Ice cream?”

You mumble something barely audible, already heading to her tiny kitchenette. “Yeah. Strawberry. Figured it’d help with the sore throat or whatever.”

She murmurs a soft “thank you” as you stash the pint in her freezer, then return to the living room. You glance around for a place to put the rest of the stuff and end up dumping it on her coffee table. She looks at you with those big, tired eyes, and you feel like you’ve just handed over some priceless treasure instead of a few basics.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she says quietly, though there’s a small, pleased smile tugging at her lips.

“Well, I’m here now,” you reply, shrugging. Then, unable to help yourself, you add, “Though it’s a shame it’s under these circumstances.”

Her lips quirk. “Yeah. I was the one missing you, and this is what I get. Karma’s cruel, huh?”

You kneel beside the couch, reaching out almost automatically to check her temperature the old-fashioned way. The back of your hand brushes her forehead, warm but not alarming. Her skin is smooth, softer than you’d expected.

“Doesn’t feel like much of a fever,” you say, trying to sound neutral.

“It’s mild,” she admits, leaning into your hand slightly like it’s instinct. “But I still feel awful. Weak. Kinda lightheaded.”

“Mm.” You pull your hand back, studying her for a moment. “Have you eaten anything today?”

She hesitates, her gaze sliding to the side. That’s answer enough.

“Of course not,” you mutter, exasperated but not surprised. “All right. Medicine first, then you’re eating something. I didn’t give up my beach weekend to watch you wither away on this couch.”

Her laugh is soft and a little hoarse, but it’s there. “You’re bossy. I like it.”

You don’t bother replying, already rummaging through the bag for the cold meds. She watches you the whole time, a small, lazy smile on her lips. It’s like she knows something you don’t, and for some reason, that makes you a little nervous.

You pull a pill packet out of the bag and pop one free, holding it out for her like you’re a nurse on shift. She looks up at you, her nose scrunched. “What is it?”

“Magic,” you deadpan, before grabbing the nearest glass off her coffee table, rinsing it in the sink, and filling it with water. You return and plunk it in her hand. “Just take it. It’s for the headache and fever.”

Winter pouts but obediently swallows the pill, washing it down with the water. Her throat bobs as she drinks, and for some reason, you notice her lips lingering on the rim of the glass. You shake it off and clear your throat. “You got anything in the kitchen? Like, soup stuff?”

She blinks, like she has no idea what you’re talking about. “Maybe? I think there’s... carrots? And, um, potatoes?”

“Perfect,” you say dryly, already heading to the fridge. “Soup à la ‘whatever I can find.’”

She props herself up on her elbow, watching you rummage through her cabinets. “Do you even know how to make soup?”

“Nope,” you reply without missing a beat. “But YouTube does.”

Her laugh is soft and raspy. “Good luck, Gordon Ramsay.”

You glance back at her, smirking. “Keep that energy, sick girl.”

—

It takes longer than you’d like—turns out soup’s a bit more complicated than just dumping water in a pot and crossing your fingers—but eventually, you’ve got something that vaguely smells edible. It’s hot, steaming in a bowl, and you’re honestly a little proud of yourself.

You bring it over and hand it to her. She takes it with both hands, peering into the bowl like it’s a work of art.

“Wow,” she murmurs, a small grin tugging at her lips. “It looks legit.”

“Don’t jinx it,” you mutter, sinking into the armchair across from her.

She spoons some up, blowing on it gently before taking a sip. Her eyes widen just slightly. “Hey, this is actually good.”

“You sound shocked,” you say, leaning back. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

She grins, small and sheepish. “Sorry. I just didn’t expect you to... you know... be so domestic.”

You shrug, trying to play it off. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. This was a one-time deal.”

She finishes the soup slowly, savoring each bite like it’s some kind of rare delicacy. When she’s done, she sets the bowl aside and looks at you. “Thanks. Really. I feel better already.”

You wave her off, standing up and brushing your hands on your jeans. “No big deal. If anything happens, just shoot me a message.”

Her head tilts. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” you say plainly. “There’s still soup in the kitchen. You can heat it up later if you’re hungry. And like I said, message me if you need anything else.”

Her hand shoots out, grabbing yours. Her grip is soft but firm, and it stops you in your tracks. “Don’t go.”

You hesitate, looking down at her. “Winter...”

“Part of the treatment depends on you staying with me,” she says, her voice light but pleading. Her eyes—big, dark, and slightly glassy—fix on yours. It’s unfair. A total cheat code.

“Come on,” you sigh, trying to pull back. “I’ve already—”

“Please,” she interrupts, tugging you closer. “I get clingy when I’m sick. I need you here.”

You groan, exasperated but helpless. Her face is too damn convincing, her voice too soft. Before you know it, you’re sinking down onto the couch next to her, and she’s leaning into you, her arms sliding around your waist in a loose, warm hug.

“You're too dramatic,” you mutter, but your arms move on their own, wrapping around her small frame.

She lets out a quiet sound—half sigh, half happy grunt—and burrows into your chest like she’s been waiting all day for this. “Thank you,” she whispers.

You sigh again, defeated. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t milk it.”

She just smiles against you, holding on tighter. And somehow, you don’t mind.

—

It’s one of those nights where nothing feels rushed, where time slips by in lazy waves. You’re at one of your friends' house, slouched on his shitty couch that’s seen too many parties and not enough Febreze. A game’s on in the background, the volume turned low enough that no one’s paying attention, and the room smells like pizza grease and beer. Everyone’s in that late-night haze where conversation loops into nonsense—who’d win in a fight between Superman and a shark, or the ethics of hot dog toppings.

You’ve got a cold beer in your hand, halfway through your third or fourth, when your phone buzzes on the armrest.

It’s Winter. She had sent you other messages earlier, But you didn't see them. Or you chose not to.

For a second, you just stare at her name on the screen. It’s been a week since you hooked up at that party, and yeah, you’ve texted a bit. Casual stuff. Songs, memes, “what’s your favorite color” bullshit. You’ve been trying to keep it light. She’s cool, and that’s the problem. Cool girls are trouble. They make you think too much, want too much, and you’ve got enough on your plate without adding emotions to the mix.

Still, curiosity wins. You pick up the phone and open the message.

"What r u doing?"

Simple. Innocent. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. You could lie. Say you’re busy. But why bother?

"Chillin at a friend’s. What about you?"

Her reply comes quick.

"Thinking about you."

You blink at the screen, your brain short-circuiting for a second. The bottle in your hand feels heavier.

"Oh yeah?"

She doesn’t reply right away this time. It’s maybe two minutes of nothing, enough time for one of your friends to ask you a question about the game, for someone else to start laughing about God-knows-what. You nod along, distracted, and then your phone vibrates again.

"Yeah... You were really fun at the party. ;) I kinda wanna see you again."

Your heart does this stupid skip thing, and you tell yourself it’s just the beer. She’s probably just bored. Horny. You tell yourself to play it cool.

"Is that so?"

The next message hits different.

"Come over."

Two words. That’s it. And then, right after, the low blow: a picture.

It’s not outright explicit, but it doesn’t have to be. She’s in these tiny-ass pajamas—shorts so loose you can see the curve of her thigh, a top hanging off one shoulder like it’s about to slide off completely. Her blonde hair’s a little messy, like she’s been rolling around on her bed, and her lips are pouty, her eyes big and innocent, like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing.

She knows. She fucking knows.

Your friends are still talking, still laughing, oblivious to the war happening inside your head. You take another sip of your beer and stare at the photo.

"What’s the catch?"

She replies with another picture. This one’s worse—or better, depending on how you look at it. The shorts have ridden up higher, and her hand’s resting on her bare thigh, just teasing enough to make you swallow hard.

The caption?

"No catch. Just... us."

You’re toast. Game over. Whatever thin line of resistance you had is gone. You drain the rest of your beer in one long gulp and stand up, grabbing your jacket.

“Where you going?” one of your friends asks, looking up from his half-dead vape pen.

“New plans,” you say, keeping it vague, keeping it casual. No one needs to know.

You text Winter on your way out the door:

"On my way."

Her reply comes immediately, a simple:

"Good. Door’s unlocked. You already know the address."

And just like that, you’re heading into the night, her photos burned into your brain and your chest pounding like you’ve already lost a game you didn’t even know you were playing.

—

The elevator hums faintly, a low mechanical noise that fills the silence as you lean against the wall, hands shoved in your jacket pockets. The building smells faintly of floor cleaner and old carpet, and the dim light overhead flickers every few seconds. You glance at the number ticking upward, trying to focus on anything but the flood of memories crowding your head.

The party. You hadn’t planned on much. Show up, grab a drink, maybe stick around long enough to prove you weren’t a total recluse. You weren’t exactly in a social mood, but your friends had dragged you along anyway, saying something about getting you out of your funk. You weren’t even there ten minutes before you saw her. Kim Minjeong.

Winter, as she likes to be called.

She’d practically lit up the room. Blonde hair catching the crappy strobe lights, this magnetic energy that somehow felt both chaotic and easygoing at the same time. You’d been nursing your beer, trying to stay inconspicuous, when she caught your eye and grinned like she already knew all your secrets. It wasn’t long before she was laughing at some half-assed joke you made, her laugh contagious, her hand brushing your arm. Flirting came naturally, her words laced with playful teasing.

And then—your place. Her legs wrapped around you, her breathy moans filling the room as your name spilled from her lips. The way she pulled you closer like she couldn’t get enough, the way her nails dug into your back when you made her come. This story was repeated at another party, then another. And now...

The elevator dings, snapping you back to reality.

You step out into the hallway, the carpet muffling your steps as you make your way to her door. Your stomach twists—anticipation, nerves, maybe a bit of both. The memory of her last message sits heavy in your chest. "Door’s unlocked."

You knock lightly anyway, out of habit, before pushing the door open.

And then she’s there.

Winter launches herself at you like a bullet, arms flinging around your neck, her body colliding with yours so fast you almost stumble back. Your hands fly to her waist instinctively, steadying her, and she clings to you like you’ve been gone for months.

“You came,” she breathes. Her face is so close to yours, her warm breath brushing your cheek, her big eyes looking up at you like you’re the answer to every unspoken question.

“Yeah, I—”

Before you can finish, she presses her lips to yours.

Her kiss is needy, urgent, like she’s been waiting all night for this moment. Her hands move to your hair, fingers tangling in it as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss. You tighten your grip on her waist, her small frame fitting against you perfectly. Her lips are soft and slightly sweet, probably from whatever she’d been drinking before you got here.

You walk her backward, barely breaking the kiss long enough to navigate, until you feel the edge of the couch hit your legs. You sit down, pulling her with you so she lands on your lap, her thighs straddling yours.

“Miss me?” she teases, her lips brushing against yours as she speaks.

“Not sure,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm, though your hands are already sliding down her sides. “Depends on how much trouble you’re planning to cause tonight.”

Her grin is wicked, her eyes sparkling as she cups your jaw. “A lot. Is that gonna be a problem?”

“Probably,” you murmur, leaning up to kiss her again.

She hums against your mouth, her fingers tracing along your jawline. “Good,” she whispers. “I like being your problem.”

You laugh, pulling back just enough to look at her. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Mm, you love it.”

You don’t respond, but the way your hands grip her hips says enough.

Her lips barely leave yours as she speaks, her words soft and breathy between kisses. “Why didn’t you answer my calls earlier?”

The question lands like a curveball, and for a second, you freeze. Her hands are still in your hair, her hips firmly planted on your lap, but she’s pulled back just enough to study your face. Her eyes are sharp, curious, and maybe a little accusing.

“I was busy,” you reply, trying to sound casual as your hands settle on her waist.

Winter narrows her eyes, her head tilting slightly like she’s not buying it. “Too busy to pick up the phone? Really?”

You sigh, leaning back into the couch, though your hands don’t leave her hips. “I answered your texts, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, after I sent about ten,” she counters, her lips twitching like she’s trying not to smile.

You smirk, raising an eyebrow. “More importantly, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

She seems to consider that for a moment, her fingers idly playing with the hair at the nape of your neck. “Okay, fine. You get a pass... this time.”

“Oh, thank you, Your Highness,” you tease, earning a playful swat on your shoulder.

Her grin softens, and then she tilts her head, giving you a look that’s somehow both sweet and devious. “So... you don’t secretly have a girlfriend or anything, right?”

The laugh escapes you before you can stop it, loud and genuine. “What? No. Where’d that even come from?”

Winter shrugs, but there’s a sly glint in her eye. “I don’t know... You’re kinda hot. Feels like you’d be someone’s boyfriend already.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Trust me, I’m not. You’re not sharing me with anyone.”

“Good,” she says, her tone a little too triumphant. She leans down again, her lips brushing yours. “Because I don’t like sharing.”

You chuckle against her mouth, your fingers giving her hips a light squeeze. “Noted.”

There’s a brief lull, the kind where the weight of the moment lingers, and then she pulls back slightly, her eyes locking on yours. “Hey,” she starts, her tone shifting to something softer. “Wanna get coffee tomorrow?”

You blink, thrown off by the sudden suggestion. “Coffee?”

“Yeah,” she says, sitting up a little straighter on your lap. “Like, a casual thing. No big deal.”

You hesitate, your mind running in circles. Coffee. That’s... date territory, isn’t it? Things between you two already feel fast, tangled, intense. The memory of her in your bed is still fresh, and now she’s talking about coffee like it’s nothing.

“Don’t you think we’re moving kinda fast?” you ask, your voice careful.

She tilts her head, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she smirks, her tone light and teasing. “It’s coffee, not a wedding. What’s the big deal?”

You exhale, shaking your head with a small laugh. “You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“Pretty much,” she replies, her grin widening. “So, is that a yes?”

You stare at her for a moment, her face close to yours, her weight warm and solid on your lap. Something about her makes it impossible to say no.

“Fine,” you mutter, smirking. “But you’re buying.”

She laughs, leaning in to kiss you again. “Deal.”

Winter shifts on your lap, her legs straddling you more comfortably as she leans in close, her arms loosely draped around your shoulders. Her expression is playful, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in her eyes.

“So,” she starts, her voice soft and sweet, “tell me something about you. Something real. Like... what do you do for work?”

You smirk, leaning back into the couch. “What, now you’re interviewing me?”

“Yep,” she says with a grin. “Can’t just make out with a stranger all the time. Gotta know who I’m dealing with.”

You let out a breath. “Alright. Well, I just left college not too long ago. Now I’m working this boring office job—data entry and spreadsheets. Real thrilling stuff.”

Winter tilts her head, her blonde hair falling over one shoulder. “Office job, huh? So you’re, like, a suit-and-tie kind of guy now?”

“More like khakis and button-downs. Nothing fancy.”

“Hmm,” she muses. “Doesn’t really suit you.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, well, it pays the bills. What about you? What do you do?”

Winter’s smile widens, and she shrugs a little too casually. “I’m a stylist. Hair, makeup, fashion—the whole package.”

“Wait, really?” you ask, your eyebrows shooting up.

“Why’s that so surprising?” she teases, leaning in closer, her face inches from yours.

“I don’t know. I just didn’t peg you for that. But I guess it makes sense. You’ve got the vibe.”

“Thanks,” she says, clearly pleased with the compliment. Then, out of nowhere, she drops the bombshell: “Oh, and I already knew you before that party.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” she says. “We went to the same college.”

“Are you serious?” You sit up straighter, your hands tightening slightly on her hips.

Winter nods, biting her lip like she’s trying not to laugh at your shock. “Yep. Saw you around campus all the time.”

“Why didn’t you ever talk to me?”

Her cheeks flush slightly, her confidence faltering just a bit. “I was shy back then. Plus, you were always surrounded by other girls.”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “I wasn’t surrounded by girls.”

“You were,” she insists, grinning. “And I thought you were cute, so I didn’t want to deal with the competition.”

You lean in slightly, your voice dropping. “Well, I thought you were beautiful at the party, you know. Everything about you—your clothes, your hair, your smile. You kind of lit up the whole place.”

Winter’s smile softens, and she looks at you like you just handed her the world. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” you reply firmly. “It’s the truth.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breaths mingling.

“Do you think about me after we had sex? I mean, whe I leave?” she asks, her voice quieter now.

You pause, the question hanging heavily between you. Instead of answering, you turn it back on her. “Do you think about me?”

Her response is immediate. “Of course I do.”

You blink, a little taken aback by her honesty.

“I kept thinking about our kiss,” she continues, her hands sliding down to rest on your chest. “About your hands on me. The way you were so... affectionate and strong at the same time. And how mysterious you are. Like, you give just enough to make me want more.”

Her words wash over you, leaving you almost speechless. You swallow hard, her gaze locking onto yours, and before you can stop yourself, the truth spills out.

“I thought about you too,” you admit. “Just a little. The way you moaned in my ear, soft and slow. The way you pulled me closer, like you couldn’t get enough. And...” You trail off, your hands sliding down to cup her ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “I couldn’t stop thinking about this tight little ass of yours.”

Winter lets out a small gasp, her cheeks flushing red, but the sly grin creeping across her face tells you she likes it.

“Is that so?” she teases, her voice trembling slightly as she rocks her hips against your hands.

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss her again. “It’s burned into my brain.”

Her laugh is breathy and soft against your lips as she kisses you back, her arms wrapping tighter around your neck. “Good. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

Winter’s hips shift subtly in your lap, her thighs squeezing against yours like she’s testing how far she can push you. Her breath is warm against your neck, her lips brushing the shell of your ear as she whispers, “Show me how much Daddy missed me.”

Your grip on her tightens instinctively, your hands digging into the curve of her ass. Something about the way she says it, soft but deliberate, ignites a spark in your chest and sends it straight to your groin.

“You’re gonna regret saying that,” you murmur.

She doesn’t respond with words, just tilts her head, offering her neck like a challenge. You lean in, your teeth grazing her skin, and she lets out a quiet gasp, her fingers tangling in your hair to pull you closer.

Your touch grows firmer, your hands roaming her body like you’re staking a claim. Winter notices—of course, she does—and the sly smile spreading across her lips only feeds the fire.

“Take this off,” you mutter, your fingers toying with the hem of her top.

Winter doesn’t hesitate, raising her arms obediently, her gaze fixed on yours. The top slides up and over her head, revealing her bare chest underneath. No bra, just smooth, pale skin and her small, almost flat breasts. Her nipples are soft, pink against the lighter tone of her skin, and for a moment, all you can do is take her in.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your voice thick with something between awe and desire.

Winter blushes slightly but doesn’t look away, her confidence unwavering as she leans closer, her hands resting on your shoulders. “Well?” she teases, her voice softer now. “Aren’t you gonna touch me?”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your lips find her chest, warm and delicate against your mouth. You kiss along the curve of her small breasts, your hands sliding up her sides until your thumbs brush against the soft skin beneath her nipples. Winter sighs, her head tilting back slightly, her fingers tightening on your shoulders.

You take your time, your lips closing around one nipple, kissing it before flicking your tongue over the sensitive peak. Her skin tastes clean, warm, slightly sweet, and you can feel her chest rise and fall against your mouth as her breathing quickens.

“Oh,” she murmurs, her voice soft but needy. “That feels so good.”

Your hand moves to her other breast, your fingers gently teasing the nipple as you kiss and suck on the first. Winter shifts in your lap, her thighs pressing tighter against yours as she arches into your touch.

“God, I missed this,” you mutter against her skin, your lips dragging across her chest to give her other nipple the same attention.

Winter lets out a soft, breathy laugh, her fingers slipping into your hair. “You're making it hard to believe that you were thinking about me just a little bit.”

You look up at her, your lips brushing her skin as you smirk. “Maybe I've been thinking about you too much.”

Your mouth trails upward, leaving her chest for her soft, exposed neck. Winter tilts her head to the side, offering it to you like it’s the easiest decision she’s ever made. You kiss along her skin, slow at first, testing, and then your lips part, and you suck gently.

Her breath catches. “Oh, fuck,” she whispers.

You grin against her neck, dragging your tongue along the spot where you know her pulse is fluttering wildly. “I’m gonna leave marks,” you murmur, your voice low and rough. “So you don’t forget me.”

Winter’s fingers slip from your hair to your shoulders, her nails digging into your shirt-covered skin. “Do it,” she pleads, her voice breathy and desperate. “Please, daddy, mark me.”

Something about the way she says it sends a shiver down your spine. You latch onto her neck, sucking harder this time, your teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp. She writhes in your lap, her hips shifting against yours as soft moans spill from her lips.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” she murmurs, her voice trembling with pleasure.

You move to a new spot, just below her jawline, and suck again, harder this time. Winter whimpers, her hands slipping under your shirt. Her touch is cool and electric against your bare skin, her little nails dragging lightly at first and then scratching down your back.

“Shit,” you hiss, the sting from her nails mixing with the heat of her body against yours.

She smirks, her confidence peeking through as she lifts your shirt higher, exposing more of your skin. “If you’re gonna mark me,” she says, her voice soft but teasing, “I’m marking you too.”

Her nails dig in harder this time, her hands roaming your back and sides with purpose. You feel the faint burn of each scratch, and it only makes you want her more.

You pull back just enough to look at her, her flushed cheeks, her lips slightly parted, her neck now adorned with faint red marks from your mouth. “You’re trouble,” you mutter, your hands sliding back to her hips, pulling her tighter against you.

Winter grins, biting her lip as she looks down at you. “Your trouble,” she says, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

“Maybe,” you admit, leaning in to suck on another spot just below her ear. Her moan this time is louder, her nails dragging down your chest in response.

Your hand slides down Winter’s side, sneaking under the hem of her loose shorts. The moment your fingers brush against her panties, you freeze.

“Shit,” you mutter, pulling back slightly to look at her. “You’re soaking wet already?”

Winter’s cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look embarrassed—if anything, she looks proud, biting her lip as she gazes down at you. “Just from your kisses,” she whispers, her voice soft and teasing.

You raise an eyebrow, your fingers dipping further, sliding over the slick heat of her pussy through the thin fabric of her panties. “You’re telling me this is all because of me?”

She lets out a soft gasp, her hips shifting against your hand. “It’s because I’ve been thinking about you. All night. You don’t know what you do to me.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, your thumb brushing against her clit through the damp fabric. Her reaction is instant—a sharp intake of breath, her nails digging into your shoulders as she presses closer.

You lean in, biting her lower lip just enough to make her whimper. The faint taste of her cherry lip gloss lingers on your tongue, sweet and sticky, and you pull back with a smirk. “You’ve been thinking about me, huh? Let’s see just how much.”

Grabbing her waist, you lift her slightly, laying her back on the couch. Winter looks up at you with wide, eager eyes, her breathing quick as your hands slide to her shorts.

“Let’s get these off,” you say, your voice rough.

She lifts her hips obediently, letting you pull the shorts down her legs. The thin fabric catches for a moment on her thighs before slipping away completely, leaving her in nothing but a tiny pair of panties, already darkened with wetness.

“Goddamn,” you murmur, tossing the shorts aside. “I missed this. Missed the way you taste.”

Winter squirms under your gaze, her lips parting as she whispers, “Then come and get me.”

You take off your jacket and throw it on the floor before you push her legs apart, pale and soft under your hands, guiding her closer to the edge of the couch. You remove her panties in one smooth motion. The sight of her drives you insane—her pink folds glistening, practically begging for your tongue. You kneel between her legs, hands sliding up her thighs, your thumbs brushing just close enough to tease.

“Patience,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss the inside of her thigh. Her skin is warm under your lips, the faint scent of her arousal filling your senses as you trail kisses along her thigh, inching closer to where she needs you most.

Winter moans softly, her fingers tangling in your hair. “Don’t tease me,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

You smirk, your lips brushing against her skin. “But you like it, don’t you? Makes it even better when I finally give you what you want.”

She whimpers, her hips shifting toward your mouth. “Please, daddy,” she breathes. “I need you.”

You grin against her skin, dragging your tongue up the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, savoring every shiver and gasp. “You’ll get me,” you murmur, your voice low. “But I’m gonna take my time first.”

Your fingers glide lower, grazing her entrance, and the slick heat against your skin makes your cock throb. “You’re dripping, Winter,” you murmur, teasing her as your fingers just barely slip inside before pulling back.

She arches her back slightly, her hips chasing your hand, desperate for more. “Please,” she whispers, her voice soft and breathy.

“Please what?” you ask, your tone laced with mock innocence. You drag your fingers through her wetness, just enough to make her gasp, but you don’t give her what she wants.

Winter whines, her nails digging into the couch as her thighs twitch against your shoulders. “Please... suck me. I need it,” she begs, her voice trembling.

“Need it?” You smirk, your fingers circling her clit lightly, watching the way her body reacts to every touch. “I don’t think you’ve begged enough.”

Her head falls back against the couch, and she lets out a frustrated moan. “Daddy, please,” she pleads, her voice breaking. “I’ll be good. Just—please. I need your mouth on me.”

“Better,” you murmur, leaning in until your lips are just a breath away from her. You can feel the heat radiating off her pussy, the scent of her arousal making your head spin. “But I want to hear you beg like you really mean it.”

Her hips buck again, and she whimpers, her voice desperate now. “Please, daddy, please suck me. I need your tongue. I need to feel you. I’ll do anything, just—fuck, please!”

That’s all it takes to break you.

“Good girl,” you mutter before diving in.

Your tongue runs flat against her slit, slow and deliberate, savoring the way she shudders under you. The taste of her—sweet, salty, perfect—hits your tongue, and it’s almost overwhelming. You groan against her, your hands gripping her thighs to keep her open as you suck gently on her swollen clit.

“Oh my God,” Winter gasps, her back arching off the couch. “Fuck, yes—just like that.”

You don’t stop, your tongue swirling around her clit before dipping lower to tease her entrance. She’s so wet, the slickness coating your lips and chin as you lap at her like you can’t get enough. Her moans grow louder, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer.

“Fuck, daddy,” she moans, her hips grinding against your mouth. “You’re so good at this—oh, fuck—don’t stop.”

You hum against her, the vibration making her cry out. Your tongue plunges into her, tasting her from the inside, while your thumb comes up to rub slow circles on her clit.

“Shit, you taste so good,” you mutter, your voice muffled against her. “I could do this all fucking night.”

Her breath catches, and her moans turn into desperate little whimpers. “Oh, fuck—I’m so close, please, don’t stop, please—”

Her begging drives you wild, your tongue glides along Winter’s folds, teasing her clit as you feel her squirm beneath your touch. But as much as her gasps and whimpers fuel your hunger, you decide to take it further. Your fingers slip down between her legs, sliding easily over her soaked pussy.

“Fuck,” you murmur, glancing up at her flushed face. “You’re so wet, Winter. You always get this messy just thinking about me?”

She nods weakly, her lips parting to answer, but all that comes out is a shaky moan as you press one finger inside her. The heat and tightness make your cock ache, and when you add a second finger, you’re rewarded with a sharp cry that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You remember last time?” you ask, curling your fingers inside her, finding that spot that made her melt before. “That sweet cream you gave me? I want it again.”

Winter’s head falls back against the couch, her hips bucking into your hand as your fingers pump into her. “Oh my God,” she moans, her voice high and needy. “Daddy, I—fuck—I’ll give it to you, just don’t stop!”

“Good girl,” you growl, your pace quickening. Your fingers thrust into her slick pussy, the sound obscene, wet, and fucking addictive. You can feel her walls tightening around you, and as you pull your fingers out slightly, you watch as a thin, creamy slickness clings to them.

“There it is,” you say, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “That’s what I wanted.”

Winter’s face is a mess of pleasure, her moans coming louder and more desperate as you keep going. “Oh, fuck, daddy, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” you cut her off, leaning in to suck on her clit while your fingers keep working her. “You’re gonna cum for me, Winter. I want all of it.”

She cries out, her nails digging into the couch as her thighs tremble around your head. “I’m close—fuck, I’m so close!”

You redouble your efforts, your tongue swirling over her swollen clit while your fingers curl and thrust, hitting that spot inside her with relentless precision. Her moans turn into frantic gasps, her body tensing as the pressure builds.

“Come on, baby,” you murmur against her, your breath hot on her sensitive skin. “Give it to me. I want to taste all of you.”

Her body arches off the couch as she lets out a broken scream, her pussy clenching hard around your fingers as she cums. You keep going, licking and sucking at her clit, swallowing every drop of her as her juices coat your tongue. Your fingers slow but don’t stop, drawing out her orgasm until she’s shaking and gasping for breath.

Finally, you pull back, your lips and chin glistening with her arousal. Winter looks at you through half-lidded eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to catch her breath.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her voice hoarse and trembling. “You’re so fucking good at that.”

You grin, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you meet her gaze. “Told you I missed your taste.”

Her laugh is soft and breathy, and she reaches out to pull you closer.

“And I missed you,” she murmurs. “Every fucking inch of you.”

You lean up, your lips crashing against Winter’s in a desperate, heated kiss. She doesn’t hesitate, kissing you back with just as much intensity, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer. Her taste lingers on your tongue, sweet and salty, and when her lips part to deepen the kiss, you can feel her shiver against you.

Between kisses, her breathless voice cuts through. “I need you,” she whispers, her tone thick with want. “I need your cock, daddy.”

Her words are gasoline on the fire already burning in you. You tug your shirt off over your head, tossing it aside. Your hands drop to your belt, unbuckling it with quick, impatient movements. Winter watches you, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling as she stares at the bulge straining against your underwear. The sound of your zipper fills the room as you shove your pants down, kicking off your shoes and stepping out of everything, leaving only your boxers.

Your cock is rock-hard, the fabric damp where precum has seeped through. Winter’s hand reaches out, slender fingers grazing the outline of you through the thin material.

“Fuck,” Winter whispers. She slides her hand inside your waistband, freeing you in one swift motion.

The moment your cock is out, her small hand wraps around it, stroking you slowly at first, her touch firm but teasing. Her thumb glides over the head, spreading the wetness there as her lips crash against yours again.

“You’re so fucking hard,” she murmurs against your mouth, her strokes growing bolder.

“For you,” you growl, biting at her lower lip as your hips thrust lightly into her hand.

Her grip tightens just enough to make you groan, but you pull back, grabbing her wrists to stop her before this ends too soon.

“Turn around,” you command.

Winter obeys instantly, her movements eager as she twists to lie on her belly on the couch. You guide her legs up, positioning her so her knees rest on the arm of the couch, her ass raised in the air and her thighs trembling.

The sight of her like this—completely vulnerable, her pale skin flushed, her pussy glistening and ready—makes your breath hitch. You step behind her, standing on the floor, your cock twitching as you grip her hips, lining yourself up.

“Beg for it,” you demand.

Winter lets out a soft whine, her head turning to glance back at you. “Please, daddy,” she starts, her voice shaking. “Please fuck me. I need you so bad. I need your cock inside me.”

“That’s not good enough,” you growl, gripping her ass and squeezing hard.

Her voice grows louder, more desperate. “Please, daddy, I’ll be so good for you. I’ll take all of you. Just—fuck, please! I need you to fill me up. Don’t make me wait anymore.”

You smirk, the raw need in her voice sending a shiver down your spine. “That’s better,” you mutter, your hands sliding up her thighs as you position yourself.

“You’re gonna feel every inch of me, baby,” you promise, your voice dark and full of intent. “And you’re gonna love it.”

You don’t bother teasing. Gripping Winter’s soft hips firmly, you position yourself at her entrance, the slick heat of her pussy already pulling you in. And then you push forward, slamming into her in one smooth, powerful thrust.

Her gasp is sharp, a mix of surprise and raw pleasure. “Oh, fuck!” she cries, her body jerking forward on the couch.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, pausing just for a second as her pussy clenches tight around you. “You’re fucking tight, Winter. So goddamn tight.”

She moans in response, her head turning slightly to glance back at you. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted, and her eyes are already hazy with need. “Don’t stop,” she begs, her voice breathy. “Fuck me harder. I need it.”

“Careful what you wish for,” you growl, pulling back and slamming into her again. Her cry of pleasure spurs you on, and soon you’re setting a brutal pace, your hips slamming against her ass with every thrust.

Her pussy grips you like a vice, impossibly tight and hot, and each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through you. You grab a handful of her ass, squeezing the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks as you drive into her over and over.

“Shit,” you groan, your voice rough as your hips snap forward. “You take it so fucking good. This tight little pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Winter moans, her voice high and needy. “Yes, yes—don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Her hands claw at the cushions, her body rocking with every thrust. You lean over her slightly, one hand gripping her hip while the other slides up her back, pressing her down into the couch. The new angle has her crying out, her pussy clenching even tighter around you.

“Fuck, Winter,” you mutter, your breath ragged. “You’re so goddamn wet. So tight. Feels like you’re trying to milk my cock.”

Her moans grow louder, more frantic, each one making your cock throb inside her. “More,” she whimpers, her voice breaking. “I need more. Please, fuck me harder. Use me.”

You oblige without hesitation, your grip on her hips tightening as you pound into her mercilessly. The sound of your hips slapping against her ass fills the room, mixing with her desperate moans and your own rough grunts.

“You love this, don’t you?” you growl. “Getting fucked like this, bent over and taking it. You’re such a good little slut for me.”

Her response is immediate, a loud, breathless moan as her back arches. “Yes! I love it—I fucking love it!”

Your thrusts don’t falter, hips slamming into Winter’s ass with relentless force, the wet, filthy sounds of her tight pussy taking you driving you insane. Her body shakes with every thrust, her moans coming louder and louder, each one dripping with desperate need.

And then you glance down at her ass—small, pale, and bouncing every time you slam into her. The sight sends a wicked idea flashing through your mind, and without thinking twice, you bring your hand down hard against her cheek.

The smack echoes in the room, and Winter cries out, the sound somewhere between a moan and a gasp of shock. “Fuck!” she whimpers, her head snapping up as her back arches.

You grin, your hand tingling from the impact. “You like that?” you growl, squeezing the soft, warm flesh you just marked.

“Yes,” she moans, her voice high and breathless. “Do it again.”

Your hand comes down again, harder this time, the sound sharper, and Winter’s reaction is immediate. She moans loudly, pushing her ass back toward you like the filthy little slut she is. “More,” she begs, her voice trembling. “Please, spank your good girl’s ass. I need it.”

“Yeah?” you say, your tone low and mocking as your hand rubs over the red print blooming on her cheek. “You need me to mark this pretty little ass of yours?”

“Yes,” she gasps, writhing beneath you. “Mark me. Use me. I’ll take whatever you give me.”

The words flip a switch in you, and your hand comes down again, and again, each slap leaving a red handprint against her pale skin. Winter cries out every time, her moans turning to shameless, wanton whimpers as she pushes back into your hand, her pussy clenching tighter around your cock.

“Look at you,” you taunt, your voice thick with satisfaction. “Bent over and begging to get your ass spanked like a little whore.”

“Because I am,” she whimpers, her voice trembling. “I’m your little whore. Please, don’t stop. Spank me. Fuck me.”

Your hand comes down one more time, the slap ringing out, and Winter practically screams, her hips jerking forward before slamming back against you. Her ass is warm under your palm, the flesh reddened and glowing, and you can’t help but grab it, squeezing hard as you bury yourself inside her again.

“God, you’re such a slut,” you growl, your grip on her hips almost bruising. “Taking my cock so fucking well. You love being dominated, don’t you? Being used?”

“Yes,” she cries, her voice breaking as she gasps for air. “I fucking love it. I love the way you use me.”

Her pussy grips you like a vice, her walls fluttering around you as you pound into her, each thrust sending shockwaves through both of you. But neither of you is there yet—this is just the beginning, and you’re nowhere near done with her.

Your thrusts are relentless, Winter’s high-pitched screams filling the room, each one tearing through you like fuel on a fire. Her once-pale ass is now completely red, the heat radiating from her skin as you give her one last hard slap. The sound echoes, and she cries out, her body trembling beneath you.

“Get up,” you order.

Winter doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even question you. She pushes herself up from the couch, her legs shaky as she stands, looking over her shoulder at you with wide, obedient eyes. Her chest rises and falls, her flushed body trembling slightly as she waits for your next move.

You don’t give her time to think. Grabbing her by the waist, you lift her with ease, her small frame light in your hands. Her arms instinctively wrap around your neck, and her legs lock around your waist, pulling herself closer to you.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your cock brushing against her slick entrance as you position her. “So fucking obedient. You make me so goddamn hard.”

Her breath hitches, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “Anything for you, daddy. Use me however you want.”

“Fuck, Winter,” you growl, the words making your cock twitch.

You push into her slowly, her wetness making it easy, but her tightness still squeezes you. Both of you moan at the same time, the sound mingling in the air as you bury yourself inside her.

Her voice is soft, trembling. “Oh my God... you’re so deep, daddy.”

“That’s because you’re made for me,” you reply, your voice low and rough as your hands grip her thighs. “Every inch of this tight little pussy is mine.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, her nails digging into your shoulders as you start to move. You lift her up, her body sliding along your cock, slow at first, letting her feel every inch as you fill her completely.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” she murmurs, her lips brushing your neck as she moans softly in your ear. “I love being your fucktoy.”

You groan, your grip on her tightening as you pick up the pace, moving her up and down on your cock like she’s nothing more than a doll in your hands. Her moans grow louder, each one hitting your ear and making your cock throb inside her.

“Yeah, that’s it,” you mutter, your voice thick with lust. “Moan for me. Let me hear how much you love being fucked like this.”

“I love it,” she whimpers, her hips moving in time with yours, her voice high and needy. “I love the way you use me. You make me feel so good—so full.”

“You’re my good girl,” you growl, biting at her neck as you fuck her harder. “And it’s my fucking job to ruin you.”

Her cry is almost a scream, her nails dragging down your back as she clings to you. “Yes,” she moans, her voice breaking. “Ruin me, daddy. Fuck me however you want. I’m yours.”

Your grip tightens on Winter’s thighs as you start pounding into her harder, your movements raw and unforgiving. Her gasps turn into high-pitched moans, her breath hitching with every thrust as her body clings to yours.

“This what you wanted so bad?” you growl, your voice rough against her ear. “You called me over just to get fucked like this?”

“Yes,” she cries out. “Yes, this is what I wanted. I needed your cock—I needed you to fuck me. Make me cum, please!”

“Fuck, you’re so naughty,” you growl, biting her neck lightly as your hips snap forward, driving her down onto your cock with brutal force. “A little slut, calling me in the middle of the night just to get used like this.”

“Yes!” she moans, her voice breaking, her hips grinding against you. “I’m your little slut—I love it! I love being your whore!”

Her words fuel something dark and primal in you, and you slam her down harder, her body bouncing against yours like a rag doll. “Yeah?” you snarl, your tone dripping with dominance. “Then be a good slut and cum on my cock. Right fucking now.”

Winter’s cries rise into screams as you adopt a brutal rhythm, your hands gripping her ass and thighs tightly, throwing her body onto your cock like she’s nothing more than your personal toy. Her moans are loud, desperate, raw, and you can feel her body trembling, teetering on the edge.

“Cum,” you command, your voice firm and unrelenting. “Cum for me, Winter. Now.”

Her body stiffens, her head snapping back as she lets out a long, broken scream. Her pussy clenches hard around your cock, her thighs quaking as waves of pleasure crash through her.

“Fuck!” she cries, her hands gripping you tighter, her nails digging into your back. Her entire body convulses, her moans turning into incoherent whimpers as her orgasm consumes her.

You lean in, attacking her neck with kisses and light bites, your breath hot against her skin. Her eyes roll back, her lips parted in silent screams, and you hold her tightly, keeping her steady as her body jerks uncontrollably in your arms.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” you murmur against her skin, your tone softer now. “My good girl. You did so good for me.”

Winter’s breathing is ragged, her body limp in your arms as she comes down from the high. You shift your grip, holding her gently, your lips brushing along her jawline and cheeks, peppering her with soft kisses.

“You’re amazing,” you whisper, your hands smoothing over her back. “You deserved every second of that.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, her face burying in your neck as she clings to you. “You’re gonna kill me,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse but full of satisfaction.

“Not yet,” you reply with a smirk, kissing the top of her head. “I’m not done with you.”

Slowly, you lower her to the ground, setting her on her knees in front of you. She goes willingly, her legs trembling but obedient, her wide eyes looking up at you as she licks her lips.

Winter smiles, her voice soft and teasing. “Ready for more, sir?”

You look down at Winter, kneeling in front of you like the perfect little slut she loves to be. Her blonde hair is messy, her cheeks flushed, and her lips slightly parted, still red from all the biting and kissing. She looks wrecked, and it’s fucking beautiful.

“Yes,” you say, your voice low and full of hunger. “I’m ready for more. But the question is—are you?”

She nods eagerly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as her eyes flicker down to your cock. It’s still rock hard, slick with her arousal, twitching slightly as you step closer.

You grab the base, stroking it slowly as you guide it to her face. The swollen tip brushes against her soft cheek, and her breath hitches, her hands coming up to rest on your thighs for balance. You drag your cock across her flushed skin, over her delicate jawline, and finally against her lips.

“You see this?” you murmur, smirking as you tap the head of your cock against her mouth. “This is what you do to me, Winter. You’ve got me so fucking hard, and now I’m thinking about marking this pretty little face of yours.”

Her eyes flutter shut for a moment, a quiet whimper escaping her lips as she presses a soft kiss to the head of your cock. “Do it,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need. “Please, cum on my face. I want it. I want you to mark me.”

Her words send a jolt straight to your core, but you’re not letting her off that easy. You grip her chin gently, tilting her face up to meet your gaze. “If you want it so bad,” you murmur, your thumb brushing over her lower lip, “you’re gonna have to earn it. Make me cum, Winter. Show me how much you want it.”

She doesn’t waste a second. Her hands wrap around your shaft, small and delicate against your thick cock, and she leans in, her tongue flicking out to tease the head. You let out a low groan, watching as she works, her eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“Good girl,” you mutter, your hand resting on the back of her head. “Show me what that pretty little mouth can do.”

Winter’s lips part, and she takes you in, her tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down your length. Her mouth is warm and wet, and the suction she creates has your knees threatening to buckle. She starts slow, her movements deliberate as she takes more of you, her hands stroking what her mouth can’t reach.

“Fuck, that’s it,” you groan, your fingers tangling in her hair. “You look so fucking good like this, Winter. Taking me so well.”

She moans around you, the vibration making you curse under your breath. Her head bobs, her pace quickening as she gets more confident, more eager. Spit drips down her chin, her hands twisting at the base of your cock, and her soft little whimpers drive you closer to the edge.

“Shit, baby,” you mutter, your voice rough. “You’re so fucking good at this. Keep going—just like that.”

Her response is to take you even deeper, her throat constricting around you as she gags slightly, but she doesn’t stop. Her nails dig into your thighs, her moans growing louder, and you can feel yourself getting dangerously close.

“Fuck, Winter,” you groan, your grip on her hair tightening. “You’re gonna make me cum all over that pretty face of yours. Is that what you want? To be covered in me?”

She pulls back just enough to speak, her lips slick and swollen. “Yes,” she gasps, stroking you with both hands. “I want it so bad. Please, cum for me, daddy. Mark me. I’ll take all of it.”

Her words are your undoing, and you feel the tension coiling tight in your core as she wraps her lips around you again, sucking you with even more determination.

Winter’s lips work over your cock like she was born to do it, her soft, pink mouth gliding along your length while her tongue swirls and flicks against the sensitive underside. Every movement sends jolts of pleasure coursing through you, making it harder to keep your composure.

Her eyes glance up, locking onto yours, and fuck—it’s like she knows exactly what that look does to you. Wide, innocent, framed by her messy blonde hair, and full of something sinful. The combination of her gaze and the wet, obscene sound of her sucking you is almost too much.

“Goddamn, Winter,” you groan, your head falling back for a moment as you let yourself get lost in it. “You’re so fucking good at this. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

She doesn’t. She doubles down, taking you deeper, her lips stretching around your cock as her tongue continues to tease. You can feel her saliva dripping down, making a slick mess of her chin, but she doesn’t seem to care. If anything, she moans softly, the vibrations shooting straight through you.

“Fuck,” you hiss, your fingers tightening in her hair. You glance down, and the sight of her small hands now cupping and massaging your balls makes your knees nearly give out. “Shit, baby, that’s... that’s so fucking good.”

Winter’s only response is another moan, muffled around your cock. She speeds up, her hands stroking what her mouth can’t reach, her tongue flicking over your tip with each pass. You can feel the pressure building in your gut, that telltale tightness letting you know you’re close.

“Fuck, Winter, stop,” you growl, pulling her off your cock with a wet pop. You’re panting, your cock twitching in your hand as you take a step back.

She looks up at you, her lips swollen and slick with spit, her chest heaving. “Why’d you stop me?” she asks, her voice sweet and breathless.

“Because,” you say, gripping your cock and stroking it slowly, trying to hold back. “I’m gonna make a fucking mess of your face, and I need you to beg for it.”

Her eyes light up, and she leans forward slightly, her hands resting on her thighs. “Please,” she says, her voice soft and needy. “I want it. I want you to cum on me, daddy. I need it. Please, baby, please.”

“Shit,” you groan, the sound of her sweet little pleas making it impossible to hold back.

You stroke yourself faster, the slickness of her spit making it easy as you aim at her gorgeous face. Winter watches you, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, her expression full of anticipation.

“Fuck,” you growl, the tension snapping as you feel yourself tip over the edge. “Here it comes, baby. Take it all.”

The first hot spurt of cum hits her cheek, followed by another and another, painting her face in thick, messy streaks. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move—she just sits there, taking every drop like the good little slut she loves to be.

“Fuck, Winter,” you mutter, your strokes slowing as the last few ropes of cum land on her lips and chin.

Her lips curl into this filthy little smile, and she doesn’t waste a second. Her fingers are already working, sliding through the mess, gathering your cum like it’s something precious, smearing it across her cheeks, her forehead, even brushing it down to her neck. She spreads it out deliberately, almost artfully, until her face glistens with it, sticky and marked like she wants everyone to know exactly what she’s done. Exactly who she belongs to.

Her tongue flicks out, tasting the corner of her lips, humming softly as if savoring the flavor. She's in no rush to get clean, it's like Winter feels like she doesn't need to—she just leans into the mess, into the filth, wearing it like a badge of honor.

"You taste so fucking good, daddy,” she murmurs, her voice low and thick with satisfaction. Her eyes stay locked on yours as she drags her fingers to her lips, sucking one clean with a soft, wet pop. She grins wider, teeth flashing. "I could eat this off me all night.”

You smirk, brushing a thumb across her cheek to gather some of the cum she missed. “Clean me up,” you say, stepping closer and holding your cock in front of her mouth.

Winter leans in without hesitation, her tongue flicking out to lick along your length, cleaning every inch of you with slow, deliberate strokes. She takes you into her mouth one last time, sucking gently, her eyes fluttering shut as if savoring the moment.

“Good girl,” you murmur, stroking her hair as she finishes. “You’re fucking perfect.”

—

The TV hums softly in the background, some late-night infomercial filling the quiet, but you’re not watching it. Your eyes are on Winter, her head resting on your lap as she sleeps. Her soft blonde hair falls over her face, her lips slightly parted, her breathing slow and steady. She looks so peaceful like this, curled up on the couch under your hand.

You stroke her hair absentmindedly, your mind drifting. It’s not the first time you’ve been like this with her, and that’s what’s messing you up. You think back to that night at her apartment—the way she kissed you like she’d been waiting her whole life for it, the way she moaned your name, the way she asked you to mark her, the way she fell asleep in your arms afterward.

And then, the morning after. That was unusual for you. Normally, you’d wake up, maybe share some awkward small talk, and then you’d be gone. No texts, no calls, just a memory and a closed chapter. But with Winter...

You remember how she clung to you that morning, burying her face in your chest, refusing to let you go. How you didn’t mind staying in bed with her, your arms wrapped around her, her warmth sinking into you. It was so... different.

Now here you are again. Winter on your lap, completely comfortable with you being here. And you, sitting here like an idiot, unable to tear yourself away. If only she wasn’t so cute, so sweet, so... fucking irresistible.

You sigh quietly and glance at the clock. It’s late, and you know you shouldn’t stay. Carefully, you slide your hand out from under her head and shift her onto the couch, laying her down gently. She murmurs something in her sleep but doesn’t wake up. You grab a blanket from the armrest and drape it over her, tucking it around her small frame.

You pause for a moment, just looking at her. God, she’s beautiful. Too beautiful.

Shaking your head, you grab your jacket and head for the door. You’ve got your hand on the doorknob when you hear a soft, groggy voice behind you.

“Where are you going?”

You freeze, turning to see Winter sitting up on the couch, her eyes heavy with sleep but full of confusion. She looks at you like a child caught waking up to an empty room, her expression tugging at something deep inside you.

“I was just leaving,” you say quietly. “You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.”

She gets up slowly, the blanket falling off her shoulders as she shuffles over to you. Her arms wrap around your waist, her cheek pressing against your chest. “Stay,” she murmurs, her voice soft but firm.

You hesitate, your hands hovering awkwardly at your sides. “Winter...”

“Why do you always run away?” she asks, her voice muffled against your shirt.

“I’m not running away,” you say, though it sounds weak even to your own ears.

She pulls back slightly, looking up at you with those big, questioning eyes. “Yes, you are. You did it the first time, and the second, and—God, you always do this. Why?”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t... I don’t do relationships, Winter. That’s not my thing. I’m not trying to hurt you—I just...”

“Just what?” she presses. “What are you so afraid of?”

You hesitate, the words caught in your throat. Finally, you take a deep breath and say, “Maybe I like you more than I should. And I don’t know how to deal with that.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and you feel her grip on your shirt tighten.

“Relationships are messy,” you continue, your voice low. “They’re complicated. And I’m not good at that shit. I don’t want to fuck this up, Winter. I don’t want to fuck you up.”

She blinks at you, her expression softening. “You’re not fucking me up,” she says quietly. “You’re... you’re making me happy. And I think I make you happy too. Or am I wrong?”

You look at her, the vulnerability in her eyes. “You do,” you admit. “You make me feel things I don't want to feel, Winter.”

“Then stay,” she whispers. “Just for tonight. Stop running, just... stay with me.”

Her words hang in the air, and for once, you don’t have a reason to say no. Letting out a heavy sigh, you throw your jacket back on the couch and wrap your arms around her and pulling her close, resting your chin on top of her head.

“Alright,” you say quietly. “I’ll stay.”

Winter hugs you tighter, her body relaxing against yours. “Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice soft and full of relief.

Winter tugs you back to the couch, her small hands wrapped around your wrist as she pulls you down beside her. The blanket slips off the couch as she curls up next to you, her head resting against your shoulder.

“How’re you feeling?” you ask, glancing down at her.

“Better,” she murmurs, her voice soft and still a little groggy. “Just a little cold.”

You tilt your head, your brow furrowing slightly. “Want me to grab you something from your closet? A hoodie or something?”

She shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips as she looks up at you. “No. You’re already enough to warm me up.”

You roll your eyes, though the corner of your mouth twitches upward. “You’re so clingy.”

“And that's why you like me,” she shoots back, leaning into you a little more.

You sigh, letting the moment settle for a bit, but then Winter shifts, sitting up slightly to face you. There’s something in her eyes now—a mix of curiosity and determination that instantly puts you on edge.

“So,” she starts, her tone deceptively casual. “Why are you so anti-relationship?”

“Winter…” you warn, already feeling the weight of the conversation she’s trying to start.

“Nope,” she says, cutting you off with a shake of her head. “Don’t brush me off. You just admitted you like me, so now I get to ask questions.”

You groan, leaning your head back against the couch. “This is why I don’t talk about shit like this.”

“Too bad,” she says firmly, poking your chest with her finger. “Spill.”

You let out a long sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “Fine. You want the story? Here it is.”

Winter doesn’t say anything, just waits, her eyes locked on you, her expression soft but focused.

“It was high school,” you start, your voice quieter now. “I was seventeen. She was… everything. Or at least, I thought she was. We were together for two years—serious, like, talking-about-the-future serious. Then, out of nowhere, she dumped me. Said she was bored. Two years, and she just… walked away like it was nothing.”

Winter’s face twists in disbelief. “Are you serious? She said that? That she was bored?”

You nod, a bitter laugh escaping you. “Yeah. And she was already hooking up with some guy from her physics class a week later. Guess I wasn’t exciting enough.”

“That’s fucking awful,” Winter says, her voice soft but filled with anger on your behalf.

“Yeah, well, it kind of destroyed me,” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was stupid enough to think it was love, you know? Thought she was the one or whatever. But after that, I decided I wasn’t gonna deal with that shit anymore. Relationships are messy, and people suck.”

Winter doesn’t say anything right away, just stares at you like she’s trying to piece you together. Finally, she asks, “So, what? You’re just gonna live the rest of your life alone?”

“Pretty much,” you say with a shrug. “I’m not living in the 50s, Winter. I don’t need to get married or settle down to be happy.”

Her brow furrows, and she shifts closer, her hand resting lightly on your knee. “I’m sorry you went through that. I really am. But…”

You raise an eyebrow. “But?”

“But,” she continues, her voice firm, “not everyone’s like her. Not everyone’s gonna break your heart.”

You scoff lightly. “Right. Until they do.”

Winter shakes her head, her hand squeezing your knee. “I’m not saying you have to trust everyone. I’m just saying… maybe you shouldn’t shut the door completely. You’re not the same person you were back then.”

You glance at her, her face so earnest it almost hurts to look at her. “What are you getting at?”

She takes a deep breath, her hand moving to cover yours. “I’m saying… give me a chance. Let me show you that relationships don’t have to be messy and painful. That they can be good, too.”

“Winter…”

“Just think about it,” she says softly. “I’m not asking for forever. I’m asking for a chance. For us.”

Her eyes search yours, and for the first time in years, you feel the walls you’ve built around yourself start to crack, just a little.

“Why me, anyway?” you finally ask. “There are so many guys out there—guys who actually want to date, who don’t have all this baggage.”

Winter sits back a little, still close but giving you enough space to think. Her eyes stay locked on yours, though, unwavering. “Because none of them are you,” she says softly, her tone leaving no room for doubt.

You blink, caught off guard by the simplicity of her answer. “What does that even mean?”

She smiles, a small, almost shy curve of her lips. “It means I don’t want someone else. I want you. You’re funny, and you’re smart, and you’re—” She pauses, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You’re different. In the best way.”

You snort lightly, trying to deflect the compliment. “Different how?”

“You just are,” she says, leaning forward. “Remember that night I couldn’t sleep, and you were up playing video games? We messaged for hours, just talking about the dumbest shit.”

You do remember. She’d been wide awake at 2 a.m., texting you about how she hated the sound of the neighbor’s wind chimes. You’d been mid-match, only half-paying attention at first, but then she’d started making jokes, and somehow you’d ended up talking until the sun came up.

“Yeah,” you say after a moment. “That was... pretty cool.”

“Exactly,” she says, her smile growing. “You made me feel better that night without even trying. And it wasn’t just that. It’s everything. The way you talk, the way you think. You don’t even realize how... captivating you are.”

You glance away, the intensity of her gaze making your stomach twist. “You’re overselling me, Winter.”

“I’m not,” she says, and before you can argue, she climbs into your lap. Her movements are smooth and confident, and suddenly, she’s straddling you, her hands resting lightly on your shoulders.

“You’re scared,” she says softly, her face inches from yours. “And I get it. But if you give me a chance, I promise you won’t get tired of me.”

You look at her, her wide, earnest eyes, her lips slightly parted, and you know she’s being honest. You sigh, leaning your head back against the couch. “I already know I wouldn’t get tired of you,” you admit, your voice low. “That’s the problem.”

Her brow furrows slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” You pause, your hands instinctively settling on her waist. “What if it’s the other way around? What if you get tired of me?”

She stares at you for a moment, and then, without saying a word, she leans in and kisses you. It’s soft at first, her lips brushing against yours gently, but then she deepens it, her hands sliding up to cup your face. It’s not just a kiss—it’s an answer.

When she finally pulls back, her voice is firm. “I’m not going to get tired of you.”

You stare at her, her words settling somewhere deep inside you, and you can’t find it in yourself to argue.

She smiles again, softer this time, her fingers tracing along your jaw. “So... is tomorrow’s coffee still on?”

You chuckle, shaking your head slightly. “As long as you’re feeling better.”

She grins, her eyes lighting up. “Deal.”

Winter’s hand moves slowly over your chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns against the fabric of your shirt. Her gaze softens, though there’s a playful glint in her eyes. “So,” she starts, her tone low and inviting, “what do you think about celebrating this new phase of ours… in bed?”

“You’re sick, Winter.”

She tilts her head, her lips curving into a sly smile. “I feel cured already.”

You raise an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Do you?”

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, leaning in closer, her fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to brush against your bare skin. “And if I’m not, maybe you could… help with that?”

Your laugh is soft, though your body betrays you, your hands already resting on her hips. “You really think I’m gonna fuck you when you’re sick?”

“Why not?” she counters, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “Are you saying you’d stop just because of that?”

“Yes,” you say firmly, though your grip on her hips tightens slightly. “Because I actually care about your well-being, even if you don’t.”

Her smile widens, and she leans closer, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “For the sake of my well-being, I need to be fucked really hard. By you.”

You pull back slightly, giving her an incredulous look. “And how exactly is that supposed to help?”

She shrugs, her fingers sliding further up your chest. “It’s alternative treatment,” she says, her tone teasing. “I’m pretty sure it’s good for circulation or something.”

You shake your head, fighting a grin. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re already hard,” she points out, shifting her weight slightly to grind her hips against your lap. The motion is subtle, but it’s enough to make your cock twitch, the heat of her body pressing against you.

“Winter—” you start, but she cuts you off, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re hard from the thought of fucking a sick, vulnerable girl,” she says, her voice dropping to a provocative whisper.

You smirk, your hands sliding down to squeeze her little ass. “You don’t look very vulnerable right now.”

She laughs softly, her breath warm against your neck. “You’re right. I’m not. In fact, I’m fucking horny.”

Her words send a jolt straight through you, and before you can second-guess yourself, you’re standing, lifting her effortlessly into your arms. Winter squeals softly, her legs wrapping around your waist, her hands locking behind your neck.

“You’re so fucking naughty,” you mutter, carrying her toward the bedroom.

“And you’re irresistible,” she counters, grinning.

You glance down at her, her flushed cheeks, her bright eyes, her lips slightly parted. “You are too,” you admit, your voice quieter. “Too fucking irresistible for your own good.”

She leans in, brushing her lips against yours in a soft, teasing kiss. “Then don’t resist.”

You step into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind you before lowering her onto the bed. She looks up at you, her messy blonde hair splayed across the pillow, her lips curling into a pout. “Promise you’ll be affectionate with me after?” she asks, her voice soft but laced with mischief. “I'm so sensitive.”

You laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Sensitive? You? That’s the last thing you are.”

Her pout deepens, though the glint in her eyes gives her away. “I can be sensitive!”

“Sure you can,” you tease, your hands already sliding under her shirt. “But I think we both know you’re a lot more dangerous than that.”

She grins, her hands tugging you closer. “Dangerous or not, I’m all yours.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you murmur, lowering yourself over her as your lips capture hers in a kiss that promises everything she asked for—and more.

As you pull back from the kiss, standing over Winter while starting to unbutton your shirt, she suddenly shifts, adopting this dramatic, old-Hollywood expression. Her eyes widen with mock innocence, her hand fluttering delicately to her chest.

“Oh, Doctor,” she says in an exaggerated, breathy voice, like a starlet from a black-and-white film. “Are you sure this… treatment is absolutely necessary?”

You blink, momentarily thrown off. “What?”

“This treatment,” she repeats, pointing vaguely between the two of you. “It feels so… unconventional. I’m not sure I should be here.”

The way she’s looking at you, like she’s trying to win an Oscar, makes you snort. “What the hell are you doing?”

She gasps, putting a hand to her cheek like you’ve just scandalized her. “I’m your patient, Doctor! You mustn’t mock me in my time of need!”

It finally clicks, and you shake your head, chuckling as you play along. “Oh, I see how it is,” you say, pulling your shirt off and tossing it onto the floor, already working on your pants. “Well, don’t worry, Miss Winter. You’re my favorite patient. The most beautiful, the most well-behaved. You deserve the best care.”

She covers her mouth like she’s shocked, then peeks through her fingers with a mischievous grin. “Oh, Doctor, you must say that to all your patients.”

“I don’t,” you say firmly, now standing in just your underwear. You slide your hands slowly down her thighs, her skin soft and warm beneath your palms. “You’re the only one I touch like this. The only one I care for in such a… special way.”

Winter bites her lip, pretending to be shy as she squirms under your touch. “Doctor,” she whispers, her voice trembling with fake innocence. “Promise you’ll take good care of me?”

You smirk, leaning down so your face is close to hers. “I promise. That’s my job, after all.”

Her cheeks flush, and she looks up at you through her lashes. “You make me feel… strange things, Doctor.”

You raise an eyebrow, playing along. “Strange things? What kind of things, Miss Winter?”

She hesitates, biting her lip like she’s embarrassed. “Well… down there,” she says softly, gesturing vaguely toward her hips. “You make me all… wet.”

You fight back a grin, your hands tightening slightly on her thighs. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” she continues, her voice growing more dramatic. “And I’ve been having such impure thoughts about you, Doctor. Thoughts about your… hands. And your lips. And other things.”

You let out a low chuckle, leaning down to kiss her, slow and teasing. “That does sound serious,” you murmur against her lips. “But don’t worry, Miss Winter. I know exactly how to solve this.”

She gasps softly, her hands tangling in your hair as she kisses you back, her voice a little less dramatic now and a lot more needy. “Oh, Doctor,” she murmurs, her tone shifting into something real, full of anticipation.

You grab the hem of Winter’s oversized shirt, lifting it slowly, and the sight of her bare thighs makes your breath hitch. But when you lift it higher and realize she’s not wearing panties, her pussy already glistening, you pause.

“Fuck, Winter,” you mutter, your eyes locked on her. “You’ve been walking around like this the whole time?”

She grins, her cheeks flushed but full of mischief. “Maybe. It's more practical to simply not wear panties around you.”

You slide a hand between her legs, your fingers brushing against her wetness, and she gasps, her hips jerking slightly. “Soaked,” you murmur, rubbing her gently. “You’re soaked already. You’ve been like this the whole time, haven’t you?”

“Since you walked in,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I’ve been dreaming about this cock since you got here.”

You lean in, kissing her hard while your fingers work her pussy, sliding along her slick folds. She moans into your mouth, her hands reaching down to grip your cock through your underwear. The pressure is just enough to make you groan, and she strokes you, slow and deliberate, her fingers wrapping around your length.

“Dreaming about me, huh?” you say, pulling back just enough to look at her flushed face. “Were you even sick, Winter?”

She hesitates, biting her lip before confessing, “Maybe… I'm not that sick.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “Yeah, I’m noticing that.”

Your fingers slide inside her, and she lets out a sharp gasp, her nails digging into your shoulders. She’s tight, hot, and so wet it’s almost obscene. You move slowly at first, curling your fingers just right, and her moans grow louder, her body arching into your touch.

But then you pull your fingers out, watching as they glisten with her slickness. Without a word, you bring them to her lips. “Suck,” you command softly.

Winter’s eyes widen slightly, but she obeys, parting her lips and taking your fingers into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around them, slow and sensual, and the sight of her makes your cock throb painfully.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” you mutter, watching the way her lips move, how she looks up at you like she’s daring you to lose control.

You pull your fingers from her mouth with a soft pop, her lips shiny with saliva, and you smirk. “Open your mouth,” you say, your voice rough.

She does as you ask, her lips parting slightly, and you spit, the act filthy and intimate. She takes it without hesitation, her tongue darting out to taste it before you lean in and kiss her hard, your hand gripping the back of her neck.

Your other hand comes up to her cheeks, holding her face as you pull back slightly. “Tell me,” you murmur, your thumb brushing over her flushed skin. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need.

“That’s not polite,” you say, smirking. “Ask nicely.”

Her eyes darken, and she bites her lip before speaking again. “Please, daddy. Please fuck me. I need you so bad. Please.”

You grin, leaning down to kiss her again before pulling back. “Lie down,” you command.

Winter obeys, sliding back on the bed until she’s lying flat, her legs spreading instinctively. You strip off your underwear, your cock springing free, hard and already leaking.

“Condom?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

She shakes her head, her lips curling into a sly smile. “You know we don’t need it.”

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. “I like to be polite.”

She giggles, her laughter soft and breathy. “You don’t look so polite when you’re fucking me like an animal.”

You climb onto the bed, positioning yourself between her legs, your cock brushing against her entrance. “And you love it,” you say, rubbing the head of your cock along her slick folds, teasing her.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her hips shifting as she tries to take you in. “Yes, I love it. Please, don’t tease me.”

You lean down, your lips brushing against her ear. “Then beg louder,” you murmur.

Winter’s whines turn into outright begging, her voice trembling as her hips tilt up, desperate to pull you in.

“Please,” she whimpers, her hands gripping the sheets. “Please, I need it so bad. I’ll be your little whore, I promise. I’ll be good, daddy. I’ll do whatever you say—just fuck me already.”

Her words make you grin, the filthy desperation in her voice hitting you in all the right places. You look down at her, her angelic face flushed with need, her wide, pleading eyes fixed on you, and you can’t help but marvel.

“How can you look so sweet,” you murmur, your voice low, “and be such a little slut at the same time?”

Winter moans at the words, her thighs trembling as she spreads her legs even wider. “I’m your slut,” she whispers. “Only yours. Please, please, don’t tease me anymore. I need you.”

“Yeah?” you growl, gripping her hips tightly. “You’re mine, huh? My needy little slut?”

“Yes, daddy,” she cries, her nails digging into the sheets as her head tilts back. “All yours. Please, just fuck me!”

You don’t make her wait another second. With one powerful thrust, you bury yourself inside her, all at once, hard and fast. The sheer heat and tightness of her pussy make you groan, your fingers digging into her hips as her scream of pleasure fills the room.

“Fuck, Winter,” you growl, barely able to hold yourself back. “You’re so fucking tight.”

She’s writhing beneath you, her back arching as her hands grab at your arms, her moans coming high-pitched and desperate. “Yes, yes, fuck—just like that!”

You don’t waste time easing into it. You pull back and slam into her again, setting a violent, unrelenting pace that has the bed creaking and her cries growing louder with every thrust. Her pussy clenches around you, slick and hot and perfect, pulling you deeper every time.

“Goddamn, you take it so good,” you growl, leaning over her as your hips snap against hers. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To get fucked like this?”

“Yes!” she screams, her nails raking down your back. “Yes, yes—fuck me harder! Use me, please!”

“You love being my slut, don’t you?”

“I love it,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “I fucking love it. I’ll do anything—just don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Her legs wrap around your waist, locking you in place as her body trembles beneath you. Her moans are constant, her cries mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin. The sight of her like this—messy, desperate, completely lost in you—only makes you go harder, driving into her like you’re trying to ruin her.

“You feel so fucking good,” you groan, your grip on her tightening as you pound into her mercilessly. “This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it? Made to be fucked like this?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Winter cries, her voice shaking as she clings to you. “It’s yours—only yours. Please, I can’t take it—please don’t stop!”

Your cock drives into her over and over, each thrust rougher, deeper, more unrelenting than the last. Winter’s high-pitched moans fill the room, her thighs trembling as her hips push up to meet yours, desperate for every inch you’re giving her.

You bring your hand up to her throat, wrapping your fingers around it, just enough for her to feel it. Winter gasps at the touch, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours, and her lips part in a soft, breathy moan.

“You like this, don’t you?” you growl.

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need. “I love it. I love how you make me feel.”

You smirk, leaning down slightly, your hand tightening just enough to make her breathing shallow. “You love being submissive, huh? Love being at my mercy?”

Her head tilts back, her eyes rolling slightly as she moans louder, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. “Yes,” she whimpers. “I love it. I love being yours.”

The sight of her—so completely lost in the pleasure, so willing to let you take control—sends a jolt of heat through you. You squeeze her throat a little harder, watching the way her body reacts instantly, her back arching as her pussy clenches around your cock.

“Fuck, Winter,” you mutter, your hips snapping against hers. “You’re so fucking perfect like this. You’re made to be my little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she cries, her voice strained but dripping with need. “I’m your slut—your good little slut. Please, don’t stop, daddy.”

You lean down further, your lips brushing against her ear as your hand stays firmly on her throat. “You like being choked, don’t you? Like how it feels when I take control?”

Her eyes roll back again, her body shuddering beneath you. “Yes, yes—I love it,” she gasps, her voice barely audible now. “Please, don’t stop. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Yeah?” you growl, your other hand gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks as you thrust into her relentlessly. “You’d do anything for me?”

“Yes,” she moans, her nails digging into your arms. “Anything. I just want to please you.”

You tighten your grip on her throat slightly, watching as her lips part in a silent cry, her body arching off the bed. The way she looks right now—eyes hazy, mouth open, completely at your mercy—drives you insane.

“Good girl,” you mutter, your pace never faltering. “You’re such a good little slut for me. Taking my cock so well.”

Her moans grow louder again, her body writhing beneath you as you push her closer and closer to that edge. But you’re not done yet—you want her completely undone, begging for more, completely yours.

Your cock slams into Winter’s soaking wet pussy with relentless force, the violent pace making her body bounce with each thrust. Her moans are high-pitched, desperate, and completely filthy, and you can feel the way she’s tightening around you, her body trembling as she gets closer and closer.

“I’m close,” she cries, her voice breaking, her nails clawing at the sheets. “Fuck, I’m so close!”

The moment the words leave her mouth, you slow down drastically, pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in painfully slow. Winter whines loudly, her hips trying to chase yours for more friction, but you grab her waist, holding her still.

“What did you just say?” you growl, your voice low and dangerous. “You don’t cum unless I say so.”

“Sorry, daddy,” she whimpers, her eyes squeezing shut as her hands grip the sheets tightly.

“Do you?” you challenge, raising your hand and slapping her cheek firmly, just the way you know drives her wild. Her head turns with the impact, her lips parting in a sharp gasp, and her eyes flutter open, looking at you with a mix of surprise and arousal.

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

“Louder,” you demand, your hand gripping her chin to make her face you. “Speak clearly when I’m talking to you.”

“Yes!” she cries, her voice louder now, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glazed over. “I understand. I’ll be good, I swear!”

“That’s better,” you mutter, giving her one more light slap for good measure.

Without another word, you lift her off the bed with ease, her small frame fitting perfectly in your hands. You reposition her so she’s sitting in your lap, her back pressed against your chest. The intimacy of the position contrasts sharply with the dominance in your touch as you slide back into her, burying yourself deep.

Winter lets out a choked cry, her hands grabbing at your thighs as you hold her firmly against you. Your chest presses against her back, your arms wrapping around her waist as you start to move again, slow and possessive this time.

“Fuck,” you mutter, your lips brushing against her ear. “You feel so fucking good like this. You’re mine, Winter. My good girl.”

“Yes,” she moans, her head falling back against your shoulder. “I’m yours. I’ll be good, daddy—I promise, I’ll be good for you.”

“You better,” you growl, your teeth grazing her neck as your hands roam over her body, gripping her hips and pulling her down onto your cock with each thrust. “If you want to cum, you’re gonna have to earn it. Be the perfect little slut for me.”

“I will,” she gasps, her body trembling against yours. “I’ll do anything for you. Just don’t stop.”

You hold her tighter, your thrusts growing faster, deeper, the angle making her whimper and cry out with every movement. Her head rolls against your shoulder, her lips brushing against your neck as her hands grip your thighs desperately.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” you murmur, your voice rough with lust. “You take me so well. You were made for this, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” she cries, her voice breaking. “Made for you. Only for you.”

Your cock drives into Winter slowly, each deliberate thrust making her squirm in your lap. Her back is pressed tightly against your chest, her flushed skin damp with sweat, and her whines are soft and desperate, filling the room like music. You can feel how badly she wants it—the way her pussy clenches around you, her hips trying to push down to take you deeper. But you don’t let her.

Instead, your hand slides up to her throat, fingers wrapping around her delicate neck, and you give her a firm squeeze. She gasps at the contact, her head tilting back against your shoulder, exposing her throat to you.

“You really like this, don’t you?” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “The way I fuck you. The way I tease you.”

“Yes, daddy,” she whimpers, her hands gripping your arms for support. “I love it. I love everything about it.”

You squeeze her throat a little tighter, your lips brushing against her ear. “You sure about that?” you ask, your thrusts slowing even more, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in agonizingly slow. “Because if you’re not, I can stop. I won’t let you cum.”

“No!” Winter cries, her voice high-pitched and panicked. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

You chuckle darkly, your free hand sliding down to grip her hip, keeping her firmly in place as you continue your slow, deliberate pace. “Then tell me,” you growl. “Tell me how much you love this cock.”

“I love it,” she whines, her voice trembling with need. “I love your big, thick cock. I love the way it fills me up, the way it drives me crazy.”

Your cock twitches at her words, and you tighten your grip on her throat just enough to make her gasp. “Yeah?” you murmur, your tone still teasing. “You love the way I fuck you, don’t you? The way I make you beg like this?”

“Yes, yes,” she moans, her head rolling back against your shoulder. “I love it so much. You make me feel so good—so fucking good.”

You smirk, your lips grazing her jawline. “You’re not just saying that, are you?” you ask, your hand flexing around her throat. “Because if you’re lying, Winter, I swear I’ll stop right now.”

Her body shudders, and she turns her head slightly to look at you, her eyes glassy with desire. “I swear,” she says, her voice breaking. “It’s true. I love it. I love the way you fuck me. Please don’t stop, daddy. Please, let me cum.”

You study her for a moment, her trembling body, her wide, pleading eyes, the way her voice shakes with desperation. There’s no denying how much she means it, how much she needs this.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your grip on her throat easing slightly as you press a kiss to her cheek. “You’ve been so good for me.”

Winter moans softly, her hands tightening on your arms. “Does that mean I can cum?” she asks, her voice hopeful and needy.

“Not yet,” you reply, your smirk growing. “But soon. I’ll make sure it’s worth it.”

Your hands move up from Winter’s waist to her chest, cupping her small breasts as you start to squeeze and knead them. Her soft moans grow louder, her nipples hardening against your palms as you gradually pick up the pace, your cock sliding deeper and harder into her with every thrust.

“You like this?” you growl, your lips brushing against her ear as you whisper. “You like how I fill you up, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, her voice trembling. “I love it. I love how deep you are. Please, don’t stop.”

Your fingers pinch her nipples, twisting just enough to make her gasp, and you lean in closer, your breath hot against her ear. “I’m gonna fuck you every day,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “Every chance I get. I’m gonna make you scream so loud the neighbors’ll know exactly how good I fuck you.”

Winter shudders in your arms, her head tilting back against your shoulder as a moan tears from her lips. “Fuck,” she cries, her nails digging into the sheets. “I’d let you. I’d let you ruin me every fucking day.”

The way she says it, so shameless and raw, makes your cock twitch inside her. You smirk, gripping her hips tightly as you pull out slowly, savoring the way her pussy clings to you. Then you shove her forward, letting her fall onto her hands and knees.

“Get on all fours,” you command, your voice rough with need.

Winter scrambles into position, her pale little ass sticking up, her glistening pink pussy on full display for you. She looks back over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed and her lips parted as she waits.

“Good girl,” you murmur, stroking her ass lightly before positioning yourself behind her.

Her pussy is already full of creamy slickness, and when you slide back into her, the wet, obscene sound it makes drives you wild. “Shit,” you groan, your hands gripping her hips as you start to fuck her hard, the bed creaking beneath you.

Winter’s moans grow louder, turning into screams as you pound into her, your cock hitting her deep and fast. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” you growl, your hips slamming against her ass. “So wet and messy for me.”

Her cries are almost incoherent, her body jerking forward with each thrust. “Yes! Yes! Fuck me harder!” she begs, her voice breaking.

Your gaze drops to her ass, watching the way it bounces with every thrust. Her tight little hole quite inviting as you fuck her, so pink and tempting. You reach out, rubbing your thumb against it in slow, deliberate circles.

Winter gasps, her head snapping up as her back arches. “Oh my God,” she moans, her voice trembling. “Yes, touch me there—please, more!”

You keep rubbing, teasing her hole with your thumb as your cock slams into her harder, deeper. “You like that?” you growl, watching the way her body responds to every touch.

“Yes,” she cries, her hips pushing back against you. “I love it—don’t stop, please!”

Your grip on Winter’s hips tightens as you pick up the pace, your cock slamming into her soaking pussy harder and faster. Her screams are music to your ears, high-pitched and raw, echoing off the walls. Her ass bounces against you with every thrust, the creamy slickness of her pussy making every movement wet and obscene.

At the same time, your thumb continues massaging her tight, virgin asshole, slow, deliberate circles that make her body shudder beneath you. Her moans turn breathless, desperate, her hips twitching as she pushes back against your hand.

“You like it when I play with your ass, don’t you?” you growl, leaning forward slightly, your breath hot against the back of her neck.

“Yes,” Winter moans, her voice trembling with need. “Fuck, yes—I love it!”

“You’re such a fucking slut,” you snarl, your thumb pressing more firmly against her entrance. “Getting off on me fucking your pussy and playing with your ass at the same time. That’s what you are—a needy little slut.”

“Yes,” she cries, her voice breaking. “I’m your slut—only yours. Please, don’t stop!”

You grin, knowing how much she loves hearing you call her that, and you feel her pussy clench tighter around you, her body trembling as she edges closer to the brink.

“I’m close,” she warns, her voice shaky and frantic. “Fuck, I’m so close!”

Your pace becomes brutal, your hips slamming against her ass as you drive into her harder, deeper, faster. At the same time, you press harder on her asshole, teasing her entrance with your thumb.

“You’re gonna cum with my finger in your ass, aren’t you?” you growl.

“Yes!” she screams, her voice raw. “Yes, yes—please, make me cum! I need it!”

You smirk, pushing your thumb in slowly, just enough to stretch her a little, and her reaction is instant. Her back arches sharply, and she lets out a guttural moan, her nails clawing at the sheets.

“Fuck, Winter,” you groan, your cock driving into her harder as your thumb moves slightly inside her. “You’re so fucking tight everywhere. Such a perfect little slut for me.”

Her cries grow louder, her body shaking violently as she teeters on the edge. “I’m gonna cum—I’m gonna fucking cum!” she screams, her voice echoing through the room.

“Do it,” you growl, your grip on her tightening as you fuck her relentlessly, your thumb pressing deeper. “Cum for me. Let me feel it.”

Winter’s entire body tenses, her head snapping back as a scream tears from her throat, so loud it’s a miracle the neighbors don’t start banging on the walls. Her pussy clamps down on your cock, her hips jerking uncontrollably as her orgasm crashes over her, wave after wave of pleasure leaving her shaking and gasping for air.

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling the way her body spasms around you, completely undone.

Her cries eventually fade into soft whimpers, her body going limp beneath you as she collapses onto the bed, her chest heaving. You pull out slowly, your thumb sliding from her ass, and you smirk as you watch her shiver from the aftershocks.

“You’re fucking perfect,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to her back.

You hold Winter close against your chest, showering her neck and shoulders with tender kisses as she catches her breath. Her body is still trembling from the intense orgasm you just gave her, her pussy dripping wet and sensitive. You stroke her hair gently while whispering in her ear.

"Such a good girl for daddy, cumming so hard on my cock like that. You're perfect, baby."

Winter preens under the praise, a proud smile spreading across her flushed face. She's never experienced pleasure this intense before - her whole body is still tingling from the force of her climax. Your words make her feel cherished and special.

"The neighbors definitely heard what a naughty girl you are," you tease, making her bury her face in the mattress with an embarrassed whimper. Her ass wiggles enticingly as she squirms.

"I bet they heard every single moan and scream while I was pounding your tight little pussy. Now everyone knows what a dirty girl you are for daddy.”

Winter's embarrassment only makes her more aroused. She can feel your hard cock still buried deep inside her, and she desperately wants to make you feel as good as you made her feel.

"Please daddy," she whimpers needily, turning her head to look at you with big innocent eyes. "I want to make you cum now. Will you...will you cum in my ass?"

Your cock twitches inside her at those filthy words coming from such a sweet mouth. Hearing your innocent submissive good girl beg for anal makes your head spin with lust.

"Is that what you want, baby? You want daddy to fill up your tight little asshole with cum?" You give her ass a firm squeeze.

"Yes daddy, please," she moans. "After you played with my ass, I can't stop thinking about having you inside me there. I want to feel your hot cum filling me up."

"Fuck, you're such a dirty girl," you growl, your cock hardening even more. "Begging daddy to cum in your virgin ass like a little anal slut."

Winter whimpers and pushes her ass back against you needily. "Please daddy, keep fucking my pussy and when you're about to cum, just put the tip in my ass and fill me up. I want to feel it so bad."

"Stay right there on your stomach like a good girl," you command, repositioning yourself between her spread legs. Your cock is still buried in her dripping pussy, and you start thrusting again at a steady pace.

Winter moans and arches her back, presenting her ass to you perfectly. "Does daddy like my tight little holes? They're all yours to fill up however you want."

Her dirty talk drives you wild and you pick up the pace, fucking her pussy harder. "Keep talking like that baby, tell daddy what a naughty anal slut you are.”

"I'm your anal slut daddy," she pants between moans. "I want you to stretch my virgin asshole and fill it with your hot cum. I've been such a good girl, please give me my reward."

You spread her plump ass cheeks apart with both hands, exposing her tiny pink asshole. The sight of that tight virgin hole makes your cock throb with need. You start fucking her pussy even faster, your heavy balls slapping against her clit.

"Look at this perfect little asshole," you growl. "So tight and pretty, just begging to be filled with daddy's cum. You want it bad don't you baby?"

"Yes daddy, please! I need it so bad," Winter begs shamelessly. "Cum deep in my ass, mark me as yours. I want to feel your hot cum dripping out of me."

Her filthy words push you closer to the edge. You spread her ass wider, watching your cock slide in and out of her soaked pussy while her tight asshole clenches and relaxes invitingly.

"Such a dirty little anal virgin," you pant. "Begging daddy to take your ass and fill you up. I'm going to cum so deep inside that tight hole."

Winter's moans get louder and more desperate. "Please daddy, I'm ready for you. Put it in my ass and fill me up with your cum. I want to be your anal slut."

You can feel your orgasm building as you pound her pussy relentlessly. Her tight walls squeeze your cock perfectly while she continues begging for anal.

"Daddy please, I need your cum in my ass so bad. Make me your anal princess. Fill up my virgin hole."

When you're right on the edge, you pull out of her dripping pussy. With one hand you spread her ass cheek wide, exposing her tiny pink hole. With the other, you guide the head of your cock to press against her virgin entrance.

The tight ring of muscle resists at first, but then the head of your cock pops inside her ass. The incredible tightness sends you over the edge instantly. Winter cries out as she feels your hot cum start flooding her virgin asshole.

"Fuck baby, taking daddy's cum so deep in your ass," you groan as you empty your balls inside her. "Such a good anal slut for me."

Winter moans and shivers as she feels each hot spurt of cum filling her ass. The head of your cock stays snugly buried in her incredibly tight hole as you finish cumming.

When you finally pull out, your cum immediately starts leaking from her stretched asshole. You spread both of her cheeks wide apart to watch the erotic sight of your white cum dripping down toward her pussy.

"Look how pretty your ass looks leaking daddy's cum," you praise her. "Such a perfect little anal princess."

Winter whimpers and wiggles her ass. "Thank you daddy. I loved feeling you cum in my ass."

You continue admiring the view of your cum trickling from her freshly-fucked hole. Her virgin ass took you so well, stretching perfectly around the head of your cock.

"We're definitely doing that again baby," you tell her, giving her ass a playful smack. "Now daddy knows what a naughty anal slut you can be."

Winter blushes but smiles proudly, happy to have pleased you. She can still feel your hot cum inside her ass, marking her as yours.

You lay down beside her and pull her into your arms, peppering her face with soft kisses. She snuggles against your chest contentedly while your cum continues slowly leaking from her ass.

"Such a good girl for daddy," you murmur. "Taking my cock in your virgin ass like that. Did you like having daddy's cum filling you up?"

"Yes daddy," she says shyly. "It felt so naughty but so good. I loved feeling you cum inside me."

You stroke her hair and hold her close, letting her bask in the afterglow of her first anal experience. Her body is completely relaxed against yours, thoroughly satisfied.

"Next time I'll fuck that tight ass properly," you promise. "Really stretch you open and fill you with cum over and over."

Winter shivers with arousal at your words. "Yes please daddy. I want to be your anal slut whenever you want."

You spend the next little while cuddling and exchanging soft kisses, your hands roaming over her curves possessively. Winter occasionally squirms as she feels more of your cum trickling from her ass.

"Should we get cleaned up baby?" you ask after a while, noticing the mess of cum between her legs.

"Not yet," she says, clinging to you. "I like feeling your cum inside me. Makes me feel like I'm yours."

You smile and kiss her forehead. "You are mine baby. My perfect little anal princess."

—

You sit across from Winter at a small café table, the sunlight spilling through the large windows and catching the golden streaks in her blonde hair. She’s wearing a light yellow sundress that flares out just above her knees, a little bow tied at the waist. The dress shows just enough skin to drive you crazy while still looking effortlessly cute. Her white sneakers complete the look, giving her an innocent, casual charm that feels so uniquely hers.

Winter’s playful smile is fixed on you, her chin propped on her hand as she stirs her iced coffee lazily with a straw. She’s got that look, the one that says she knows something you don’t. Probably feeling like she’s already won whatever unspoken game you’re playing.

“You’re really feeling better?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you take a sip of your drink.

She nods, her grin widening. “Completely cured.”

“You sure? Because you got better awfully fast. Makes me wonder if you were even sick in the first place.”

Winter lets out a soft laugh, twirling the straw between her fingers. “That’s because of you,” she says, batting her lashes mockingly. “You were such good… medicine.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Medicine, huh? Pretty sure I broke a few ethical guidelines as your doctor.”

“Yeah, well,” she teases, leaning forward slightly, “I’m not complaining.”

She looks too damn proud of herself, and you can’t resist poking at her.

“Hey, you spilled some coffee on the table,” you say, pointing to where she spilled it.

“Oh, you're right! Hand me a napkin.”

You pick up a napkin and slide it toward her. “Here. Do you clean by yourself or do you want daddy to help you?” you ask, purposely raising your voice a little.

The shift is instant. Winter’s playful confidence crumbles as her cheeks turn bright red, her eyes darting around the café to make sure no one heard.

“Are you insane?” she hisses, grabbing the napkin and glaring at you. “Don’t say things like that in public!”

You chuckle, leaning your elbows on the table. “Why not? You seemed to love it in bed yesterday. Hell, you couldn’t stop saying it.”

Her face gets even redder, and she throws the napkin back at you, hitting you square in the chest. “I was dying of embarrassment even leaving the house today!” she exclaims. “I’m pretty sure the neighbors really heard everything.”

Your laughter only makes her more flustered, and you lean back, grinning. “Hey, you asked for it. Literally.”

Winter groans, burying her face in her hands for a moment before peeking out at you. “You’re insufferable.”

“You chose the insufferable,” you say smoothly.

She tries to hold her annoyed expression, but a small smile slips through. “Whatever,” she mutters, picking up her coffee again.

“So,” you say after a moment, tilting your head. “You gonna call me daddy again later?”

Winter glances up at you, her lips twitching as she tries not to smile too much. “Yeah,” she says softly, her eyes meeting yours. “I love calling you that.”

There’s a moment of silence, charged but comfortable, before you clear your throat. “Anyway, why’d you pick this café again? There are like, fifty others places we could’ve gone to.”

Winter shrugs, stirring her drink again. “Last time didn’t count.”

“Didn’t count?”

She looks up at you, her expression soft but serious. “You dodged all my questions last time. You didn’t even seem like you wanted to be there.”

The guilt hits you instantly, and you exhale, leaning forward. “Yeah, I… I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t you, though. It’s just…” You pause, lowering your head. “You already know the reason.”

Winter nods. “I know. But it still kind of sucked.”

You nod, meeting her gaze. “You’re right. It did. I didn’t handle it well, and I’m sorry. But I’m here now. And this time, I won’t run.”

Her smile grows, slow and genuine, lighting up her entire face. “You promise?”

“Promise,” you say softly.

Winter leans forward, resting her chin in her hand again, her grin turning playful once more. “Good. Because I wasn’t gonna let you run anyway.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, I’m starting to figure that out.”

For the first time in a long time, you feel it—something steady, something warm. Maybe this time it’s worth the risk. Especially with her.

[ddlydevotion]

PEARL NECKLACE

nsfw remmick headcanons

a/n: this wasn’t written with solely white audiences in mind, I know a lot of people have been worried about that when it comes to Sinners fanfiction. I’m Afro-Latina so you don’t have to worry about that here lol. Mentions of stretch marks.

Okay, don't hit me when I say this but I know for a fact that this man doesn't shave. I can't imagine him being all bare down there, are you kidding me? He definitely trims himself when the time calls for it but doesn't do anything more aside from that.

He couldn't care less if you're rocking a full bush. He'd probably smile out of how silly the situation is. Here's a man who feeds on the blood of the living in order to survive and you think he cares about some hair.

I forgot who said it first so if you know their @ please drop it in the comments, but I fully agree on the sentiment that Remmick would be completely desperate when it comes to you. He'd balance a bottle of Jack on his head if it meant you'd let him taste you. He'll paw at your thighs and look up at you with pleading, furrowed brows when you stop his attempt at lifting your skirt up.

He drools on your pussy.

His cock almost slips out of your pussy because of how wet you are, his thick drool mixing with your leaking wetness. He grabs the base of his cock, running it up your slit before slapping it on your swollen, fat clit, the impact leaving a wet plap! ring in the air.

" Shhh it's okay theree ya go, sweetheart, let me put it back in for you. Ya gonna take it for me?" he presses his forehead onto yours before whispering "ya promise?" against your flushed lips, his eyes never leaving yours.

He prefers to cum inside of you rather than anywhere else on your body. It's not about him wanting to avoid making a mess because this man gets fucking nasty. He just loves knowing that you're filled with him, that he's leaking from your swollen pussy. When he's about to cum he settles his hips flush against yours, his head finding a home in the crook of your neck. You swear you hear him whine as he moves his hips in tight circles, savoring the feeling of your gummy walls around his pulsing cock, his cum leaking from where the two of you are joined & down onto the bed.

he spreads you open with his thumbs, your throbbing clit and glistening pussy greeting him, and he has his very own way of greeting 'her' back.

Remmick definitely has a habit of talking to your pussy and referring to it as she and her. "Look at all that, baby. She missed me, huh? Look'a me, ya know you can't lie to me."

"Oh sweetheart, look at you. Gonna milk my cock? Thereee she is, there you go."

He'd definitely want you to sit on his face. His strong hands grip the globes of your ass in an attempt to bury his face even further in your pussy. If he notices you're holding back on him, he'll look you right in the eyes before saying, "sit. I told'ya to sit.", his words being slightly muffled by your plush thighs.

The two of you hardly leave the bedroom when you're on your period. He nearly drools at the sight of your tender tits, the stretch marks lining them appearing to be even more prominent. The sight of his lips covered in blood as he peaks at you from in between your thighs is enough to make you mewl, your eyes glazing over.

I'd say his aftercare mainly consists of pillow talk. He'll tuck you into his side and sling his defined arm over your shoulder. He'll look down at you with a small smile painting his face while checking in on you but not without letting out a teasing remark or two. "That wasn't too much, was it? I dunno, thought you were gonna pass out on me" (this part was inspired by @spikedfearn)

[drgnflyteabox]

the lusty cabin-dweller

pairing: ghost / Simon riley x fem reader summary: your life gets wider when you find an injured man outside of your cabin. tags/warnings: Skyrim!ghost, secrets, graphic injuries, some angst, facial injuries, nursing Simon back to health one stew at a time <3, listen to this for the vibes, vaginal + anal sex, oral (f), animal attacks, blood, processing an animal for meat and fur, violence, death (non-major), mention of Skyrim racism, softdom!Simon, some backstory, please hmu if i forgot anything, one bed trope, simon backstory adapted to skyrim lol (so past abuse, murder, theft, domstic violence) but nothing graphic w.c: 5k

Honey-nut is squealing again. Some days you think she might not be worth the milk and cheese she gives you for all the trouble she causes. A high, strange bleating cuts through the chilled night air like a knife, sharp and terrifying only for a moment.

She's been at this since Frostfall. Maybe it was the weather causing Honey-nut distress - she was getting old, after all. For a goat.

In the time it takes you to trudge out of bed, pull on a wool shift and a fur, two things happen: one, Honey-nut stops bleating, and the woods surrounding your cottage becomes deathly silent.

Two, a crunch.

Just one, but it's enough. Someone is outside.

For a brief, hysterical moment, you worry for Honey-nuts safety. Have they hurt her to be quiet? No, you'd have heard that at least. Your breath comes fast, chest squeezing. Bandits? Probably not. It's a decent hike up to your wooden cottage. But it is nearing winter, and soon it will be Sun's Dusk. It's not unheard of that they'd be looking for a place to take over for the colder months.

Your hand goes to your heart, fingertips touching your throat. Be calm, you tell yourself. You aren't helpless, look. The axe, leaning by your front door. You can see in the dark well enough, and you're more familiar with your homestead than they are.

The axe feels right in your hands. Too-familiar, weighty, deadly. You touch your ear to the door, trying to reign in your fear. Nothing. Then, a wheeze, strangled and restrained like whoever it is can't afford to be heard. But you have heard it, and you push the door open.

"Show yourself!" You shout, voice surer than you feel. Your knees quake a little, but your grip on the axe is strong.

The animal pen is a mere few steps away from your front door. Past the front garden, it's wide open aside from the little shelter you built the past Mid Year. A foot sticks out, clad in armor.

"I'm armed," you add. "You're not getting anything from me!" The world is dark, the woods quiet. Adrenaline burns in you, bright enough to guide your steps.

"You gonna kill me with that, girl?"

Gruff voice, like scraping rocks. Coming into view, you see that this man poses no threat. He's half dead, slumped and pale, clutching his side.

"Who are you? What's your business here?" The axe is a deterrent, now. Just for show. You hold it above him, but nearly drop it when you see his face. It's sliced right through the middle, from his forehead to his jaw. "Oh, gods-"

"Mind yourself with that," his eyes flit to the axe. "Or put me out of my misery now."

Your shoulders dip down, lowering your weapon. Guilt crawls into your belly and settles there when you notice that yes- his feet are armored, but the rest of him is dressed in miners attire. White, coal-dusted shirt. Workman's pants, tucked into woolen calf wraps. God, he must be freezing. Maybe that's saved his life, staunched the bloodflow. It's tacky on him, not shining wet like you expected.

"What's happened to you?" You cringe at the sound of your voice. It's gone from fierce defensiveness to cloying concern, staring only at the blood staining his skin.

He breathes hard, staring at you a moment. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, what he's feeling. Outside of obvious pain. Leaves around you shiver in the breeze, a light snow beginning to fall when he finally speaks.

"Bandits," he grunts. "An ambush." Every word is a fight, a wheeze. Empathy drives away caution and you drop your weapon in favour of kneeling beside him.

"Come on, then. Let me help you," lifting him is a monumental task, even with him helping. He's as big as horse, thick as one too. Legs like tree trucks that hold him up just barely, feet sliding weakly on the uneven ground.

Looking back, Honey-nut watches you bring him through the doorway with a judgmental twinkle in her eye. Maybe it's time for goatherd pie.

///

Your bed is too small. His feet hang off comically, and the wood creaks under his weight. It'll have to do. Your mother would have beaten you black and blue for this - for inviting a stranger in, for settling him in your bed without so much as a what’s your name? But you know how to stitch and turning away someone in as bad a shape as he is would weigh on your conscience.

You light the sconces along the wall, and then a lantern to keep by his bedside. Warm, orange light fills the cottage, flickering every so often, inspiring calm.

"I'm no healer," you warn him. "Nor an alchemist." It’s not necessarily a lie. You had done a brief stint as a volunteer for the temple of Kynareth, lending your hands and your time to help nurse wounded soldiers. There had been supervision then, though. Guidance.

"I’m shit out of luck for choices, sweetheart,” his facial wound leaks a little when he speaks, blood running down the side of his face in thin rivulets. The wound at his side, however, is what worries you the most.

“Let me,” you murmur. Your fingers find the edge of his shirt, pulling them out of his pants, and up, up, gently. Looking him in the eye, watching his pain win over his weariness.

Another gash, swaddled in cloth wrapped sloppily around his middle. Without moving him you have to cut them off, slicing off his shirt at the same time. This one bleeds sluggishly, skin shredded, like he’d been dragged over coarse rock.

He words slur, energy leaving him. Mumbles under his breath things you can’t make out, and don’t try to. You’re busy rinsing, cleaning, and patting his ribs dry. Tensing every so often, he breathes hard through his nose to offset the pain. Mumbles some more, hands making fists.

It’s bad, but he’ll live. Exhaustion might trump over all, anyhow, what with how his eyelids have begun closing. Through the slit of them his eyes are pale, like sunlight through deep blue ice. Blonde lashes, stark against the dirt and coal smearing his skin.

You work in silence, letting him sleep through this one so he’ll hopefully be unconscious for the work you have yet to do on his face.

“Who did this?” You whisper to no one. You’re a breeze in the night, alone, hunched over this man and wiping his face with a cloth.

Clear of blood and grime, you gather a sewing needle and dip it into the lantern flame. Stitching is easy, but on his face? You falter a moment, worried, until you think of how proud men often are of their scars. Boasting battles won and creatures slain.

It’s that thought that pushes you through to the end, weaving the needle through until he's sewn and clean of blood.

///

Sweat and iron. The smell of it, sharp and salty, sea foam and earth, is the first thing you're aware of.

Then, the light of morning. Pale, almost white, invading through the windows in rays. A chill. Your eyes open with a not insignificant amount of effort, back twinging in different places as you become aware of the world again.

"Awake?" You startle, jerking up. It's the man from the night before, laying as he was, a little curled against the pain and big as an ox. "W's startin' t'think you'd sleep all day."

"It's morning, is it not?" You're not used to talking this early - or at all. "How's the- how are you feeling?"

He grunts, shuffling. His wrapped side has some blood peeking through, little spots of leakage, not enough to lose your head over. His face has swelled some overnight though, and you're awake enough now to hear the muffled quality to his voice. Part of the cut pulls his upper lip tightly. You wince.

"Just wait. I have something for the," you pause, crossing your space on stiff legs to find the bookshelf. Clay pots, glass bottles, books. Ah, here it is. "For the pain." It's some elixir. Purchased the last time you'd made the trek to Markarth from Muiri, the alchemists apprentice. It brings forth a distant memory of pain, of twisting your ankle running after Honey-nut.

Your ankle hadn't quite healed right, but this was good for when winter came and stiffness made the pain worse again.

He eyes you wearily as you approach. Suspiciously. As if you haven't been helping him out of the kindness of your heart…

"This will help," a promise.

"Don't need'it." He slurs, then cringes as it pulls his lip again.

"You'll recover faster if you're in less pain."

In the end he acquiesces, if not just to take the edge of the purpling that's beginning to show on the edges of his bandage. Broken ribs, maybe?

///

Chores need to be done whether or not there's an obstinate patient in your bed. Honey-nut needs to be milked, and she fights you every step of the way. You discover her pen open from last night and sigh with relief that she's still there.

The chickens have laid eggs for you, and you collect them diligently in your apron. Then, the garden. And finally a sweep of your traps in the woods.

Just one rabbit, but it's enough. You hope the man likes stew, and that his swelling goes down enough for him to tell you his name.

///

He tells you his name is Ghost. Strange, but you've heard stranger. Maybe he's a follower of Namira, you wonder not without an inkling of apprehension. Ghost is quiet, even as he heals. After you'd made yourself a straw bed on the other side of the cabin, you'd wake to him sitting up and stretching. Testing himself. Always silent.

The exhaustion was the worst of it. One nearly empty bottle of elixir later, the swelling on his face has gone down significantly. His ribs sore but on the mend. It was sleep that he needed, and lots of it.

Days passed like this. Switching bandages, wiping and cleaning, cooking enough stew for two. Nearly a week until he was up and about insisting to help around the cottage.

"No need," you tried to gently push him back into the warmth of the open door. He was too big, and having none of it. "You'll be better in no time."

He was just so tall. Were he to stand still at your doorway, half his face would be covered by the top of it. Despite his condition, you could tell that your initial comparison to a horse was completely on the nose. Stocky as a boar, arms thick as mammoth tusks. Hairy like blonde wheat shining in the sun. You'd noticed as much, watching him rest, watching his eyelashes flutter on his cheeks as he dreamt.

///

Ghost works like you're paying him in gold. He sweats, arms swinging down over and over again above the chopping block. There's enough wood to last three winters now - maybe four. Every job he takes is finished to excess. Your roof has never looked better, re-thatched in rotting places and swept clear of mildew. The old wood fence in your garden? Replaced.

Honey-nut finds her new favourite person when he dismantles what he calls shoddy work, and rebuilds her a shelter twice as big. The chickens are still weary, but enjoy receiving the kitchen scraps he tosses.

"There's really no need for all this," you insist again, because he's come back this afternoon with an elk on his back.

"Didn't need to fix me up, either, did'ya?"

You break it down together. Ghost does the harder part, while you take cuts of meat to dry for jerky. The rest will go into a venison casserole, with juniper berries.

"Hey- Ghost?" You call. He's skinning the rest of it for furs. "I'm off to gather some berries for dinner."

A nod, and you're off.

Your basket is old, woven, carried once by your mother and now you. Silly, but special all the same. It's stained with many years of berry collecting, many years of winter nights spent tucking into fruity crostatas or summers full of juniper mead.

The hills are rife with the low, rough trees. They grow like weeds here in the Reach, mountain pocked with patches of light green and little blue berries. Once, as a child, you'd made the mistake of eating one straight off the branch. Bitter as burnt coffee, it was lesson you'd learned through tears of laughter with your mother. A happy memory.

Does Ghost have a family? You wonder again about him, about why a man like that is wasting his time mining. He could've climbed the ranks as an imperial and been a General or - divines forbid - a stormcloak. You prayed he wasn't so craven as to follow Ulfric and his band of Nord supremacists.

It's this distraction that leads you right into the waiting jaws of a sabre cat. Quick and silent, it reminds you of your patient for an absurd moment before you're tripping backwards, basket full of berries scattered and forgotten. Your hip makes contact with the ground hard, pain lancing through your joint like a spear.

Fuck, how could you be so stupid? This was a mountain, leagues away from the nearest town. Sabres, bears, wolves. You'd always, always used awareness as a first precaution. Sight, sounds, keeping your ears tuned to the slightest crack in a twig. If not, there was the bow and arrow stowed away under your bed.

Now, you were caught unawares. Muscles under it's fur rippled, a low growl in it's barrel chest, creeping toward you. Adrenaline burned through you like a fever, hot and electric all at once, freezing you in place by the weight of your heart in your stomach.

Stendarr's mercy, dying from an animal attack after living years on the craggy peaks of the mountains, avoiding ambushes and robberies. Living on goats cheese and chicken eggs, nothing yet achieved. What a waste. Miserable, hopeless tears prick at your eyes. Your breath leaves you in quick, desperate puffs. Running wasn't an option - it would only encourage the sabre. Sovngarde, here you come-

"Aaarghgh aaaaa!" A roar. Loud, ringing in your ears, as fierce as a cave bear. It's Ghost, jumping through the brush towards you with his arms above his head. "Bugger off!" He's screaming loud, voice cracking a little, the stitches at his lip tearing just enough for droplets of blood to fall.

"I'll put you down!" It's nonsense, but it's loud, and he's massive. Taller than the sabre even if it stood on two legs. When he reaches you, he steps in front of you. Shields you.

The face-off is likely less than a few minutes, but it feels like time moves as slow as honey. Ghost faces of the sabre, screaming like a madman, beating his chest and waving his arms. It creeps backward, hissing and fighting, but is cowed by his stance and size.

When it's disappeared through the maze of juniper trees, he turns to you. Extends a palm rough like bark.

"How long have you lived here, again?" His voice grates as usual, made worse by his shouting.

Your face heats in embarrassment. "A few years. I'm not usually so distracted," you dust your dress, patting yourself. Twigs and dirt fall from the wool. "I swear. I got lost picking berries."

He snorts, like you're stupid. You feel stupid.

The basket is half empty when you call it quits, tired from fear. Ghost is hunched beside you, holding his ribs again, rubbing his lip almost compulsively.

"Stop that, you'll get a thicker scar," you reach for his elbow.

"Don't care much about that, love," he shrugs your hand away.

Dinner is made in silence. It's a miracle you have the energy, but while you're physically drained your mind is running in circles. You watch with concern as he sits gingerly back on the bed. The pain in your hip pulses with sympathy, pulsing heat travelling down your leg and up your back.

"Need me to take a look at anything?" Besides his obvious discomfort, you'll have to fix his face back up. You'd prefer for him to be in a welcoming mood.

"I can handle it," Mr Stoic over here. "Did'ya take a fall?"

You drop dried frost mirriam into chopped, boiled potatoes. Then a pad of butter.

"Yes, but I'm alright," the cream sauce comes together, ladled over the venison. You're out of eidar cheese, but Honey-nuts goat cheese crumbled over everything is perfectly fine. Ghost eats like a furnace taking coal, anyhow.

"Let me see," he's up close. Again, you've been taken unawares. A sharp inhale like a gasp, heart beat picking up, breathing in the smell of him. It's gone from bloody to pine, to earth, to fresh wood. His hands find your hip and you hiss, trying to jerk away. In doing so you press your side into his chest, curled close, warm not just from the fire. "It's alright, sweet girl." He murmurs into the top of your head.

This tenderness is new. His fingers are as gentle as you've seen them in the last few weeks, pulling up the thick skirts of your dress and assessing the tender skin. It's a little hot to the touch, painful. The rough pad of his thumb brushes against you softly, making you whine.

His lips brush your hair, not quite kissing you, but affectionate nonetheless. You're close enough to see his throat bob when he swallows.

"Just a bump, huh, sweet girl?" He takes over, mashing the potatoes, setting out plates at your little wooden table, guiding you by your lower back.

You eat in relative silence, thighs brushing, a tension bubbling to the surface like stew on the fire. He spares you a few glances between bites, still wincing whenever he has to bend down.

"I'll take a look at that again before bed," you speak through a mouthful of creamy venison.

Sure enough, he's reopened some of his stitches. Not worst case scenario, but you spend a few minutes hunched over and bandaging him up again. He stares at you intently, eyes so clear and focused you wish he wouldn't. It makes your hand shake.

Moving to get up and back to your straw bed, his arm shoots out as quick as an arrow and takes your wrist in his hand. His stare is the same, squinting at you like he's waiting for you to confess something. Like he's waiting for you to give in.

"You're not sleeping on the floor," he says, sure, chest puffed. "Not with your hip. Come on now, come lay down." Gently, he tugs you down. Protests make it to the tip of your tongue and nowhere else, not with the promise of a mattress on your sore muscles and screaming hip.

It's too small though, much too small. Already he was hanging off, shoulders taking up the entire width. You curl forward, on your good side, facing away from him and into the dark. The cabin is still warm from cooking dinner.

His breath puffs on the back of your neck, hand finding your arm and stroking up and down. Soothing you. He curls around you, following the natural bend of your body.

"Simon," he whispers.

Your brow almost touches your hairline. "That's not my name."

"No," his reply is half spoken, half physical. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, bicep under you, cradling you, his big bear paw hugging your shoulder. A stray pinky ventures dangerously close to your nipple, fingers spread. "It's mine."

The world widens. "Yours?" You breathe in, out. It's trust, is what it is. He's giving you a piece of himself, this stranger, for you to hold. "Simon," you taste it in your mouth. "Simon."

He laughs against your hair. "Was watching you," he confesses. "After we got- after the ambush. Walked for days, till I found you."

"How long did you watch?" You're curious, if not a little suspicious. "You weren't casing it, were you?"

"No, nothing like that. Couldn't keep walking," he sighs loud like a dog. "Hadn't eaten, hadn't drank. Needed to know if you were somewhere I could stay."

"That's why Honey-nut was losing her mind," the realization is half funny, half scary. By the eight, you really hadn't noticed someone living so close-by for so long?

"Honey-nut?"

"You've met her, Simon. She's the goat."

"Ah," he snorts. "I've been calling her Molag-Bal, for how she's got us in the palm of her hand."

"Simon!" You shriek with laughter, shaking until he squeezes you from behind. So close his heartbeat taps against your back.

///

A week goes by, and each night is the same. You wake together, sleep together, eat together. Simon regains his strength and his wounds turn into scars. His face is deeply marked, but you've never known him another way. Truthfully, it adds to his handsomeness. There's a ruggedness there that one can only develop living in the rough.

The air gets colder, frigid in the mornings and nights. Light snows have begun falling, and Honey-nut begins her bleating until you put up the winter wall of her shelter, boxing her in. The chickens slowly cease laying eggs, bundling together, clucking at Simon when he checks for the seasons last bounty.

The time to make a trek to Markarth is creeping. You need dried goods, grain, seeds for spring, dried meats, elixirs - everything. It'll be your last trip before you're stuck in the freezing mountains with nobody but Honey-nut to talk to.

Books are your salvation during the cold months.

"I have to get supplies soon," you break the news to Simon early in the morning, when the light just barely creeps over the craggy peaks of the mountains. "In Markarth."

There. It's over with - telling him. You know you're being a coward by not asking directly, but you need to know. What is he going to do now that he's healed? Spend a few more months with you? You're still mostly strangers, practicing domesticity together, but strangers nonetheless.

"Can't go to Markarth," he says.

"Why's that?"

Simon looks at you then, eyes hard and tender at the same time. He grimaces a little, scar twisting wit his expression.

"Used to work there," A pause. "Used to… mine there."

"What?" Cidhna mine is for prisoners. You take a small step back, shaking your head. "What?" You repeat. Cidhna mine? Is that how- oh. His injuries, his waiting to see who you were before approaching. By the gods, you've been tricked!

"You tricked me-" you start, upset. Was he a killer, a robber? Images dredged from the recesses of your mind float to the surface. Men, fire, your mother cut down before you.

"No, no," he interrupts. He's shaking his head, not quite stepping forward but leaning toward you. Eyebrows drawn up, palms facing you in supplication. "Sweet girl, I," he looks around then, as if the words will appear written in smoke from the hearthfire. "Listen to me please," he pleads.

"Tell me what you did!" It's a near-shout, but you're upset. He's been cozying up to you while running from the law. Not that you're a total stickler for rules, but the men at Cidhna mine aren't there without reason.

The most secure prison in Skyrim.

"I will, I'll tell you. Just sit down please, sit with me." He pats a chair, sitting in the one beside it. Beseeching you. "Cm'ere, sweet girl. M'sorry."

///

You sit quietly while he tells you, choking a little on the rising tide of emotions. The biggest question is should you believe him? This story of his past, his father, a childhood spent learning to steal and bully to survive. Elixirs for a brother hooked on skooma, food for a mother grown sickly from her husbands abuse. Eventually getting rid of his father altogether, and wining up in Cidhna.

"If what you say is true," your voice wavers, throat tight with emotion. "Why not tell me?"

He shrugs his shoulders, looking up for a moment as if asking the divines for guidance.

"You never asked."

For a moment, you want to be indignant. You laid with him, cooked for him, wiped blood and sweat off his brow.

But he's right. You never asked, never thought to - just wondered, minded your business, content to help someone in need of it. The feeling of betrayal loosens in your chest, releasing it's vice grip on your heart, a calmer acceptance taking place.

The position it leaves you in is awkward, even if you're content to believe him. You've been too yielding since you met him. Accepted him into your home, accepted his story. Ambushed by bandits? A silly lie, now that you think of it. Vague, believable. Easier than explaining that guards had slashed him as he escaped imprisonment. That he couldn't go back because he was so recognizable.

You don't speak as you get ready. It's not an angry silence, but one brought by embarrassment. How stupid he must think you are, cozying up up to him like that.

The question of where he'll go burns still in your mind, in your gut. You're nervous, fingers shaking a little as you wrap long strips of warm wool on your calves, forearms, and between your fingers. Your dress is double-layered, boots sturdy.

It's a trip and half, lugging everything. You're on foot until you reach the nearest inn, and from there you rent a horse and cargo carriage. Easier from there, with Jazbay the white mare to pull you along.

"I know someone in Cidhna," Simon interrupts your thoughts. He's always tall, imposing, a little intimidating. Now he looks as sheepish as a man like him can look. "Could you…" He extends his hand, a letter clasped in it.

You grimace, but nod curtly.

"Thank you, honey," he breathes a sigh of relief. Honey. That ones new. It fills you with warmth.

"You're welcome to stay with me," you blurt. Impulsive, stupid. Brought on by the familiarity of his affection. "For the winter, I mean."

He's across the cabin in two steps. He presses his front to yours, hands cupping your cheeks, thumbs gently rubbing your cheekbones.

He kisses you, then, and everything slides into place. Your stomach tightens, hands coming up to grasp his shoulders, gasping into his mouth. It's wet, lips smacking noisily, the only sound in the near-frozen forest. Acceptance, sweet and buttery. This is a man whose never had a home.

"I can't stall any longer-" you try. He interrupts you with his mouth again, long kisses like it's reviving him, revitalizing him. "I gotta-"

"Shh, sweetheart," he hums lowly. Gods, you've never been this wet. It soaks into your cotton underwear, clit pulsing in time with your heart. "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

///

He's so solid, firm muscle and hard cock. It leaks between his legs, bobbing with his abdomen where he's kneeled on the floor, face in your cunt.

"Simon!" You're shouting, unabashed. Years have passed since anyone's touched you last, and you're sensitive as a maid, gripping his too-long hair almost meanly. Simon licks you like a starving man, slurping, letting you drip and then sucking it off your skin. His fingers find the entrance of your pussy, fitting himself in two at a time.

Once you've begun, you can't stop. He fucks you on the bed, letting it creak dangerously. Bends you over the table, cock dragging in and out of you deliciously. You shake and shiver in his arms, wrung out and insatiable all at once.

"Can I have you here, sweet girl?" He thumbs at your other hole, dipping in, kissing your inner thighs.

"Yes, gods yes, Simon," you drag his name out. Si-i-mon. It sounds good that way, breathy, not spoken but moaned and screamed. It's late evening, dark, colder now that you haven't lit the fire.

No need, when his cock is as hot as coals and slides between your arsecheeks like a divining rod. Your pussy is aching and hot, too-sensitive. You're belly down on the bed again, hands gripped in the sheets.

When you deliberately relax your muscles, he fits his fingers in your ass using come as lubricant. Spits down onto you, watches you start to rub yourself into the bedding desperately.

"None of that," he pants, pulling you up by your hips. A whine builds in your throat, which he shushes by pushing his other two fingers in your cunt. You yelp, moving toward him and away from him. He keeps you still, firmly holding your hips.

You come, tears beginning to leak into your sheets, when he presses his cock against the notch of your hole and pushes in.

A long, deep groan from the pit of his stomach starts and doesn't stop until he's sheathed. You're frozen, stuck in a gasp that doesn't end, filled to the brim.

Simon begins to rock, shallowly, stealing your breath and breathing it back into you with every thrust. It's then that you begin to make sound, crying out and fisting the sheets, rocking your hips with him. He reaches around, leaning down to kiss your shoulders and play with your clit at the same time.

"Not gonna last," he says into your skin. "Gonna come inside you again."

You're easy - so sensitive that if he breathed on you long enough you're sure you'd peak. His fingers twisting and pinching your clit is pure madness, and you tighten like a vice around him as you yowl your last orgasm of the night.

His hips snap into yours roughly, abandoning your clit for the flesh of your hips, pounding, dragging, grunting into you as he finds his own release.

Half-asleep, you fell him roll over onto his side and turn your head to face him. He's smiling lazily, stroking your skin, still sweating from exertion.

"I'll come with you tomorrow," he whispers.

"I thought you couldn't come to Markarth?" Confusion prickles at you, brows coming together. He finds the furrow with his thumb and smooths it away.

"I can't, honey. But I can come down and wait for you."

"You will?" Hope rises in you, in tandem with affection.

"Always," his voice is a soft murmur.

"Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow. Goodnight, sweet girl."

<3

[n0vazsq]

My love, mine all mine | OB87 x Reader

pairing . . . ollie bearman x barca!femeni!reader

summary . . . After Ollie gets a sudden interest in the Barca Femeni team, fans connect the dots and reach the conclusion that he has a crush on you. So when they start tagging you on his posts, he has no choice but to confess and ask you out

request . . . no!!

word count . . . N/A

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . sydney schertenleib and girls from pin!

alexavia yaps . . . guys idk why the fic is lowkey ass 💔🥀 hope yall enjoyed tho bc i'm gonna die for like another 2 weeks. requests open currently for oneshot req (for the mini fic series)

olliebearman

liked by kimi.antonelli, pepemartiofficial, isackhadjar and 1.3M others

olliebearman photodump from yesterday! congrats to the fcbfemeni team for winning and great job to yourusername on getting potm!

click to view all comments

username1 ollie is a culer ?!?!

username2 that food looks so good im salivating

username3 HES SO PRETTYYYY

username4 holy fuck he watches women's football?? yourusername we found you a match

username5 gorgeous

username6 stop i checked the girl he mentioned shes so pretty

username7 js checked and my GOD shes stunning

username8 OLLIE???

username9 i cant wait to see the y/n match updates bc i know for a fact this man will tag her in all his upcoming posts like yourusername at least follow him

kimi.antonelli why the sudden interest in the barcelona women's team

olliebearman i've been a fan since i was 4.

kimi.antonelli "kimi why'd no one tell me to watch women's football before" sent yesterday at 10:13 pm

olliebearman ...

pepemartiofficial ollie got exposed for lying 😂

olliebearman SHUT UP pepe

kimi.antonelli next thing we know he's buying match tickets and travelling to spain

isackhadjar the thing is i think he did do it

kimi.antonelli did you, ollie?

olliebearman i'd rather stay quiet

kimi.antonelli oh my god he did it

username10 how does it feel to have a chance, oliver

username11 their conversations are so funny im sobbing

username12 the rookies always have me tearing up from laughing

username13 screaming crying throwing up yourusername i'm begging you look at this

username14 im giggling at their comments

username15 i need more football content ASAP

username16 can y/n or wtv fight

gabrielbortoleto_ i heard ollie was being a loverboy

olliebearman who told you that ??

kimi.antonelli me

olliebearman of course it was you

gabrielbortoleto_ she's out of your league bro

olliebearman no one asked you gabi

isackhadjar he isn't lying

olliebearman all of you shut up and click off this post

kimi.antonelli someone's in a mood

username17 HELPP KIMI AND OLLIE I LOVE YOU

username18 man im itching to get people to ship them yourusername please look at this

username19 im never shutting about this for like another 18 centuries like my goat y/n x my goat ollie this is a grand event in history

username20 watch her ignore him like she did with that other guy i forgot his name

username21 do you mean hector

username20 yeah i think so

username22 poor hector catching strays 😭

username23 man doesn't even know people are making fun of him

username24 whos ollie im here for y/n

username25 hes a f1 racer for haas f1 team

username26 some random racer idk hes not important y/n is

username27 dislike people like yall

username28 oh to be in a relationship with him

pepemartiofficial if only you were catalonian and personally knew her...

olliebearman .

olliebearman do you know how annoying you are

isackhadjar pepe you should show him that picture of you two at your parents' house eating arroz con leche

kimi.antonelli LMFAO

olliebearman this is what i get for being nice

olliebearman btw i know that didn't happen you're just trying to have a go at me

isackhadjar worked didn't it?

pepemartiofficial i should ask y/n to take a picture of me at my parents' house eating arroz con leche

gabrielbortoleto_ ollie would probably rage and start crying

kimi.antonelli or he'll have a fussy tantrum like a toddler

olliebearman ALL OF YOU GET OUT

username29 i need to know when where shes going to be so i can attach myself to her and fight off ollie

username30 DIED. DECEASED. GONE. ROTTING.

NEW NOTIFICATION: olliebearman has started following you !

NEW NOTIFICATION: kimi.antonelli, isackhadjar and gabrielbortoleto_ have started following you !

NEW NOTIFICATION: username187, username9181 and 165K others have started following you !

yourusername

liked by olliebearman, fcbfemeni, lamineyamal and 1.4M others

yourusername day out in my favourite city

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username30 y/n you have me on my KNEES

username31 what id pay to be whoever is dating her

alexiaputellas nina bonita Comment liked by creator

yourusername ahh gracias alexia <3 you're prettier

alexiaputellas all you hermosa

username32 OKAY OKAY I SEE THE VISION

username33 shes so pretty omgggg

username34 idk if i want to be y/n or be with y/n

username35 holy shit shes so gorgeous

username36 came here for ollie stayed for y/n

yourbsf woah youre so hot

yourusername youre hotter

yourbsf nahhh youre way hotter

yourbsf but yk who is hotter than all of us

yourusername oh god not again

yourbsf i texted you the name 😈

yourusername i was expecting it

yourbsf when will you text him

yourusername never

yourusername and don't even try to convince me

yourbsf someday y/n, you two will be out together in love and you'll be thanking me

yourusername no

yourbsf yes

yourusername sigh i deserve better friends

yourbsf reminder that i'm the one who showed you his pictures

yourusername yeah yeah i said he's cute

yourbsf you better think so

username37 man i love them

username38 HELP THE DATING LORE IS INSANE

username39 did yourbsf just expose them or

username40 i feel like im intruding reading the comments between them

pepemartiofficial sooo you know who he is

yourusername i do because SOMEONE forced me to look at his pictures

yourbsf ey ey ey don't involve me in this

yourusername i'm glad you know it's you since i didn't mention names

pepemartiofficial next time we meet i'm giving you both a run down on everything

yourusername good that you told me so i don't meet up with you

yourbsf see pepe? this is what i told you about

pepemartiofficial y/n you're too stubborn give him a chance

yourusername over my dead body

yourbsf guess we'll have to kill her, won't we, pepemartiofficial

pepemartiofficial guess so

yourusername i can't believe i'm best friends with both of you

username41 Y/N IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH???

username42 THE PICS??? HELLO??? EXCLUSIVE SUBSCRIPTION??? EXCUSE ME??? HOWS SHE SO PRETYY??

username43 how is she so good looking

username44 the face card is INSANE

username45 I NEED HER SO BADLY UGHHHHHHH

username46 STOP where is that juice stand at the end i'm salivating

username47 need me some juice like that

username48 who tf is ollie and why'd he like before me

username49 some rando who thinks he has a chance

username50 bro thinks he's hector 💀

username51 if my gf aint like this ion want her

olliebearman you're very gorgeous

pepemartiofficial damn no reply no like no acknoledgement

olliebearman close that mouth before i close it for you

pepemartiofficial okay bro no need to throw a tantrum 😭

username52 the way she ignored him HELPPPP

username53 y/n yourusername give this young man a chance

username54 so um whens the wedding

username55 when will she acknowledge him more like

username56 yourbsf fans living the life we knew about this before all of you

username57 im sighing dreamily at these pictures

username58 THE PICS.

username59 giggling blushing and kicking my feet

username60 when will y/n post more y/n sigh

NEW NOTIFICATION: olliebearman has liked 29 of your posts and 45 highlights !

NEW NOTIFICATION: olliebearman has added you to their close friends !

olliebearman

liked by gabrielbortoleto_, kimi.antonelli, isackhadjar and 2.1M others

olliebearman iconic. Tagged: fcbfemeni, yourusername

click to view all comments

username61 Y/N LET HIM HIT HES A PROPER SIMP yourusername

username62 people DIED (i'm people)

username63 THE LOOK OF LOVE

username64 THE RUSH OF BLOOD

username65 THE SHES WITH ME IS THE GALLIC SHURG

username66 he and y/n is not a want its a NEED

username67 GIRL COME HERE yourusername

username68 i just KNOW their kids will be BEAUTIFUL

username69 face card never declined

username70 and never will

kimi.antonelli so you're a big football guy now aren't you

pepemartiofficial bet he watches all matches

gabrielbortoleto_ probably analyses the plays

isackhadjar he 100% studies positions and strategies

kimi.antonelli i'll bet my life savings that he memorised every players' jersey number, name, age, ethnicity and country of birth

olliebearman what did i do to you all

olliebearman what is this modern day torture

username72 Y/N PLEASE NOTICE HIM yourusername

username73 y/n x ollie

username74 the otp fr

username75 the lack of the y/n is starting to concern me

username76 fr like WHERE IS SHEEE

pepemartiofficial hey yourusername i think someone likes you

olliebearman SHUT UP

pepemartiofficial jeez chillax

username77 sobbing i feel bad for ollie

yourbsf please please please notice him y/n i know you know who he is yourusername yourusername yourusername yourusername yourusername yourusername yourusername

olliebearman not you too

username78 i could feel the hurt in ollie's words

username79 theyre more chaotic than we thought oh my god

username80 everyone said lets spam mention y/n so she notices him and i love it

pepemartiofficial clock is ticking and so is our patience

pepemartiofficial come one oliver make your move

olliebearman josep maria marti i'm going to murder you

yourbsf he pulled the full name

pepemartiofficial im sorry pls dont kill me

yourbsf he wont just because you're the mutual friend 😂

olliebearman i'm literally right here

yourbsf do you think i care

olliebearman oh wow

pepemartiofficial ollie got humbled lmfao

username81 deleting all my socials after this but yourusername come here

username82 they are SOULMATES vro yourusername

username83 HSHSHSH NOT EVERYONE MENTIONING HER AFTER EVERY COMMENT LMFAOOOOOO yourusername

username84 Y/N WYAAAA yourusername

username85 legit romance book vibes yourusername

username86 imagine being this in love yourusername

yourbsf to think this all started with pepe's birthday

pepemartiofficial it's crazy

yourbsf and now ollie is in love

username87 VISCA BARCA !!!!!!!! yourusername

username88 i am JEALOUS, ENVIOUS, GREEN. but oh well yourusername

username89 i mean they were bound to meet sooner or later bc of pepe being a mutual friend yourusername

username90 they ARE the main characters yourusername

username91 FRR like everyone else is just a side character yourusername

username92 alexa play 'that should be me' by justin bieber yourusername

gabrielbortoleto_ when will you make your move

olliebearman never with you as my friends

kimi.antonelli stay single and miserable then xx

pepemartiofficial yeah we all have gfs

gabrielbortoleto_ except isack but he doesn't count

olliebearman YOU DON'T NEED TO REMIND ME I'M AWARE

username93 dont make his heart break yourusername

username94 STOP I CANT WAIT TO SEE HER IN THE PADDOCK yourusername

username95 if they dont get together then love isnt real yourusername

kimi.antonelli this is your last chance to make your move oliver

olliebearman PLEASE STOP

pepemartiofficial is he okay

gabrielbortoleto_ prolly not

isackhadjar he'll survive

username96 i just know they'll be each other's ride or dies yourusername

username97 where to buy a ollie asking for a friend

username98 if i could id just take over one of their bodies to experience this love yourusername

username99 im waiting for the fics yourusername

username100 straight out of romeo and juliet yourusername

isackhadjar when's the move loverboy?

olliebearman i'm begging you all please stop

kimi.antonelli i think we drove him crazy

pepemartiofficial he deserves it no one told him to publicly announce his little boy crush

INSTAGRAM TEXTS BETWEEN YOU AND @olliebearman

olliebearman: hi y/n! i'm ollie, nice to meet you!

yourusername: i know who you are ollie

yourusername: pepe wouldn't leave me alone

yourusername: nice to meet you too though

olliebearman: sorry about my friends being annoying

olliebearman: and all the fans tagging you

yourusername: don't worry about it, it was fun to watch while it lasted

olliebearman: yeah i just wanted to tell you something

olliebearman: all these comments pressured me to do it

yourusername: you don't have to say anything you don't want to, ollie

olliebearman: it's alright, i want to get it off my shoulders

olliebearman: and make everyone stop annoying me about it

yourusername: what's up then?

yourusername: is it something to do with pepe or my bsf

olliebearman: no no

olliebearman: it's actually got to do someting with you

yourusername: oh?

olliebearman: yeah

olliebearman: please don't block me or ignore me after i tell you

yourusername: don't worry

yourusername: i won't

yourusername: now continue i'm really curious

olliebearman: alright... here goes nothing

olliebearman: i really like you y/n

olliebearman: i have for a while actually

olliebearman: ever since that time pepe introduced us last year

yourusername: that's really sweet ollie

olliebearman: i've made it awkward haven't i??

yourusername: no no no

yourusername: you're really cute tbh

yourusername: and i did have a teensy tiny crush on you since we last met too

olliebearman: oh wow

olliebearman: this turned out so much better than i expected

olliebearman: i'm so glad you like me back

yourusername: dw about it

yourusername: seeing you like this is cute

olliebearman: so y/n i have a question

yourusername: yeah?

olliebearman: would you like to go out with me?

yourusername: i'd love to <3

olliebearman: great!! you're free next weekend right?

yourusername: yeah! i am

olliebearman: then you can come to the spanish gp!

olliebearman: you can stay in the haas garage (my side)

olliebearman: if it's alright for you i'll ask my team to send you the details

yourusername: oh my god ollie i've always wanted to watch an f1 race

yourusername: tysm for inviting me

yourusername: and i hope you get a good result in the race

olliebearman: i will

olliebearman: for you

NEW NOTIFICATION: olliebearman has mentioned you in their close friends story !

yourusername

liked by olliebearman, yourbsf, gabrielbortoleto_ and 2.1M others

yourusername spanish gp done so i'm headed to italy and oh btw olliebearman and me are dating

click to view all comments

username101 cue the yourbsf meltdown in...

username102 3...

username101 2...

username102 1...

yourbsf Y/N YOU DIDN'T TELL ME ABOUT THIS

yourbsf A BOY????

yourbsf YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND??

yourbsf A RACER BOY????

yourbsf THE BOY YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T DATE OVER YOUR DEAD BODY?

yourbsf YOU DISGRACE

yourbsf TRAITOR

yourusername are you done?

yourbsf NO

yourusername dont say it then

username103 dont know if i should be shocked or unsurpirsed

username104 both

kimi.antonelli congrats y/n!! so happy for both of you

yourusername thank you kimi !!

olliebearman thank you!! glad you're being nice for ONCE

username105 KIMI BEING THE SUPPORTIVE YOUNGER BROTHER FIGURE MY HEARTTTTT

username106 i just know damn well yourbsf is on the verge of tears

username107 SHES SO GORGEOUS I CANT

username108 my parents 🙏🙏

username109 PARASOCIAL RELATIONSHIP FRRRR

pepemartioffical congratulations!!

olliebearman thank YOU for introducing us

pepemartofficial im finally credited for my efforts

olliebearman nvm

yourusername thank you pepe ❤

gabrielbortoleto_ ohhhso youre the girl he was spamming the gc always talking about

olliebearman GABRIEL

yourusername im flattered please tell me more

gabrielbortoleto_ will do whenever we meet 😊 congrats by the way!

yourusername thank you gabriel!!

username110 my dream couple frrrr

username111 GOALS OMG

username112 its true love if THE y/n posted a soft launch for him

username113 racer boy and footballer girl, couldnt have been better

username114 BEST LOVE STORY FRRR

username115 if my future bf isnt like ollie i dont want him

username116 can ollie fight honest question

username117 dropping that so casually is max aura

username118 y/n is creative i wouldnt have thought of that

username119 waiting for ollie at her football matches

username120 spanish royalty ong

olliebearman i love you so much, mi cielo

yourusername i love you more, my london boy

olliebearman love you more than anything, my barcelona girl

yourusername 🫶❤

olliebearman ❤❤

username121 STOPP MY HEART CANT TAKE THIS

username122 this has me sobbing and i dont even know them

username123 NOOOO IM CRYING THIS SO SWEET

username124 IKR???

username125 THEY HAVE NO RIGHT BEING THIS CUTE

username126 the kiss after the race omg i died watching it

username127 i feel like im intruding or something

username128 my mother and father

username129 OUR*

username130 CUTIESSS AHHH

isackhadjar cutest couple i know, wishing you all the best

olliebearman thank you isack

username131 FUCK OFF THIS POST IS MAKING ME SO EMOTIONAL

username132 this is so romantic and for what

username133 THE CAPTION

username134 y/ns caption is killing me

username135 ISYG BAJJHSSYHSUJKKIUHBHNJWMK

username136 I JUST CAME BACK FROM SUMMER CAMP WTF??? IS THIS HOW I FIND OUT THEYRE TOEGTHER???

username137 screaming crying throwing up

username138 killing myself

username139 wait for me

username140 they should get a reality show

username141 meow

username142 THEM>>>>>>>>>>

username143 sign here to get this into a romance movie

username144 SIGNEDDDD

username145 signed and asking my whole family to sign

username146 lets make this an actual petition

username147 so like when will it be my turn

username148 greatest love story of this centruy

username149 no lies said

username150 my kind of love

olliebearman

liked by yourusername, kimi.antonelli, yourbsf and 2.3M others

olliebearman got the girl of my dreams so i'm gonna brag about it forever Tagged: yourusername

click to view all comments

yourusername i love you forever, ollie. my one and only london boy.

olliebearman i love you to eternity, y/n. my one and only barcelona girl

yourusername forever and always

olliebearman till the end

yourusername i love you

olliebearman i love you too

username151 oh jolly this is so beautiful

username152 THE AESTHETIC ATE UPPPPPP

username153 y/n + ollie in italy together??

username154 thats adorable omgggg

username155 sigh im in love with them

username156 your honour i love them

yourusername this is cute but not as cute as you

olliebearman MY LOVE STOP THIS IS TOO SWEET

yourusername YOU DESERVE WAY MORE THAN THIS MY BEAUTIFUL BOY

olliebearman I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

yourusername I LOVE YOU MORE

username157 why are they communacting in caps??

username158 i have no idea but let them be

username159 oh to be rich

username160 living vicarously through them

username161 sigh i wish i was y/n

username162 oh so hes getting brave with it

username163 OLLIE GIVE US Y/N CONTENT !!!!!!!!!

username164 REAL

username165 oh?

username166 to be hot and have a hot boyfriend is the LIFE

yourbsf okay oliver we get that you have biceps don't choke my bsf with them

olliebearman what if she's into it

yourusername ....

yourusername i'm literally right here

olliebearman are you then?

yourusername not answering that question for more than 2 million people to see

yourbsf smart decision dm me the answer

yourusername YOU DONT NEED TO KNOW

pepemartiofficial i bet she is

yourusername is pepe okay??

yourbsf is he ever

yourusername true

olliebearman but actually are you into it

yourusername .

yourusername i have the right to remain silent

username167 this is the meaning of winging it

username168 boy said "you made fun of me and i did it so i'll rub it in your faces"

username169 now i understand why he was so head over heels for her

username170 we NEED to know about what went on in italy

username171 YES OMG

username172 id sell my left kidney to know

username173 THE AESHETIC. MOTHER Y/N ATEEE (i know ollie posted them but y/n clearly had a say in the photos)

kimi.antonelli these pictures are risky

olliebearman okay?

pepemartiofficial hes feeling scandalous

olliebearman pepe can you shut up

pepemartiofficial no

olliebearman figured

username174 on my fucking knees for them

yourusernameyou look so cute omgg

olliebearman you're cuter

yourusername impossible

olliebearman i put the possible in impossible

yourusername can't even defend you on that

username175 didnt expect them to be so cheesy

username176 id die and come back just to experience these photos

username177 our king is gaining fame dni

username178 is it bad that im making heart eyes at them

username179 totally not, i too am making heart eyes at y/n l/n and ollie bearman

username180 my beloved barcelona girl and her london boy

yourusername has posted three new stories !

caption 1: back to BCN // caption 2: don't tell loverboy abt this // caption 3: 🤍🤍

story liked by olliebearman, yourbsf, pepemartiofficial and 1.7M others

to be continued....?

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree ,, @freyathehuntress ,, @chilling-seavey ,, @eloriis ,, @linnygirl09 ,, @joaosnovia ,, @damonsalvatorelikessex ,, @somerandomf1fan ,, @kevinlolwife ,, @veyveyx (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[wordsarelife]

—the archer

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

summary: when you state starts worsening, you hope to pull away from everything without someone noticing. but mattheo notices the signs, and he won't let someone he lo— he won't let you slip away...

warnings: mentions of depression, of harming behavior and worsening condition of someones mental health, angst with a happy ending, cursing, like a lot of it

note: this just came out of me. originally i hadn't intented for it to be so depressing, but here we are lol. the ending is happy i promise and there might be a love confession

there was a party today. you had heard about it when two slytherins you didn't know the names of, had discussed their outfits for the night.

you couldn't remember when you had last been to a party.

you couldn't even remember when someone had last invited you to one. you had stopped showing up at things a long time ago. and some time after that, people had stopped wondering where you were— and you were relieved.

it was easier to spiral when no one noticed.

when there wasn't someone you had to constantly find excuses for. why you didn't leave the bed. why you didn't eat for two days before you had a real meal on the third. why you weren't you anymore.

it was easier when you didn't have to explain. it was easier, because you didn't know how to explain.

it felt like any room you entered these days was filled with people who could see through you, knowing you weren't who you pretended to be. that you weren't worth their time. it was easier to realize that than to continue pretending.

you avoided mirrors when you walked through the halls of the castle. you didn't raise your hands in your classes, if you even went to them in the first place, and you stopped caring about what others thought of you.

all of it had been going great, until the last person you had expected, showed up at your door.

mattheo riddle and you had been friends since your first year in hogwarts. you had naturally floated toward his group, being born as a pureblood in one of the richest families in the wizarding world.

if money would've been able to fix whatever the hell was wrong with you, you were sure you would’ve never had any problems in the first place.

mattheo and you had known each other much longer, even before hogwarts, but you wouldn't have considered each others friends, so you never really counted that.

mattheo’s group had once felt like home— not because of how much they liked you, but because they never asked why you were quiet some days and reckless the next. they had grown up around chaos too. they understood the unspoken rule: you don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.

at some point, they had stopped being your friends and started being people you avoided in the hallways. you’d cut them off so gently they hadn’t even noticed at first— a missed class here, a forgotten lunch there. and then, eventually, nothing at all. you thought that was the cleanest way to disappear.

but mattheo had noticed. evidently.

"what are you doing here?" you asked as you opened the door. your roomate had been gone for a few hours, probably at that party you had heard about earlier, so you were alone in the room, leaning against the door and staring mattheo down like he had greatly offended you by showing up.

"oh look, she can actually talk" he noted sarcastically, stepping around you without an invitation and sitting down on your bed, facing you.

you sighed, before you closed the door. "and what is that supposed to mean?"

mattheo wasn't the one to talk about things gently. "well, exactly what it sounds like" he shrugged "i thought there had to be something wrong with your voice, because you haven't opened your fucking mouth in weeks"

"you're so dramatic"

"am i?" mattheo asked with furrowed brows. "because i sure as all aren't the one shutting themselves off in their little rapunzel tower. wanting to be left alone so badly they forgot all basic manners when they enter a room. here's a tip: people appreciate hearing the word 'hello' from time to time."

you shook your head, rolling your eyes at his attitude. "maybe you shouldn't knock on doors when you weren't invited."

"maybe you should stop moping around like someone stole your favorite hair-tie"

"oh fuck off, mattheo" you crossed your arms. "you have no idea what's going on."

"no?" he repeated, trying his best to provoke you. "then enlighten me. what's been going on with you? and it better be good, because i didn't come all this way to hear some stupid excuse of you feeling tired." he leaned back, waiting for you to talk.

"but i do feel tired" you said, your tone totally different than before, "i feel so tired, mattheo"

mattheo looked you up and down. he noticed the bags under your eyes, how you had basically shrunken under his gaze and the way you coudln't even look him in the eyes while you talked.

"tired of what?"

"i don't know, of everything" you threw your hands around, pointing around you. "of my life"

"and you think disappearing from everything is gonna solve that?" mattheo asked. "because if you don't live your life you suddenly stop hating it?"

you said nothing, biting down on your lip while simply staring at him.

"this is not how it works, okay?" he stood up, crossing the room and taking your shoulders into his hands, as if to shake sense into your body. "and you think this is fun to watch? think we don't care? that we've simply forgotten you, because you tried to make us?"

"you should've"

"fuck that" mattheo shook his head, exasperation flowing his features. "enzo and theo ask about you daily, pansy tries to take notes in class to save them for you, draco sits at the library every thursday waiting for you to show up, even though he knows you won't. and blaise still brings up that stupid inside joke the two of you had every time someone orders peppermint tea. we didn't stop caring just because you wanted us to"

you pulled your shoulders back, frustration bubbling over. “you don’t get it, mattheo. you can’t just care your way through this. It’s not that simple.”

he tightened his grip on your shoulders, eyes fierce. “try me.”

you pushed his hands away, running your owns through your hair as you turned away from him. "i don't need whatever you're trying to do, okay?" your voice grew louder. "i don't need someone to tell me there's something fucking wrong with me, because i already know it"

“i’m not here to tell you anything,” he repeated, his voice low but steady, following a step behind as you turned away. “i’m here because i’ve been there.”

you paused, shoulders stiffening at the weight in his tone— not angry, not sarcastic, just… raw.

“don’t lie to me, mattheo,” you muttered. “you don’t know what it’s like.”

"oh, i know what it's like, okay?" he breathed, waiting a few seconds, before he finally continued "to look in every mirror and hate what you see, to not want to get out of bed because you feel like whatever you do, you have no fucking control over what will happen, to stop enjoying things you once loved and to stop wanting to be around people who you once loved."

"mattheo—"

"i'm not trying to tell you what the fuck is wrong with you" mattheo interrupted. "i'm trying to tell you that there might be a way out of it. but staying here and shutting everyone out won't make it better. because after a while, people start accepting that you don't want to see them, parties get thrown without anyone even thinking about inviting you and some day you really won't have anyone who cares and then you're genuinely at the worst fucking point. a point with no return."

"we're already way past that point" you shrugged. "so, what does it matter?"

"we're not, okay?" mattheo replied angrily. "because that's not something you just decide like that. you still have us, even if you don't want us to care. and you're fucking stupid if you really think i will continue watching this until you reach a point of no return."

"then stop watching!" you snapped, spinning back toward him. "if it's so hard for you, mattheo, then leave! stop showing up at my door, stop dragging me out of my own head just to yell at me for being different than you want me to be! i didn't ask for this—"

"you didn't have to!" he interrupted, stepping closer, eyes burning with something wild and sharp. "because it's not something you ask for. if people care about you, they're going to show up, whether you want them to or not."

tears welled up in your eyes, as you stared back at him.

"you think this care?" you asked in disbelief, trying to swallow the tears as you screamed. "barging into people’s lives when they’ve made it very clear they don’t want you there? yelling at them for not being who they used to be? you think that makes it better?”

“i think someone has to care enough to try,” mattheo shot back, brows furrowed. “and clearly, no one else is knocking down your door!”

“because i don’t want them to!” you shouted. “i didn’t ask for anyone to play hero or to fix me or care! i don’t need pity, mattheo!”

he stepped forward, jaw clenched. “this isn’t pity—”

"then what the fuck is it?" you snapped, the tears now flowing freely. "because this does look scarily close to it. what do you want from me?"

"i want you to stop acting like you’re the only one who's ever gone through hell!” he shouted, his voice rising again. “you think you’ve cornered the market on pain? on loneliness? on pushing everyone away because it’s easier to fall alone than drag people down with you? congratu-fucking-lations if you really think that's an achievement.”

you flinched like he’d struck you— but it wasn’t the volume that cut. It was the truth buried under every word.

“you think i want to be like this?” you hissed, voice shaking. “you think i chose to wake up every day and feel like I can’t breathe? you think i don’t hate it?!”

“i know you hate it!” he snapped, stepping closer again, hands twitching at his sides like he didn’t know whether to pull you in or throw something across the room. “that’s the fucking problem! you hate it, and instead of fighting it, you’ve just decided to rot in it!”

"oh, fuck you!" you bellowed, stepping back in utter disgust. "just because you know what it feels like doesn't mean you can act so high and mighty, like you have any type of authority over the way i deal with it."

"i'm not trying to!"

"then what the fuck do you want?" you shouted, your voice growing impossibly louder. "you come here to tell me how to deal with my problems, but you don't want to control me, but at the same time you do... it’s just back and forth with you. do i need to spell it out for you to get it? i don't need whatever this is, so what do you still fucking want from me?"

"you really think i came here with a plan?" he screamed back, matching your tone. "you really think i sat down and thought about how i approach this mess of a situation best? no, because you don't sit down to plan how you're gonna save someone who's drowning, you just get there and you try your best to fucking save them, that's how it works."

"you can't save people who don't want to be saved."

"why are you so fucking stubborn?" he bellowed. "i've never met someone as infuriating as you. it's fucking annoying."

"yeah? well congratulations," you snarled, breathless. "add it to the list of things you hate about me."

his expression twisted, like you’d struck him. good. let it hurt.

"you think i can just stop feeling like this?" you spat when he didn't answer. "oh, poor mattheo, he cares so much even when people don't want him to, he’s such a great person. god, it must be exhausting being you with care that comes so easily you don't even know who to place it onto next, you fucking twat"

"i don’t care because it’s easy!" he exploded, angrier than you had ever seen him before, taking a step forward. "i care because I fucking love you, okay?!"

the room grew quiet, your arms falling to your side as you narrowed your eyes at him. mattheo took a breath, but didn't say a word.

"what?" you asked, softly, your voice almost not there. maybe you didn't even want him to hear it.

but then his voice returned so suddenly you almost got whiplash. “fuck. i love you, alright?”

you stared at him, lips parted, every argument you had prepared suddenly useless.

he shook his head, furious at himself now. “i didn’t mean to say that. i wasn’t—this wasn’t how i wanted to—” he stopped again, ran a hand through his hair, defeated. “but it’s the truth. and I’m so fucking tired of hiding it.”

the room fell dead silent. your heart pounded so loud you could barely hear yourself think.

mattheo waited for you to say something, anything, but you kept quiet, so he was the one who spoke.

"you want to know what all this is? this fight, this yelling, me showing up at your door like a bloody lunatic—it isn't me trying to be a fucking hero. this is what love looks like when it’s terrified.”

"terrified?" you repeated, your voice almost giving in. you suddenly felt very lightheaded, like you would lose conciousness at any moment.

"terrified" mattheo nodded. "i don't need you to say it back or anything, that's not the reason behind it. but i need you to survive and i’m terrified you won’t."

"mattheo, i—" you shook your head, biting down your words, unsure what you should answer. all the words were suddenly buried so far back, you couldn't even imagine reaching them ever again.

"you don't have to say anything" he said. "this is not some fucking ‘get better so i can love you’ situation. because i'm gonna love you wether you want it or not, wether you get better or continue to hide in your fucking room for all eternity— so fuck that, okay?”

he took a breath “i want you to get better for yourself" he said softly, even managing to sound friendly while constantly cursing.

"because i remember how you spent hours outside just because you liked the way the sun felt on your body, or how you came to the library every thursday to work on your history of magic papers, not because you actually needed the extra time, but because you knew draco needed it, but would always be too stubborn to ask for your help.”

you sniffled, tearing up even further. the way he looked at you and the words he said broke your heart but stitched it back together at the same time.

“you used to love chocolate cake and pumpkin juice, the sound of snow crunching under your feet, listening to music at parties, dancing, laughing— living."

"mattheo—"

"no, please, let me finish" he muttered softly. "i know whatever you're going through feels impossible to overcome and it won't be easy, i can promise you as much… but even though you probably feel so fucking disconnected to everything that was before this— you aren't, because the you from before, she's still in there" he softly touched your cheek with his hand and you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch.

"i can tell, because you're crying while we're fighting, and you always did that, even when we were children." he counted on.

"because you looked at me with the same expression you always used to have and because you can feel me touching you right now. you can feel the warmth of my hand and it feels good. because you can still feel things and you will continue to feel them more and more as time goes on. you're not beyond the point of saving, but you have to do it yourself"

"you really believe in me that much?" you whispered softly, opening your eyes and meeting his brown orbs. "even when i tried everything to push you away?"

he looked at you like he couldn't believe you were seriously asking that. "what does it look like?" he muttered sarcastically "showing up unannounced in your room, screaming at you and confessing my love didn't prove that to you already?"

you laughed through your tears and nodded. "i will try, okay?"

"one step at a time" mattheo reminded softly. "i'll be here"

“just for the record” you mumbled, leaning your forehead against his. “the way i felt about you never changed, not even when i was at my worst. because i love you too”

you looked up at him, eyes searching his face, and added, “that never really stopped.”

[4nyangnyangz]

just one time, right? 2️⃣

you asked and I delivered, here's part two!! enjoy <33333

this is a part 2/sequel of “just one time, right?”. i highly suggest reading it first before proceeding with this one!

pairings: pervy roommate!beomgyu x fem reader

tags/warnings: smut/nsfw content, minors dni!! friends to ???, more angst! slow burn, mutual pining(Y/N is still kinda confused lol), masturbation, oral(m and f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it!!), creampie, gyu is whiny and desperate (he also gets kinda manipulative at some point), fluff, there's probably more I forgot to mention.

wordcount: 7.5k!!

fic below the cut!!

------------------------

It’s been two weeks since that night.

Two weeks since you've kissed your friend. Two weeks since you've let him touch you in ways no one else ever has—since you've made a deal that you’ve repeated in your head so many times that it’s starting to feel less like a rule and more like a lie.

Still, things have stayed the same…on the surface.

You’ve both slipped back into your normal routines—laundry days, late-night ramen runs, and bickering over who left the bathroom light on. Everything looks the same from the outside; You laugh at his dumb jokes, you fight over the game controller like nothing’s changed. Like you didn’t just moan his name with your face buried in his pillow once.

Everything is back to the way it was.

Except…it’s not. Not really.

Because now, you’re aware of him. Really aware of him.

You catch him watching you during dinner, his chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth, eyes lingering just a little too long on your lips as you ramble about your day. When you're sitting on the floor playing games, your knees brushing his just slightly, and he doesn't move it. Sometimes, you catch the warmth of his hand ghosting over the small of your back when he reaches around you for the remote or a drink, like it’s innocent. Like it’s normal.

And you notice.

God, you notice.

You tried to ignore it at first, but how could you? Especially when you can feel your breath hitch when he's a little closer than usual. Your heartbeat skip when he smiles at you in a way that makes your thoughts go haywire. You’re becoming hyper-aware of him in a way that has nothing to do with friendship and everything to do with the way he made you feel that night.

But you tell yourself it’s nothing: You're just confused. A temporary glitch in your brain. Hormones. Residual tension. Whatever excuse you could come up with.

Because if you admit it’s more than that, if you admit you want him again—maybe even miss him—then you have to admit that something between you shifted, that the line you both crossed didn’t disappear after you pulled your dress back on and closed his door.

You keep thinking about what he said that night.

“I’ve always wanted to do this to you.”

“I always thought you were attractive.”

You've been replaying those words in your mind on loop, dissecting them from every possible angle like a problem you’re desperate to solve.

He said he’s wanted you. He's attracted to you. Wanted to touch you. Make you feel good. That much was obvious. But you’ve been clinging to the difference—wanting someone isn’t the same as liking them.

Not in the real way. Not in the “I think about you when you're not around, I want to wake up next to you, I want to know every messy part of you and stay anyway” kind of way.

Maybe it was just about sex. Chemistry. Timing.

Maybe you were just convenient.

And Beomgyu…he’s not the type to—

A soft knock on your door cuts through the haze of your thoughts.

You blink, your heart skipping like it got caught off rhythm. You clear your throat and call out,“Yeah?”

The door creaks open just a little, and Beomgyu peeks his head in.

“Hey,” he says casually. His voice is soft, but it still ripples through you like a shiver. “Just wanted to let you know I’m heading out to meet the guys. I’ll probably be back late, so I won’t be around for dinner.”

You sit up instinctively, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear and trying very hard not to let your gaze linger. He’s wearing that loose black hoodie he always pairs with ripped jeans and his usual silver chain.

Nothing out of the ordinary, but something about the way it all hangs on him tonight, effortless and cool, makes your stomach flip.

Of course it does.

He’s just standing there. Being him. And somehow that’s enough to throw you off balance.

You nod quickly, too quickly, before responding,“That’s fine. You didn’t have to tell me, you could’ve just… texted.”

He shrugs, leaning a little against the doorframe.“I just figured I’d say it in person.”

His eyes linger for a moment longer, just long enough to make your chest tighten before he reaches for the handle.

“Don’t wait up.” he says softly.

He starts to pull the door behind him when, without thinking, the words tumble from your mouth.

“Beomgyu—wait.”

You don’t even know why you said that. It’s out before your brain catches up, and the door pauses, just a sliver of him still visible. Then, slowly, he peeks his head back in.

His brows are raised slightly in surprise. “Yeah?”

He’s looking at you like you’ve said something important, and now you have to figure out what that something is. Your mouth opens, then closes. Your thoughts are scattered. You wish you had something clever to say, anything that didn’t make your heart feel like it’s about to burst out of your chest.

“I just…” You shift on the bed, your fingers clutching the blanket a little too tightly.

“Can we…talk? Sometime?”

There’s a brief pause. He tilts his head just slightly, looking at you with softened eyes. And then, he nods. A small, quiet motion, but the understanding in his gaze nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

“Yeah, Y/N.” He says,“We can talk.”

“Not right now, of course,” you add quickly, waving a hand,“I mean—you don’t have to. Just… whenever you're ready.”

He gives you a small smile—gentle, warm, a little crooked in the way that always makes your stomach do that stupid thing.

“Okay,” he says,“Let's talk soon.”

And just like that, he’s gone again, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

But this time, the silence he leaves behind feels different. The air suddenly feels heavier for some reason.

-----------------

You’ve shifted in bed at least twenty times now, changed positions, adjusted your blanket, flipped your pillow over for the cooler side—none of it works.

You lie there, eyes wide open and locked onto the ceiling like it might offer some relief, but it doesn’t. It just stares right back, blank and unmoving, while your thoughts swirl like a storm you can’t escape.

Beomgyu.

That night.

You close your eyes tightly as you try to ignore the thoughts that are running through your head, but no matter what you do, you can't seem to stop thinking about him—about what happened.

You remember the heat of his breath against your neck, the pressure of his hips against yours, the sounds he made whenever you moaned into his mouth.

You can't stop thinking about how his body felt on yours, how good it felt to have him on top of you, how good it felt when he was rubbing his cock on your pussy.

You sigh in frustration and close your eyes once more. You turn around on your bed and cover your face with a pillow.

As much as you try to deny yourself, he's all you could ever think about. You've been wanting him again since that night.

You try to push those thoughts away, or forget it even happened, but it's no use. Your body remembers; It aches with the memory of him.

You hate that you feel like this. You hate how badly you still want him— even when you’ve told yourself so many times that it was a one-time thing, that it wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

Before you know it, your hand slides under the hem of your shirt, tentative at first. You don’t even realize what you’re doing until your fingers graze your skin and your breath catches.

You imagine it’s him. His hands, not yours. His lips at your throat. His voice low and rough, praising you, teasing you. You imagine him kissing you like he's been starved of it. You imagine his weight on top of yours as he touches you.

You want him. You want him so bad that you couldn't think straight.

You take off your shorts and throw it across the room. You start touching yourself, imagining that it was him.

Your hand moves with purpose, mimicking the rhythm of his hips that you so vividly remember from that night. You start imagining him rubbing his cock on your clit. You start imagining his cock sliding between your folds. You start imagining him fucking you.

“Mmm…” you moan softly as your fingers brush against your clit slowly.

Two of your fingers slip inside you, and you gasp at the sudden fullness. They curl upward, and you can't help but arch your back into the pillow, imagining his strong arms holding you down, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

You pump your fingers in and out, increasing the tempo, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge. You're lost in the fantasy, in the delicious torture of wanting him so badly that it physically hurts.

“More please, Beomgyu...” You whisper as you imagine his tongue tracing the line of your collarbone, his teeth nipping at your sensitive flesh, making you squirm and moan for more.

Your thumb circles your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, and you bite your bottom lip to stifle the cry that threatens to escape. Your body tightens, a coil of pleasure winding up tighter and tighter.

“Ahh...! Beomgyu!!” you groan, crying out his name as you come all over your fingers. Your legs start shaking, and your pussy clenches at nothing. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, and you ride it out.

When you come down from your high, you realize what you've just done. You’re still lying there, chest rising and falling slowly as your pulse calms, but something else starts to settle in the stillness.

Guilt.

Not the light, teasing kind, but the kind that coils in your gut, low and heavy and cold.

Because as the warmth fades from your limbs, reality floods back in—and it hits you all at once.

You just touched yourself.

To the thought of Beomgyu.

Your best friend.

Your roommate.

The same Beomgyu who made you laugh through hangovers, who stayed up with you when you were heartbroken, who’s seen you in ratty pajamas and no makeup and still called you cute just to make you roll your eyes. The same Beomgyu who held you that night two weeks ago like he’d been waiting forever to do it.

But still.

You haven’t even talked since then. Not really. Not about what happened, not about what it meant.

And here you are, lying in your bed in the middle of the night, using the memory of him to get off like it’s some casual fantasy. Like it didn’t mean anything.

But it did. You know it did.

But now, in the dark, tangled up in guilt and craving, you can’t lie to yourself about it. Not really.

You sit up slowly, the weight of it all pressing down on your shoulders. Shame crept up your neck, your cheeks. You run a hand through your hair, exhaling hard, like you could push the thoughts out of your head if you just breathed hard enough.

You haven’t even figured out what you feel yet.

You don’t even know if he likes you. Not the way you’ve started to think about him when it’s quiet. When you let your guard down.

You just know that it felt good, so so good—to pretend; To imagine that he wanted you like that, that he meant what he said that night, that it wasn’t just lust, that it could be more.

You stand up on shaky legs, reaching for your towel with the hope that a hot shower might scrub the thoughts off your skin. You don’t even make it three steps before you hear your phone buzz behind you.

You pause for a moment before turning back.

The screen lights up like a curse. You catch a glimpse of a text notification from Beomgyu appear through your lock screen. You stare at the message.

Beomgyu: I can hear you.

You freeze in place.

The air leaves your lungs in one short, panicked gasp.

No. No fucking way.

Your fingers hover over the screen for a second too long. Your mind is in chaos, racing, spiraling. The longer you wait, the more it feels like you have to say something before the silence turns lethal.

So you type without thinking, leaning on denial like it’s your last defense.

You: what are you talking about?

You hit send and immediately regret it. It’s flimsy. Weak. Painfully obvious. You can already picture the smirk pulling at his lips as he reads it.

His reply is almost immediate.

Beomgyu: I heard you moan my name just now. I know I wasn’t just imagining things.

You flinch, your mouth falling open just slightly.

The flush creeps up your neck so fast you have to sit down. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself against the full weight of humiliation crashing down on you.

Your hands tremble as you reply again, more desperate this time, like maybe there’s still a way to make this go away.

You: but you literally aren't even home yet??

The dots appear. Then stop. Then appear again.

And then,

Beomgyu: You seriously think I’m still out?

You immediately shift your attention to the top of your phone. Your eyes widen when you see that it's already 1:50 AM.

When did it get so late?

You’d been so lost in your thoughts, so lost in him, that the hours slipped right through your fingers. You’d convinced yourself you were alone, when really… he was here. Maybe in the room next door. Maybe just on the other side of the wall.

And he heard you.

The silence stretches now, this time from you. You stare at the screen, not knowing what to say, not even sure what you could say.

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment when you finally realize what's happening. You didn't even think that he might already be home.

You set the phone down, cover your face with your hands, and groan softly into your palms.

Then — another buzz.

You felt your heart jump into your throat.

You reach for it hesitantly, scared of what he might’ve said next. And when you finally gather the courage to look:

Beomgyu: I’m so hard right now. I need you. Help me out?

You freeze, fingers gripping the edges of your phone like it’s the only thing tethering you to the moment. Your heart is pounding — hard enough that you feel it echo in your throat.

You don't know what to say. You don't know how to respond.

Beomgyu: Y/N, please?

Your thumbs hover, unsure and nervous, but also... curious.

You: how?

You hit send before you can talk yourself out of it.

The moment stretches. A beat. Two.

Then, your screen lights up again.

Beomgyu: I’m outside your door.

You jolt, head snapping toward the door like it might vanish if you blink.

He’s here?

Like, right now?

You sit up straighter, adrenaline rushing through you in one wild, dizzying wave. You don’t even remember hearing his footsteps— didn’t hear the hallway creak or his soft knock.

But now, he’s standing just on the other side of that door. Waiting.

Your phone buzzes again.

Beomgyu: Open the door for me, please?

Your breath hitches.

With trembling hands, you retrieve your discarded shorts and panties from the floor, sliding them back on in a hasty attempt to regain some semblance of decency.

You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before you tiptoe to the door. You pause, one last second of hesitation before slowly pulling it open. The soft click of the lock sounding louder than a gunshot in the stillness of the night.

And there he is.

Beomgyu.

His hair is a mess, like he’d been running his fingers through it over and over. He’s still dressed in what he wore earlier. That effortlessly casual fit that always looked too good on him, but now it’s a little rumpled, like he’d been pacing or shifting anxiously.

His chest is rising and falling faster than usual. And when his eyes meet yours, it knocks the air right out of you.

There's something hungry in them. Unmistakable.

He looks like he wants to say something— maybe explain, maybe apologize — but all of it dies on his tongue as his gaze sweeps over you. Slowly. Almost reverently.

Like you’re the only thing he sees.

And when his eyes return to yours, they’re darker now, filled with something raw, something intense.

He's looking at you with so much hunger in his eyes that it makes you weak in the knees. He looks like he wants to devour you. He looks like he needs you; Like he can't wait another second without you, like he’s barely holding himself back.

You open your mouth slightly to speak, but before you can even say anything, he's already on you.

He pushes you back into your room and closes the door behind him. He pushes you down onto your bed and gets on top of you. He starts kissing you passionately, like he's been wanting to do this for so long.

His hands explore you, tracing the familiar curves and planes of your body, igniting every nerve with each touch. The kiss deepens, and you lose yourself in it—breathless and dizzy.

“Beomgyu,” you murmur against his lips, the sound barely a whisper but loaded with feeling.

He breaks away slowly, eyes dark and shimmering with something raw and desperate.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, his voice thick and husky with desire that it's coming out almost shaky,“I need you. I need you so bad, it’s driving me crazy.”

You hesitate, looking away quickly, your cheeks burning, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze.

“I wanted to talk to you first,” you whisper, “About what happened. Before… before anything else.”

His bottom lip trembles, and his voice drops to a whiny, almost heartbreaking tone.

“That’s not fair,” he says, sounding half upset, half desperate.

“You just—you got off thinking about me, and now that I'm here you won’t even help me? Please, Y/N…” He cups your face, turning your head slightly to make you face him,“Don't beat yourself up about this. We both know you want it. We both know that you want me. I can feel it.”

You couldn't speak. His breathy voice, full of desperation and need, suddenly sends a jolt of electricity throughout your body. He's so close to you, and it's making you dizzy with want.

But you can't just jump into this again without even talking about what happened. That's not how it should be.

“Beomgyu...I—” You try to say something, but you can't. He senses your hesitation, and his eyes soften a little.

You try to pull back, but he tightens his hold gently, eyes begging.“It's okay. We can talk about this afterwards...but right now,” he murmurs, voice cracking,“I need you, please.”

His desperation is almost heartbreaking, and despite every warning in your mind, your body betrays you with a tremble.

He's asking you for permission. He's giving you a chance to back out, but you don't want to. You want this. You want him. And that's all that matters right now.

You nod slowly, giving him the permission he's asking for. You move your hand to the back of his head, slightly pulling him in closer. He gets the hint and immediately captures your lips with his once more.

His hand trails down your body, touching and caressing you everywhere. He knows what he's doing, and it's driving you crazy. His hands are so warm on your skin, and his lips are so soft against yours.

You can't get enough of him. You want more and more of him. You want all of him.

His lips trail down to your neck, kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin there. His teeth graze your skin, and it sends shivers down your spine. He's making you feel so good, and you can't get enough of it. He's driving you crazy with desire.

“Been wanting to do this again, couldn't stop thinking about it…” he pulls away just a little, his lips moving up to your ear. He licks your earlobe teasingly as he whispers into your ear, his voice breathy and desperate.

“Fuck, Y/N. You don't know what you do to me.”

He bites your earlobe, and you moan in response. His lips trail down your neck once more, this time to your collarbone. He kisses and licks at the skin there, making you even more aroused.

You can feel his hard cock on your thigh, strained by his pants and it's making you even wetter. You want it. You need it inside of you.

“Beomgyu, please…” You beg, wanting more of him.

He looks up at you and smirks. He knows what you want. He knows what you need.

His lips start trailing down to your chest, his hand pushing your shirt up to reveal your breasts to him. He starts sucking on one of your nipples, making you moan in pleasure. His other hand is squeezing and caressing your other breast, making you even more turned on.

“Beomgyu—!” You can't help but moan as he bites and sucks on your nipples. The sensation was driving you to the edge.

He switches to your other breast, giving it the same attention as the other one. His hand is on your thigh now, trailing up to your pussy. He starts rubbing it through your panties, and you can't help but squirm at the sensation.

“You're so fucking wet, I wanna eat you out. Can I? Please?” He asks as he looks up at you with pleading eyes.

You nod, unable to say no to him, not when he's looking at you like that. And especially not when you want it too. He smirks and immediately takes off your panties. He throws them across the room before diving in, eager to taste you.

His mouth is on your pussy, licking and sucking on your clit. His tongue flicks at the sensitive bud, making you moan even louder. He's eating you out like a starving man, like he can't get enough of you. And you love it. You love the way he's making you feel. You love how he's pleasuring you.

His tongue enters your hole, making you moan out his name. His finger enters you as well, pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. His mouth is still on your clit, sucking and licking at it. Adding another finger inside you, he starts to fuck you harder with his fingers, his tongue still on your clit. And it's driving you insane.

“Feels so good...Ah—Beomgyu!” you scream out, the feeling of his tongue and fingers on you all at once becoming too much for your to handle.

You can't help but move your hips, trying to get more friction. You want more of him. You need more of him.

You feel yourself getting close and close to your release, but Beomgyu suddenly stops.

You look at him, confused and frustrated at the same time. You were so close, and yet...

“Shit. Sorry, Y/N,” he pulls away from your cunt, his face covered with your juices as he apologizes. His voice is breathy and shaky as he quickly takes off his clothes.

“S-sorry…I can't hold it…need you to touch me…” He says as he hurries to take off his hoodie. His hands are quick to unbuckle his belt, and soon he's pulling his pants down along with his boxers, freeing his hard cock. He throws his clothes across the room, not caring where it lands.

You take him in, his naked frame hovering above you. You can’t help but let out a soft gasp at the sight of him.

Heat rushes straight to your core as you take in the sight of his naked body. Your cunt is leaking, and you know you’re already wet for him.

He sees the shift in your expression, and a knowing smirk forms on the corners of his lips. His eyes darken with lust as he looks at you, taking in the way you’re looking at his body. He knows you like what you see.

Without saying anything, he takes your hand and slowly guides it to his hard cock. It’s already leaking pre-cum, and you can feel the heat radiating from it. You can see the pre-cum oozing out of the tip, and you find yourself licking your lips at the sight. You want to taste him. You want to feel his cock in your mouth.

He moans softly as your hand wraps around his cock. You start pumping it, feeling him twitch in your hand as you stroke him.

“F-fuck, Y/N…keep going…” He moans, his eyes closing in pleasure as you move your hand faster.

However, your hand slows down as you lean closer to him. You plant a kiss on the tip of his cock, looking up at him with pleading eyes— as if asking for his permission to take him into your warm mouth.

His eyes open at the sudden change of pace, and he looks at you through hooded eyes. He’s looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. He’s looking at you with so much need and desire that it makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world, like you’re the only one who can satisfy him.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice breathy and hot with need,“You wanna suck me off?”

“Mhmm...” You nod, looking at him expectantly.“Can I?” You ask, your voice soft and gentle. He groans at your words, his hips bucking slightly.

Beomgyu's eyes widen a fraction, and he nods vigorously, the anticipation thick in the air.“Yes, yes, please.” He whispers, his voice strained with need.

You lean in, your plush lips wrapping around the head of his cock, your tongue swirling around the tip as you taste the saltiness of his pre-cum. You take him in deeper, inch by inch, feeling his size stretch your mouth. His eyes roll back in pleasure, his hands finding your hair, threading through the strands as he guides your movements.

You suck him with a passionate hunger that matches his own, your cheeks hollowing as you take him deeper, your tongue sliding along the underside of his shaft. The room fills with the sound of your wet, sloppy mouth working him over, and his harsh breaths and grunts of pleasure.

He's so hard, and you know you're doing it right. You moan around his cock, the vibration sending shivers through him.

“Feels so fucking good...” He gasps, his grip on your hair tightening.

You look up at him, your eyes watering slightly, but you don't stop. You love the way he looks at you when you're like this, like you're the only thing in the world that matters to him.

And just when you think you can't take it anymore, he pulls away, panting,“Wait—not like this, Y/N,” he says, his voice thick with need.“I want to be inside you when I cum.”

Your heart skips a beat and you nod, your cheeks flushed at his words. You're ready for him. You're ready to feel him inside you. You want him to fill you up, to make you his. And you know he wants it just as much as you do.

He moves closer to you, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting you, claiming you. His hands roam your body, touching every inch of you. His touch sets your skin on fire, and you feel like you're going to explode with need. You’re desperate for his touch, your body aching for his cock.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at you. He positions his cock at your entrance, making you gasp as his warm cock slips between your wet folds. He rubs himself on your slit, making you even wetter.

“Fuck…” He breathes out, hissing curses under his breath as he feels how wet you are.

You feel his tip hitting your sensitive clit, and you can’t help but moan.

“Beomgyu...stop teasing…” You groan, your grip on his arm tightening.

You can’t take it anymore. You need him inside you. Now. You’re so wet, and you can feel your juices running down your thighs. You want to feel every inch of him inside you. You need to feel him stretch you out, to feel him pumping in and out of your tight hole. You want to feel your cunt gripping his cock like a vice. You want to be his, and you want him to be yours. And you want it all right now.

You move your hand from his arms to cup his cheek. You gaze at his dark, lust-filled eyes, your fingers moving to touch his soft, swollen lips.

“Please… I need you inside…” You manage to breathe out.

You know there’s no turning back after this, but you don’t care. You want him. You need him. You can’t deny yourself anymore. You can’t deny the way you feel about him. You’ve wanted him since that night, and now you have him.

He looks down at you, his eyes filled with so much desire that you can’t help but feel like you’re going to combust. His fucked-out face immediately darkens, like a switch has been flipped.

“Yeah? How badly do you wanna have it, huh?” He coos, his voice husky and teasing. His fingers find your clit once more, rubbing circles on the sensitive nub. You throw your head back and moan, unable to control yourself. His touch is driving you crazy with want. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and it’s making you feel things you’ve never felt before.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.“How badly do you want my cock inside you? Tell me, baby.” He whispers, his hot breath fanning over your ear.

You felt heat rush to your core at his words, the pet name sending shivers all over your body, your pussy clenching at the thought of finally having him inside you.

“I need it,” you whisper back, your voice breathy with need.“I need your cock, Beomgyu. Want you to fill me up, please…” You moan, your hips bucking up to meet his fingers.

He groans, and you can feel his cock twitch against your slit. He wants you just as much as you want him.

“Please, Beomgyu…” You beg, your hands gripping his hair tightly,“Please, I need you…” Your voice trails off into a soft moan as his fingers continue to work on your clit.

“Fuck…” You hear him whisper, his voice strained.“You want my cock that bad, huh? Gonna feel so fucking good, baby… gonna make you feel so good…” He smirks, his eyes gleaming with desire as he continues to rub your clit.

You nod, biting your lip as you look up at him,“Yes… yes… please… Beomgyu, I need it… want your cock so bad…” You moan out, your hands moving to grip his arms.

He groans again, his cock twitching against your slit once more.“Fuck, if you keep begging like that… I'm gonna give you what you want, baby… Gonna fill you up so good…” He whispers, his voice husky with lust.

He slowly pushes inside you, inch by inch. You gasp as you feel him stretching you out. His cock is so big, and it feels so good inside you; It felt so much better than you ever imagined.

“Ah!” You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as you feel him bottoming out. He’s so deep inside you, and it feels amazing.

He stays still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, but he soon starts moving, pulling out until just the tip is in before slamming back inside. You cry out, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.

He starts pumping in and out, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. His cock is hitting all the right spots, and you know you won’t last long.

“Fuck, you’re so tight…” He moans out, his voice strained.“So fucking wet… just for me…” He bites his lip, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.“You like that? You like my cock inside your tight little hole, baby?” He looks down at you with a grin, his thrusts never stopping.

“Yes!” You can’t help but cry out as you feel your orgasm approaching.“Yes, yes, Beomgyu! Mmmh..!!” His name is a moan on your lips, and he loves the sound of it. He loves the way you're moaning his name.

“Yeah? You love my cock, don’t you?” He smirks as he thrusts even harder and faster into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

“Yes! Yes, I love it! Feels so good!” You moan out, unable to stop yourself. You love the way his cock feels inside you. It feels so right. It feels like it belongs there.

He grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic,“I'm about to cum soon, baby…” He groans out, “Wanna cum inside you so bad, make you mine… gonna let me fill you up?” His eyes darken with need as he looks down at you.

“Yes! Yes! Please, Beomgyu! I'm so close... please..!!” You beg, your orgasm nearing. You want to cum on his cock so badly. You want to feel it inside you when you cum. You need it.

He smirks down at you as he thrusts harder and faster. You feel yourself reach your high as you start cumming, your pussy clenching around his cock tightly. He groans, his thrusts slowing down as he cums deep inside you.

You feel his hot cum filling you up, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips. It feels so good, so right.

“Fuck, Y/N…” He moans as he pulls out, his cum leaking out of your pussy. You look at him, your eyes filled with desire and satisfaction. You know you made the right choice. You know this is what you wanted. You wanted him. And now you have him. And it felt amazing.

He soon rolls over to his back, breathing heavily from his release. You turn to your side to face him, and you soon find yourself drowning in thoughts once again, the ones you buried before when you made your decision, the feelings you never had the courage to express.

And the reality hits you once again.

You just fucked your roommate.

You just let your best friend cum inside you like it was the most normal thing to do.

You don’t even know if he feels the same way as you do. If he likes you more than a friend. If he wanted you more than just sex. You don't even fucking know if he wants you again after this.

You were about to spiral once again when you felt his fingers glaze over your ear, tucking a strand of hair that was blocking your face. You’re immediately snapped out of it when you meet his gaze. He looks at you intently, like he’s trying to convey everything without words. You felt your heart skipping a beat when he looks at you like that, like you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. You see the expression in his eyes shift, but this time it’s different; It's not filled with lust.

His eyes are filled with something you’re more familiar with, one you always see in his eyes when he looks at you but tries his best to hide— the way he always looked at you like this but pretends it’s not what it looks like.

“Do you… like me?” You blurt out, immediately regretting it the moment you did.

He's taken aback, and you mentally slapped yourself.

That was so stupid! Why did you do that? Why did you have to ask that?! What if he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore after this? What if—

“Are you kidding, Y/N?” Beomgyu says seriously, almost offended as if you asked him if the Earth is flat.

You look at him like a deer caught in the headlights, not knowing what to say.

“Of course I do,” he says with finality, his tone leaving no room for argument. You blink in surprise, not expecting him to answer that so fast.

“You’re my best friend. I love spending time with you. I can't spend a day without thinking about you. I like you… I like you so much.” He looks at you with his signature smile, the one he always gives you when he’s teasing you. But this time, there’s no teasing. There’s no denying. It’s all out there in the open. You see the sincerity in his eyes, the fondness, the love. You see everything.

“Yeah. I like you, Y/N. Fuck, more than that, actually. I’m in love with you, and have been for so long,” he says, a hint of shyness in his voice as he admits his feelings.

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. The realization hits you, and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. He likes you. He’s been in love with you this whole time, and he's finally telling you. And he’s not just saying it because he wants to have sex with you again— He’s saying it because it’s true. He’s saying it because he means it. He’s saying it because you’re asking him to.

“Since when?” You find yourself asking, your voice barely a whisper. You're in shock. You can't believe you're actually having this conversation with him.

Beomgyu chuckles softly,“Since the day I met you. You caught my eye the moment I saw you.” He looks into your eyes, his gaze soft.“You stole my heart from the moment you first smiled at me,” he confesses, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask, your voice still soft, but this time there's a tinge of sadness in your voice.

“I was afraid. Afraid of losing you. Afraid of ruining what we had. I was content with just being your friend, your roommate.” He sighs, his eyes looking away from yours, “But then that night happened. And I couldn’t hide it anymore. I couldn’t pretend anymore.” He turns to look at you again.

“I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you. I couldn't help but want you for myself.”

The moment he said that, everything suddenly clicked. You felt so stupid for not realizing this sooner.

You suddenly remembered all those times you became more aware of him when he lingered his gaze on you for just a second longer than he should have. His soft touches that were just a little too long. The way he knew exactly what your favorite foods are, and he’d buy them for you. The way he’d put his games on hold just to listen to you rant about your day. The way he would tell you to stop going out on dates with guys, even though he wouldn’t say why. You thought he was just being nice. You thought he was being a good roommate, a good friend. You thought that’s just how he is.

But now you know the truth. He did it all because he loves you. He did it all for you, because of you.

Because he's in love with you.

You felt your heart beating so fast at the realization, your head dizzy with thoughts you never thought possible.

“Beomgyu…” You start, unsure of how to continue. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know where this is going. You don’t know if this changes anything. You don’t know…

“It’s okay,” he says, as if reading your mind. “You don’t have to figure it out right now,” he reassures you.

“No, I—It’s just…” You trail off, looking away from his gaze.

You don’t know how to tell him. You don’t know how to put into words all the thoughts that are running in your head right now.

“It’s just… I never thought of you in that way… I always thought that I was looking too much into it whenever I noticed how you tried to make me aware of you… it was never anything more than that to me before, but then… after that night… I- I didn’t want to stop thinking about it… about you… I couldn't get you out of my head... and I don’t know what it means, I-”

The words came tumbling out of your mouth without you even noticing, but you knew he can already piece it all together.

You look up at him, expectantly, almost pleading him to help you understand what you're feeling. He just chuckles and kisses you on the forehead, stopping you in your tracks.

“Sorry, you’re just too cute, I couldn’t help it.” He mutters, his eyes filled with fondness as he stares at you. You feel your cheeks heating up, and you don’t know what else to say. You just feel your heart skip a beat.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” he starts, his voice soft and reassuring,“It’s okay to not know how you feel right now. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just… I just wanted to let you know how I feel. I wanted you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what.” His eyes are filled with sincerity, and you can see the truth in his words.

He’s telling the truth. He means it. And you can feel it in your heart.

He loves you. And you love him.

You want to tell him, to let him know, but you don’t want to say anything you’ll regret.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Beomgyu, I'm—” You start again, looking him in the eyes.

“I…” You trail off again, your mind going in circles. You don’t want to make a mistake.

You don’t want to hurt him, but you also don’t want to lie to him.

You don’t want him to think that you don’t care.

You don’t want him thinking that you don’t feel anything for him.

You open your mouth again, trying to find the right words, but Beomgyu cuts off your attempt.

“You don’t happen to have any plans today, do you?” He says suddenly, catching you off guard.

You shake your head immediately, confused by the change of topic.

“Great. Then go on a date with me, and you can tell me how you feel then.” He smiles, that annoying, confident smirk of his plastered on his face.

You're stunned. You can't believe what he just said. You can't believe he just asked to take you out, but at the same time, you can't help but feel the warmth in your chest. You feel like you're feeling everything all at the same time.

You take a deep breath and manage to get your words out.

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

He smiles and kisses you again, this time on the lips. You can’t help the butterflies that flutter in your stomach, and you can’t help but smile back at him.

“Now, go take a shower and get ready. I’ll take you out on the best date ever.”

You laugh and roll your eyes,“Pretty confident there, aren’t we?” You tease him.

“Of course. I’ve seen all your failed attempts at dating. I know what not to do now,” he chuckles.“Plus, I’m going to show you how much you’ve been missing out on by not dating me sooner,” he adds, that annoying smirk back on his face again.

You roll your eyes again at his remark, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads in your chest. He’s being so absurd, so full of himself… and yet, it makes your stomach do somersaults. It makes your heart skip a beat. It makes you smile.

You hit his chest playfully, pushing him away from you.“Ugh, whatever. Just go shower already,” You say, hiding yourself under the covers.

“I’ll go shower first then. Feel free to join me if you want,” he teases you before you can stop him.

“You wish!” You scream back, hearing him chuckle as he closes your door.

You hear his laughter fading away as he goes back to his room.

You’ve been on so many dates with so many guys, and none of them made you feel the way you're feeling right now. You already knew you were going to have the time of your life, even before the date even started. You've never felt so happy, excited, and nervous all at once before.

And then you realized, everything suddenly becoming clear to you.

You already knew what your answer to Beomgyu is going to be.

-------------------

a/n: hey oomfs i'm back!! i missed everyone here so much 😩 just dropped a new Beomgyu fic that I wasn't expecting to get so much attention in just a few days, y'all are the best!! i also didn't want to end the fic there so here's part two!! i hope y'all enjoyed reading this and I'll be back with more(currently working on a draft for Kai..) so stay tuned!! also special thanks to my beloved estelle for the pretty header <33333

taglist: @tyunzznluvr @interestellear @hyunelixbun @dawngyu @tubasmiracle @no1likemybbgcharlie @lovesickchoi-reads @xylatox @delugyu part 2 is finally out!! I hope y'all enjoy this one too!! 🙏

[covenofagatha]

hey!! can you do one where you run into professor agatha at the library while doing homework and it ends with her making you sit on her cock without moving while you study and you're impatient and she ends up fucking you right there in thar secluded corner (with lots of overstimulation and daddy kink if you're comfortable with that?)

Inspiration struck for this one today so hope everyone enjoys

I just started a new semester so probably won't be posting as much but I will do my best to keep writing and putting stuff out regularly. Also will be pausing any Agathario x reader fics for the moment

Learning to focus

When you run into Professor Harkness at the local library while you're supposed to be working on a project for her history class, you find yourself distracted by her (again)

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: public sex, GP Agatha, fingering, cockwarming, daddy kink, overstimulation, it really was agatha all along, slight humiliation?, hints of degradation

The Westview University campus library is always packed, so you usually opt for the local library about twenty minutes away from the school. 

Much quieter and way less crowded. 

And you don’t have to worry about running into any failed situationships or crazy roommates from past years. 

Plus it’s a really nice library, two stories with long glass windows stretching from the ceiling to the floor. Even when you don’t have school work, you often enjoy coming here just to read or play on your computer. It’s a peaceful place, a place that lets you just relax and forget about the outside world and all the stress you feel. 

Stress mainly from one class. Your history class. 

Professor Agatha Harkness was the only one who taught U.S. History when your schedule could allow it, which meant you had to ignore all the bad reviews on RateMyProfessor.com, because you had no other option. 

On the first day, you could see exactly where they came from. 

One boy had shown up five minutes late, practically a miracle on the first day of classes, stammering an excuse about how bad traffic was, Professor Harkness had fixed him with a glare and told him that he better drop the class. 

You were just thankful that you had a class before hers, otherwise you would’ve been late, too. 

She was just as mean and ruthless and cold as everyone said she’d be. Her assignments were almost outrageous and she graded them so harshly it was honestly impressive you weren’t failing yet. 

But the one thing the reviews forgot to mention was how attractive she is. Her long, dark hair that she’d often keep back in a ponytail. Her sharp blue eyes that reminded you of the ocean on a dark night. Her high cheekbones, her pointed nose, her wicked smirk, honestly, everything about her. 

You suppose the more impressive thing is that you aren’t failing with how often you get distracted by the way her fingers on her left hand tighten around the dry-erase marker when she’s drawing time-lines on the board. When she sways her hips and flexes her knuckles which tightens her veins, you feel a tugging in your gut and you have to bite your lip. 

And you definitely should not be noticing the bulge in her pants when she sits back with her legs spread in her chair while the class is taking an exam. 

You have an optimal seat, all the way to the right of her desk and in the front row, so you can take her in without her noticing you too much. 

If anyone looked too closely at you, they’d assume you were sweating because of the forty-five multiple choice and five written questions you had to answer in only a little over an hour. 

That wasn’t it. 

You swore she saw you looking one time, one particular day when she was wearing a blue flannel and loose fitting cargo pants. You were staring, so completely distracted when you should’ve been taking notes that you didn’t even notice she had dismissed the class. 

It wasn’t until you finally realized that she was stalking toward you that you had fucked up. You had swallowed roughly and moved to shove your stuff into your bag when she had put her hands on your desk and leaned in, causing you to completely forget how to breathe. 

“You seemed a little preoccupied there,” she murmured in a low voice, her hint of cologne tickling your nose. “Try to pay better attention next time. Don’t want to have to teach you a lesson.”

You had promptly nodded and almost ran to your dorm to fuck yourself to the thought of her teaching you a very different kind of lesson. 

Professor Harkness is in your head, and you can’t get her out no matter how hard you try. Except right now, you really need to focus, because the end-of-semester project is due in a week and you haven’t started. 

Did she give you the entire four months of the course to complete it? Yes. But you have never been good at working ahead or at time management. 

She had assigned a ten page paper along with a hand-drawn timeline about something that had happened in the history of the United States. You had picked the Salem Witch Trials, and Professor Harkness had winked when you got the topic approved by her. 

So you’re about to spend the next probably five hours in the library trying to make some headway on this project. The timeline should be easy, but it’s the paper you’re worried about. 

You go up the stairs and wind through the aisles of books on the second floor until you get to your secluded corner, the one you always go to, the one with a small table and two chairs hidden by bookshelves and gasp. 

Your favorite spot has been taken by none other than Professor Harkness. She’s sitting in the chair you usually sit in, pen between her teeth, staring at papers. 

When she looks up, she doesn’t even seem surprised to see you and a slow grin spreads over her face. 

“Professor, what are you doing here?” You ask, fiddling with the straps on your tote bag. Should you go somewhere else?

She chuckles. “In a public library in the town where I live?” 

Your cheeks burn. “Right. Um, I’ve just never seen you here before.” And then you inwardly kick yourself because now it sounds like you’ve been on the lookout. 

“Wanted to get out of the house,” she shrugs. “Have some papers to grade for that project due next week. How’s yours coming?” 

“Oh, really good,” you lie, shifting your weight and trying to think of a quick way to get out of this conversation. “Almost done. Well, I don’t want to bother–” 

She interrupts you by sliding the chair out next to her and patting it. “Why don’t you come show me what you have? I can give you some help, free of charge.” She winks, a glint in her eyes, and it makes your stomach twist. 

“Oh, Professor, that’s not necessary,” you say nervously but she tsks and waves dismissively. 

“Please, call me Agatha. It’s the weekend and we’re off campus. Now, come sit.” She makes it clear it’s an order and you gulp before taking the seat. Even being this close to her is affecting your body and you know there’s absolutely no way you’re getting anything done. 

She’s currently grading a paper about the Boston Massacre and it’s drenched in red ink. You’re not sure which you feel more of: annoyance at your over-achieving classmates or absolute dread for how Agatha is going to react when she finds out that you haven’t even started and, even worse, lied about it. 

You take a shaky breath, feeling her intense gaze on you. “So, the thing is…” You trail off, reaching down to pull out your laptop. You set it on the table and slowly open it, silently begging for the floor underneath you to open up and swallow you whole. 

Anything would be better than this humiliation. 

“Yeah?” Agatha breathes, suddenly much closer to you. You will your eyes to not look away from the computer screen and type in your password, praying that you didn’t leave anything that embarrassing up. 

It opens up to the blank document titled Salem Witch Trials, just so it’s clear to Agatha what exactly this page was supposed to be. 

You’d rather it have been porn. 

Your professor chuckles slowly next to you. “Thought you were almost done?” She simpers in that gruff voice that drives you wild. “Did you get distracted again?” 

Agatha leans forwards, resting her elbow on the table, and perching her head in her hand so she can peer at you. Your eyes glance over to meet hers and then back to your computer, but in your peripheral vision, you can see her body tilt toward yours and her legs open just the slightest. 

Your mouth runs dry and you make a pointed effort not to look between them. 

“What’s gotten you so preoccupied, babygirl?” She asks and you clench around nothing at the shift in tone and the pet name. Holy fuck. “I’ve seen you staring in class, you know. You’re not very subtle at all.” 

Forget being swallowed by the floor, you might just combust out of pure embarrassment. 

You try to stammer out something, an apology maybe, sorry for wanting to fuck you, Professor, but no sounds come out of your mouth. Her other hand comes up and teases a lock of your hair and you finally work up the courage to look at her. 

Agatha’s eyes are heated and dark, all the blue practically gone, and her lips are parted just so. And then you flick your eyes down to between her legs involuntarily and you have to bite back a whimper because she’s fucking hard. 

You can see her length through her navy pants and your brain short-circuits. Agatha likes this. Agatha likes you. 

“Is that what gets you all hot and bothered? Can’t focus because you’re too busy staring at me?” Agatha asks, hand dropping to palm herself. She gives her dick a quick stroke and lets out a tight sigh and you have to hold onto the table to steady yourself. 

Heat rushes through your body in an almost unbearable way. “Yes,” you whisper hoarsely. 

Agatha takes her hand off herself and taps a finger to her lips. “Hmm,” she draws out thoughtfully. You can feel a puddle growing in your underwear. “You know, I’m used to the crushes. Doesn’t even phase me anymore, usually it’s college girls who are just so desperate for attention. Not getting it anywhere else and they think that their fifty year old professor will be into them.” 

Your jaw clenches. Is this the part where she rejects you? 

But Agatha smirks and looks you up and down, takes in your squirming body in the chair. “And I never have even considered it. Until you. None of them have been as delicious as you, pet.” 

And it makes your head spin. It’s almost as if you’re in a trance when your hand grabs onto her thigh and Agatha lets out a low moan. 

“Please,” you say, desperation in your voice. What are you asking for? You don’t even think you know. 

Agatha tuts. “Do you really think you deserve anything? This paper is due in a week and you haven’t even started. Doesn’t seem like you should get a reward for procrastinating, does it?” 

“It’s not my fault,” you whine before you can even think about it. There’s something about this side of Agatha specifically that makes your mind turn to mush. 

She raises an eyebrow like she’s daring you to say that again. “I think you need to learn how to keep that pretty head of yours focused.” She nods to the computer screen. “Make an outline.”

You swallow roughly and straighten up, putting your hands on the keyboard. You’ve just switched tabs and begun googling “Salem Witch Trials” when Agatha’s hand lands on your upper thigh. 

You freeze and glance at her out of the corner of your eye to find her scribbling another note on the paper in front of her. You don’t know how she’s so calm and collected when you feel like your entire body is on fire. 

“Focus,” she tells you in that deep voice of hers and you click on the first result that comes up as her fingers begin to toy with the hem of your skirt. 

You try, you really do try, but it’s so fucking hard to read the words on the screen when she’s inching closer and closer to your underwear, which you can feel is absolutely drenched. 

And soon enough, she’s going to feel it, too. You can almost hear her dark laugh already when she realizes just how affected you are. 

Her fingertips brush against you and instead of laughing, she gasps. “Oh, pet, no wonder you never pay attention in class,” she coos and a thrill runs through you despite how embarrassed you are. She effortlessly finds your clit through the fabric and rubs it and you have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip so you don’t make a sound. 

“Agatha,” you say under your breath and you can practically hear her smirking. Why is it so hot that she is still grading the paper as she starts to run her fingers up and down your pussy over your underwear? She dips in at your entrance and a muffled groan tears itself out of your mouth. 

“Is this what you’re like while I’m teaching, too?” She muses conversationally, but you look down just in time to see her cock twitch in her pants. It makes you feel even more exhilarated, knowing she’s just as affected. But then she moves your panties to the side and slides her fingers through your folds and you forget any train of thought you had. You really hope your wetness isn’t as loud as it sounds. “Dripping for me like a little slut? Getting yourself all worked up when I’m talking about the Declaration of Independence? It’s pathetic.” 

You whimper, maybe in agreement, maybe at how good it feels when she pushes a finger into you, but her eyes slightly glaze over at the feeling of your warm walls around her. 

“God, Agatha,” you moan, your own hand coming down to wrap around her wrist when she starts moving. You can feel her flexing with each thrust and your tongue presses against your cheek as you breathe heavily, leaning toward her. 

She presses a quick kiss to your head and scrapes her teeth against your ear before hotly whispering, “Better be quiet, babygirl. And focus. Or I’ll stop.”

You manage to type out three bullet points worth of information when she slips another finger into you and you clamp a hand over your mouth before you moan obscenely. 

Agatha leans over to read what you have so far. “Who was the first woman to be executed for witchcraft?” She asks and you realize that you never finished that sentence. 

“Bridget Bishop,” you gasp, and she swipes at your clit as a reward, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. 

You continue to type, hoping it’s making sense because you can’t even comprehend the words, while Agatha continues to twist her fingers inside you roughly and rub your clit. You can feel your orgasm slowly building, and it only makes it worse every time Agatha hums right into your ear at something you’ve written. Your walls are clenching around her, trying to draw her even further into you, and she can tell you’re getting close, you’re going to cum so quickly around her fingers. 

“There we go pet, such a good girl for Daddy,” she says into your ear and you spasm all around her, the name sending you right over the edge. 

Who knew you’d like that so much? 

Apparently Agatha did, who grins like a cat getting her cream as she fucks you through your orgasm with her fingers, keeping a steady rhythm on your clit. You taste blood from biting your lip so hard but you manage to keep quiet and you finally come down from your high. 

But it’s not enough, you need more, and judging by the straining of Agatha’s cock against her pants, she needs more, too. 

You move to touch her but she slaps your hand away. “Not yet,” she growls and it sends another blast of heat through you. You think there might be a wet spot on the chair underneath you. 

It only makes it worse when she reaches down and undoes her own belt, fiddles with the button exasperatedly, and finally unzips her pants. She reaches inside and your jaw drops open when she pulls out her hard and leaking cock. It’s big, big enough to make your mouth water, and it almost looks painful. Agatha gives herself a few strokes, hips jumping, and she hisses when she rubs her thumb over the tip. 

“Think you can focus while you sit on Daddy’s cock, babygirl?” She taunts. You’ve never felt so empty in your life, you need her so bad, and she’s right there. 

You almost want to bend down and take her into your mouth, taste her hard cock. 

“I asked you a question,” she reminds you roughly, slapping your thigh to get your attention. The sting makes you jump. “God, you really do get distracted easily.” 

You mumble an apology, cheeks flushing. “I can focus, I promise,” you say, trying to sound convincing, but neither of you believe it. Regardless, she smirks and pats her legs and you do a cautious sweep of the surrounding area. This is incredibly dangerous and if you get caught, you both will get in serious trouble. 

But for some reason, the thrill of getting caught only turns you on more. 

So you stand up and straddle her and sit down, taking her cock in one fell swoop. She goes in easy with how wet you are and you bottom out in her lap, the both of you groaning quietly with restraint. 

“Fuck, babygirl,” you hear Agatha huff and you squeeze your walls around her in response. It makes her thrust up and you inhale sharply at the feeling. She is so big and you can feel her throbbing inside you. “Better keep working.” 

You lean forward slowly to move your laptop closer, the stretch absolutely delicious and she chuckles when you gasp as you settle back onto her. Agatha wraps her arms around your waist and you really do try to be good and focus, but every so often, she shifts beneath you and it hits that spot so deep inside you and you can’t help but squirm to try and get more. 

Would she notice if you slowly start moving? Most likely, but it’s worth the risk. You give the gentlest roll of your hips and Agatha moans low into your ear before her fingernails dig into your hips through your skirt to still you. “Don’t even think about it,” she whispers dangerously so you’re forced to sit without moving on her cock that is filling you up better than anything ever has before. 

It’s sweet torture and you write a few more sentences before you can feel your wetness dripping down her cock and out of you. Every so often, you’ll clench around her, too, completely involuntarily, of course, and she’ll buck into you like she can’t help it while breathing suddenly. You’re not sure how much longer of this you can take, the ache spreading everywhere in your body and absolutely ruining you. 

“Agatha,” you whine again, begging, starting to move despite her death-like grip on your waist. 

She moves your hair to the side and nips at your neck. “Yes, babygirl?” 

“Can you please–” you begin, frustration leaking into your voice, tears pricking in your eyes. “Can you please move? Please, I need it so bad. I’m trying so hard to focus, please, can you fuck me? Daddy–”

Turns out, all you needed to convince her was to call her that, because she finally breaks and starts thrusting her hips up and pounding her cock into you. Your hand flies over your mouth and you bite onto a finger to stop yourself from crying out and you wish you weren’t in a library right now, rather be in the comfort of Agatha’s bed or car or office or anywhere but here, so you could be as loud as you want. 

“Let’s see if you’re still distracted after Daddy fucks all the thoughts out of your head,” she snaps and fuck, you’re already so close after cockwarming her for those few minutes. She reaches around you with a hand to circle your clit, which is already sensitive from your previous orgasm and a muffled sound escapes you. Agatha laughs breathlessly and you strain your ears to hear if anyone is coming near you – not that you could do anything about it now – but there’s nothing. 

Thank god this is a relatively empty library, especially at this time of the day, and that the two of you are tucked away in the back where it’s hard to see normally. 

Agatha’s thrusts are getting so powerful that you’re forced to put your hands out on the table for balance which means it gets a lot harder to control your noises. But your professor, ever the problem-solver, comes up with a solution. 

She slides two fingers into your mouth so you can suck on them and so your moans are stifled. Agatha presses her fingers against your tongue, scrapes her nails against it, and draws them out before shoving them back in, effectively fucking both your mouth and your pussy. 

“You feel so good, babygirl, so fucking tight,” she pants into your ear and you gag when she pushes her fingers down your throat. 

It’s so much, so much stimulation from her cock and her fingers and the fact that you’re being fucked in a public library where anyone could see that your orgasm hits you out of nowhere and it’s explosive. You sink your teeth into her skin and she moans, almost being louder before she remembers to control herself. 

You need a moment to collect yourself, but she doesn’t give it to you; instead, she shoves you off her lap and stands up right behind you without her cock ever leaving your body. 

Agatha bends you over the table, hand pressing against your back, and you have just enough awareness to move your laptop out of the way before she sets a bruising pace. The table must be bolted down to the floor or something, because it thankfully doesn’t move. 

Agatha grunts softly with each thrust and you can feel her twitching inside you even though it feels like every single one of your nerves is on fire. 

“Daddy, I don’t know if I can again,” you quietly sob, the pleasure fraying your mind, the sensitivity of your clit making you gasp when she rubs it. You feel like you’re drifting away from your body, dizziness swarming your head. “Too much,” you babble. 

But she doesn’t slow down. If anything, she picks up her speed and tears fall from your eyes. “You can, babygirl, I know you can. You can take it – fuck, you feel so good around me.” 

Agatha losing her composure because of you, just knowing you have that kind of affect on someone usually so cold and unaffected, is starting to build your orgasm back up. 

“Daddy,” you whine, trying to be as quiet as you can. Her rhythm is starting to falter, she’s throbbing and twitching and cursing, fingers scrambling for purchase on your hips, and you know she’s getting close. 

“So perfect, babygirl,” she mutters and you know she’s refraining from being louder, too. “I’ve wanted you for so long, ever since the first day when you walked into my classroom wearing that short skirt.” 

The confession makes you clench and a gasp escapes your lips. You’re climbing closer and closer to the edge and Agatha isn’t far behind. 

“Knew I had to have you,” she keeps going and your body is practically vibrating. 

She’s pounding into you so deep, filling you so good, her cock dragging against your walls in the best way. Her ragged words are getting to her, too; you can tell in the way her thrusts become shallower and shorter like she can’t do anything more. 

You’d make a quip about her being distracted but you can’t form a sentence right now. Every thought in your head is gone. 

“Daddy knows you come here,” she continues and your eyes roll back into your head. You don’t even think you can understand her. You’re close, so close. “Knew you hadn’t started on the project. Knew you’d be here – fuck, babygirl.” She breaks off with a sharp inhale as you squeeze around her at her words. 

This whole thing was planned. She’s wanted you just as badly as you’ve wanted her. And now she’s fucking you against a table in a library because of it. 

She reaches around and rubs your clit and that’s it. 

You cum all over her cock, walls convulsing around her, and she quickly follows, pumping her cum into you. You feel her warmth spreading through you and it makes you gasp. 

Thankfully she pulls out because you truly can’t take anymore and she slides your underwear back into place before her cum can drip down your legs. She turns you around after zipping her pants back up and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“You okay?” She murmurs and you weakly nod. “Is that pretty head of yours clear now? Think you can focus?” 

The question makes you laugh. There are no thoughts left in your head whatsoever. “You do know that I’m only going to be thinking about this in your classes right? You just made the problem ten times worse.” 

Agatha smirks and taps under your chin. “Tell you what, pet. For each day early you turn this project in, that’s one more reward you’ll get.” 

And even though you’re completely worn out, your clit pulses at the thought of more. 

“Think you’ll be able to focus now?” Agatha asks sweetly. You nod eagerly, your brain suddenly able to piece together how you’re going to structure your paragraphs, and she chuckles. “It’s all about finding the right motivation. I look forward to seeing your final project.” She winks, packs up her stuff, and then walks away. 

You sit down in the chair, making a mental note to clean that and the table before you leave, and open your laptop back up. 

Cracking your knuckles, you get to work, suddenly able to focus so much better now. 

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

A Day in Life

Synopsis: A day in your life while working as the Justice League's assistant. Also, they are all yanderes for you and it's Valentine's Day.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader

Tw: 18+ just because of a mention of Superman misusing his X-Ray vision and the mention of hooking up, aside from that, this is pretty SFW; Flash and Green Lantern are a little delusional; Hal Jordan is pushy; Batman is probably a little out of character (and I’m ashamed to keep it that way) bc I can't see him giving anyone flowers as Batman, just as Bruce Wayne; Mentions of them all secretly stalking you; This League members are Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash (Barry Allen), Green Lantern (Hal Jordan; John Stewart is mentioned), Aquaman and Martian Manhunter; I wrote too little about Martian Manhunter, Aquaman here because I don't know much about them; Wish I had more ideas for Wonder Woman’s interaction here too cause I love her; My crush on Hal is very obvious; Reader doesn't struggle much against them but they're also pretty tame; The physics in flying and running at super speed might be wrong but this is comic book science so it's wrong either way; English is not my first language.

Word count: 1,6k

Requested? No.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

The zeta tube flashes and the AI voice announces the arrival of Flash. Your heart goes fast.

— Hey, (Y/N)! — In a flash, he's in front of you. — Happy Valentine's Day! — You tear your eyes off of your schedule on your tablet and see him holding a rose towards you.

— Oh, hey, Flash… — You reply a little tense. — Thank you… You didn't need to. — You hesitantly take the rose from him and whilst your attention is on staring at the flower and holding back a grimace, you miss the glint in his blue eyes. His blush is covered by his mask. His mind seeks for something to say before you decide to break the momentary silence. — You're really sweet, it's great to have a friend like you! — You make sure to exclain, the tone a notch higher, trying to make your point come across. Flash’s face falls.

— Uh- I- Actually- — His speech gets cut off by the zeta announcing Superman. Before you can have a heart attack, the boy scout also zooms in front of you, this time your hair blows back with the wind. He must've come flying.

— (Y/N)’s heart is pounding, what are you doing, Flash? — Superman alternates between looking at your face worriedly, then your chest, then glaring at the speedster by his side.

— What? Nothing! — Flash looks wide-eyed at Superman. Then his mind clicks and he looks at you again. — Wait, what? Your heart is pounding? Is it… Is it because of me?! — You see the dazed look on his face coming to the surface again. Oh boy.

You casually make the effort to take a breath you didn't know you were holding and make your heart go down. You hate when Super uses his X-Ray vision on you. You can never be sure when he is doing it, but why else would he analytically stare specifically at your body when he is worried about you? Also, that time when you commented with Sarah from the kitchen’s crew that you forgot to do your laundry and went to the Watchtower without underwear. Seconds later, Superman appeared in the doorway, looking startled and flustered, ears red. Although he pretended to have just arrived at the tower and you and your friend chose to ignore your embarrassment that your boss with superhearing might have chose that exact moment to focus his hearing on only the places around him, including your too intimate conversation, you still caught him red handed sneaking glances specifically at your hips, and he hurriedly exited the room after that. At the time, you had just recently started the job as the Justice League’s assistant. After that you were a lot more aware.

After a while you realized you had a reason to be.

Superman was glaring at the rose in your hand and Flash was daydreaming while looking at your face when the zeta flashed again and you snapped out of it fast enough that by the time you started talking, your mind didn't pay attention to who had just arrived.

— Hm, no. It's just you fast people are always catching me off guard. — Flash deflates and- Is he pouting? Bro. Superman lights up and looks at you again.

— Oh, sorry, (N/N), we always forget about that. — The alien chuckles while rubbing the back of his head.

— Superman. Flash. — You and Flash jump, but Superman, not surprisingly, doesn't react and just follows you three and looks behind the two heros in front of you to the one with the gruff voice that just arrived.

Flash groans and Superman just rolls his eyes, you can see that while trying to peak past the men’s towering frames blocking you. You don't have to guess much though, because they make space for the newcomer and you suppress a tired sigh at seeing Batman making his way to you with a gigantic arrangement of flowers that covers his entire torso, arms and head, only his bat-ears, legs and cape being visible.

— (Y/N). Those are for you. — Color me shocked. Before you can try to start thinking about how you are gonna take this absurdity anywhere, vengeance speaks. — I'm gonna leave it at your desk.

— Hmhmm. Thank you, Batman. — You refused to watch his retreating form and let any member of your yandere harem think you actually have an interest in any of them and look down at your tablet again. The action makes you remember the rose you're still holding and you hurriedly walk away from the two nutcases stuck glaring at the third and go to his side. — Actually, take this with you. — You stick the rose amongst the rest of the flowers and before any of them can say anything else, you get out of the room.

You take a deep breath. Since the League’s weird obsession started seemingly around a year ago, you had a whole crisis over it. The pay was good, and it increased even more when they took this insane liking to you, so it's not like you could just quit like it was nothing. Besides, it's the Justice League, you could run from the fucking planet and they would still find you. It's easier to adapt.

You go on with your routine for a few minutes until you bump into a neon green brick wall. Scratch that, it's just Green Lantern’s chest.

— Hey, cutie, I was looking for you. — Your eyes widen when the space cop suddenly holds you by the shoulders, pushes you against a wall, then lets you go just to keep his two muscular arms on each side of you, trapping you and keeping you close to his frame. Ugh, the Lantern with brown hair has always been the more touchy one. You miss the one with dark skin and common sense.

— Need me for something? — You hold a groan with the limitless possibilities of how he could use that sentence to be crude, but you just wanted to get rid of him. He smirks.

— I was wondering if you were free today and would like to go on a date with me later… — He knew you were free. You knew he knew you were free. Every time you have a date (and you never told them) the League seems to get more on edge and suddenly your workload increases. Tsk, you hate them. Unfortunately, you love nice things even more.

You raise an eyebrow.

— I don't even know your name. — You point out, maybe that would make him give up, but he just shrugged.

— I could tell you, trust is a fundamental part in any relationship.

— Is a date a relationship? Also I don't think Batman would like that. — Any of that. He cocks his head to the side and his beautiful hair moves down.

— Cutie, you don't have to worry about Spooky. And I don't want to just hook up with you, you know that. Now just stop playing hard to get and-

A golden light catches your attention, it could be a miracle, but it's just Wonder Woman's lasso wrapping around the lantern's neck and pulling him away from you. Unfortunately, she tied a it in a way that the action wouldn't strangle him or break his neck.

— Ugh, men really have no boundaries. — The amazon rolls her lasso back and takes a step towards you, keeping said man sulking behind her while analyzing you. — Forgive my friend, (Y/N). He grew up in a barn. — The stunning demigoddess smiles at you.

Ugh, if she wasn't just as crazy as the rest of them you would happily swoon over her.

— Right. Well, I have to go. — You turn your back to them and take fast but casual steps away from them and the empty hallway. It never fails to scare the shit out of you and give you goosebumps whenever one of them catches you alone in one of those, and the competition between them for your heart somehow makes you confident enough that if there are at least two of them, no harm will come to you.

You clear your throat. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. The martian should’ve arrived by now and you don't doubt he reads your mind 24/7 when he’s close enough.

You’re about to turn a corridor when you spot Aquaman poking his head in a room, looking for something, it's probably you, only his body is visible and he can't see you.

You hold a groan and run as quietly as possible away from him without him noticing, remembering the time he ranted to you about seahorses being the most romantic fish species, with monogamous mate bonds for lifetime, and all the times he promised to show you Atlantis one day and make you rule his people by his side.

A few minutes later when you look at the clock, you know by that time they're all already in their meeting and not wandering around, desperate for a crumb of your attention. To confirm that, you open the camera’s feed that not many had access to and idly check their presence in the meeting room. Your stomach churns seeing your figure in one of their monitors, the others displaying normal missions info. Of course they would follow you around through the cameras, because that's just as important as discussing wars and crisis in Earth countries and other planets.

You passively shut the screen when you finally get to your office, in which you avoid staying until you absolutely have to, or the coast is clear enough to, otherwise it's the most obvious place for them to force an interaction with you.

You look up and your shoulders drop in defeat at the sign of too many flowers, gifts and letters from each member of the League.

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@wandalfnation

[hellsslibrary]

hi so ive been binging ur works lol I love that u write for blue lock and specifically the male reader !!! Sosoo I'd love to request a shidou x mean top male reader ? Like shidou keeps acting out so reader puts him in his place?

I do three things on purpose. I make you cut onions so I don't cry, I cling to you during horror movies because you get too focused, and I bend over in front of you during training because you're a dirty dog (real quotes from my husband as titles day one).

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : You two humiliating a non-existent guy for the size of his dick........ Basic Tuesday for any gays, I guess.

!!Warnings: tom!dom!male!reader, sub!bottom! Shidou, overstimulation, time before the first selection, so you fuck in a room full of other people at night..... So, humiliation of a guy for a dick actually (not in his face tho), sex on a futon, Shidou without hair gel (I heard that someone didn't like Shidou without gel and cried hyperbolically), he calls you 'cupcake' one time.

One hundred and seven times.

You've thought about killing him so many times. Strangle him. Take his head off. Castrate him. Burn him. Drown him... Anything, really. Why is this idiot even more annoying than usual? Who knows. Well, obviously not you.

Your eyes watched him praise a player again. Of course, this is not surprising for him, he is very respectful to good players, but now? Fuck, this is out of bounds.

You can see perfectly well how his hands stay on this guy for too long. And the way his eyes look at you from time to time. It's been repeated too many times today.

Does he want you to crack? But no. He's going to do it today. And it won't just crack, it will come apart at the seams.

The sound of the futon moving can be heard in an almost empty room as your body bends over his, while his face is buried in the pillow, trying not to moan too loudly. Not that he cares about it, but you do very much.

"I'm s-sorry, cu-cupcake, please—!" he exhales raggedly, clutching at the thin fabric, trying with all his might to stabilize himself and his body from your obviously not gentle thrusts, which seemed to knock his soul out of him piece by piece.

A rhetorical question escapes your lips, and an almost animal grin appears on your lips, seeing his condition. "Now we're just barking, right? You forgot how to bite pretty quickly."

Shidou just whimpers, feeling his body twitching from your thrusts inside his sloppy hole. His curls are disheveled on the bed, and some are stuck to his cheeks or neck from sweat. He just couldn't look into your eyes as usual, knowing full well that he would break even more... He dug his own grave after all.

"That guy couldn't have brought you to this state, you know? He definitely has a dick smaller than my little finger," you reason, lowering one of your hands from his waist lower, feeling the muscles of his stomach tighten as you slide over them, reaching his v-shaped line, and then his crotch. "Don't you agree?"

"Fuck, yes! Def-definitely, yes... Probably th-the same size as an a-ant," Ryusei giggles, swallowing his saliva, arching his back harder, which makes you hiss, feeling like he's become a little tighter.

Although his giggles immediately fade away when you grab his overexcited, spent cock. You immediately slap the hand that's trying to stop you, grabbing his length, making him choke on his own sob.

Tears began to form in his eyes, lingering on his blond eyelashes, and then trickling down his cheeks. He couldn't take another round! He wanted to, but probably couldn't. You're huge, you tease him, you fuck him, you humiliate someone for the size of his dick... Did I mention that you're huge? Anyway, it's fucking Hell! He's a fucking puddle under you, even though he wanted to stay under you like that, because that's actually what he wanted.

Maybe you'd be more gentle if your count of murder methods stopped at about sixty.

"Still fucking want me like this, huh? How many times did you cum?" you ask rhetorically, realizing that he won't answer, just smiling, and then slapping his ass, which makes him squeak, and you enjoy his sounds, because you can't see almost anything.

"Don't worry, I'll do it over and over again until you don't even have the thought of leaving me anymore, do you understand?" Ryusei nodded, and his cock jerked in your grip, forcing you to enter him up to the hilt, and then pull your dick out of him, which immediately turns around to look at you. "Or maybe I need to make it so that you can't stand at all without help..."

Shido pales almost immediately, sensing the sincerity in your voice, and then moans too loudly when you thrust into him again. Your hand tangles in his hair, pressing his face back into the pillows so that he doesn't wake anyone up and so that he stops making silly excuses about how he wants you to pull out your dick.

He looked like a black hole right now, honestly. So he'd better not pretend to be a clogged pipe right now.

[bruhstories]

Bet II

p.1 here & p3. here & p.4 here & p.5 here & p.6 here

summary: it's your first day as a cat sitter and things are going more than well. but will they stay that way? pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, mentions of domestic violence, veeeery slow burn, reader is an orphan w/c: 2.2k

a/n: hiii, this is pretty much reader's pov, but don't worry, we'll see things through in-ho's eyes in chapter 3! if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post.

You woke up at five in the morning on the first day of your temporary job. It took you about fifteen minutes to walk to the bus stop, and another fifteen to get to Gangnam-gu by bus, but you needed to prepare breakfast for your uncle first. The last thing you wanted was to anger him. You washed a cup of rice and tossed it in the rice cooker before slicing some pickled radish and a fresh cucumber and carrot. While waiting for the rice to cook, you fried some tofu that you had marinated in gochujang the night before.

Around six you woke your uncle up with the bowl of bibimbap and a cup of freshly brewed coffee, but didn't stay long enough to hear him tell you off about how bad his coffee tasted, or how cold the rice was, all completely false statements. It was just the way your life was since your father passed away and your mother left the country. But you couldn't afford your own place, and you probably wouldn't any time soon, so you took odd jobs to stay away from him and pay his stupid debts.

You made it just in time for Eunjoo's breakfast, stepping through the door at 6:50. There was no cat in sight yet, but the moment you opened the food can, Eunjoo peeked from around the sofa, silently sneaking behind you, apprehensive about rubbing against your leg. She waited next to the water bowl as you scooped the food out and mashed it with the spoon, then bent down to place her plate on the silicone mat on the floor. 

It was only after you got back up that you noticed the mess in Mr. Hwang's penthouse. There were so many dishes in the sink, empty bottles of beer scattered on the dining table, an ashtray full of cigarette butts, takeaway boxes stacked on the countertop, a half-full coffee cup, tissues on the floor. You definitely remembered that his house was clean when you first visited him. Too clean, even, like he suffered from mysophobia. You had a lot to do in that house. And then there was Eunjoo, who, for some reason, refused to eat her breakfast despite sitting patiently next to her ceramic plate, tail curled around her paws.

Panic seeped into your veins as you urged the cat to eat, crouching next to her in hopes that she only needed a little encouragement, but Eunjoo stood her ground. You didn't know what to do, the mess was overwhelming and you frantically paced around the kitchen like a headless hen, not knowing what to do first — wash the dishes, take out the trash, force feed the cat. As though Mr. Hwang could see you, your phone vibrated with a text from him.

Good morning. Sorry about the mess, I had a little gathering last night before my trip. Is everything alright? In-ho 

A little gathering? He had a full-blown party! Maybe it was his birthday, or he had a bachelor party. But the mess wasn't important, Eunjoo was. You quickly saved his number in your contacts list and typed a reply.

Morning! Don't worry about the mess, I'll deal with it later. Eunjoo's not eating, though. Should I take her to the vet? She seems healthy, but I’m worrying.

You waited for his text while sitting on the floor, one hand extended for the cat to sniff it. She did, then went back to her plate, simply looking at you, staring directly into your soul with bright green eyes.

Ding!

Oh, I forgot to mention that she only eats breakfast and dinner when I do. You're going to have to eat something. There's plenty of food in the fridge. 

Well, that changed things. You typically had one meal a day since most of the food back home was eaten by your uncle, and you didn't want to pry into Mr. Hwang's fridge and pantry. Rummaging through your backpack, you found a half-eaten bag of shrimp crackers and shrugged. It was good enough for you if it meant she ate.

"My food." You told Eunjoo while holding the bag, giving it a small shake. "Your food." You pointed at her plate.

As if she could understand your words, Eunjoo turned to her breakfast while you munched on the crackers, nibbling on them slowly to save some for later. God only knew when you could have some more food. When her plate was empty, you twisted the bag of remaining snacks and put it back into your backpack before getting up from the tiled floor. 

"Okay." You told yourself. "First thing's first — scoop the poop."

There were two litter boxes in the penthouse, one in the guest bathroom and one in the en-suite. You checked both without paying much attention to your surroundings, and threw away all the clumps of pee and litter, then turned the TV on to play some music. You started off strong with some upbeat songs, a little rock, a bit of pop. Your father raised you on international music. Queen, in particular, was his favourite band, and so your playlist was full of their songs.

Don't Stop Me Now was perfect for doing the dishes. First, you put away all the dry plates and cutlery before emptying the sink. You didn't even bother trying to turn on the dishwasher, your hands worked better and faster, and with the speed of light, like Freddie Mercury sang, you finished washing all the dishes. Each time you rinsed a plate, you turned the tap off, careful not to waste any water. If there was one good thing about not being rich, it was that you learned to truly care about the environment, and tried your best to fight climate change. But you weren’t perfect. No one was. There were skeletons in your closet.

As the song came to an end, you tackled the takeaway boxes. You found the bin and threw away any leftover bits of food that were inedible, saving the cardboard boxes for recycling, along with the beer bottles. The penthouse was looking better by the minute, and after wiping the table and countertop, vacuuming and mopping the floor, you took your phone out and snapped a picture for Mr. Hwang. 

Kitchen and dining room done!

You pressed send and checked the time — 9:00. Shit, your other job was starting soon. Hastily, you turned the TV off, rinsed Eunjoo's water bowl and filled it with fresh water before checking the automatic feeder. It was still half-full, so you put your shoes on and left with the recyclables and trash bag.

"I'll be back tonight, kitty!"

The bin room was easy to find, and satisfied with the work you did, you went back to Guryong Village, where you taught Ali Abdul and his wife Korean. They couldn't afford to pay you, but when they could, they fed you, and that was all that mattered. It was the only meal you didn't need to share with your uncle, and it was more than enough to keep you going through the day. 

At 12:00 you took two buses to Lotte World, where you worked part-time as a mascot, from one to seven, boiling in the purple bear suit. You didn't mind it when you saw how happy the children were, though. Their smiles and happiness mattered more than how uncomfortable you felt, and on the bright side, it kept you very warm in winter. You had to look for positives, didn't you? Life wouldn't be enjoyable if all you did was focus on the negativity and unfairness of it. And life had been nothing but cruel to you. Yet, you persevered. 

You left the theme park at 7:15 and took the bus back to Gangnam-gu, drenched in sweat. The cold November air made you shiver under the coat as you stepped down the street, making your way to Mr. Hwang's penthouse for the second time that day. Kicking your shoes off, you kept the coat, because the apartment was chilly, and you tried to find the thermostat before feeding Eunjoo. 

Good evening! I hope your trip is going well! It's getting quite cold and I was wondering if I could turn the heating on, more for Eunjoo than for me. 

When there was no reply, you shrugged and opened a can of food, placing the plate on the mat, like you did in the morning, then took out a food container from your bag with leftover chicken karahi from Mrs. Abdul. She was kind enough to give you more, and you took out a plate from Mr. Hwang's kitchen to heat it in the microwave.

Eunjoo ate when you did, as she did in the morning, and you found it interesting that she didn't immediately dig in like your cousin's cat used to do. She had good manners, you thought with a smile. The food warmed you up a bit, and you washed the plate and chopsticks after you were done, but the warmth was soon replaced by a chill running down your spine. You had to start layering up for winter.

Ding!

Good evening, miss. My apologies for not replying quicker, work is hectic. Please turn the heating on and stay the night to make sure Eunjoo is warm.

Oh, that was straightforward. You chuckled at the text, but you couldn't stay the night. Instead, you walked back to the thermostat and searched the brand online to set a timer. You tested it first to make sure it worked, and when it did, you set the heating on every 3 hours. It should be enough for Eunjoo to stay warm. 

I appreciate it, sir, but I can't stay over. My uncle would be upset. I put the timer on and it works, I checked. I'll send you a picture after I scoop the poop and tidy up.

You sent the text and inspected the litter boxes. Eunjoo had the stinkiest poops you had ever sniffed, and as you scooped it out of the box, you couldn't help but talk to her. She was watching you from the corner of the guest bathroom, pupils blown at every movement you made, studying you.

"Girl, this is foul." You laughed, tying up the small bin bag. "Is it even normal for your shit to reek like this?" 

Eunjoo lost interest in you when you were done with her box and ran under the bed in Mr. Hwang's bedroom, while you walked back into the kitchen, dropping the bin bag next to your shoes. You filled a tall glass with water and searched for all the plants in the house, stopping at a small cactus in the living room.

When was the last time you watered the cactus?

Ding!

You got the reply quicker than you expected. It usually took In-ho a few minutes to get back to you, but you read it and laughed.

I don't remember. 

Typical for men to forget, you thought as you watered the plant. 

Ding!

Another text? You took your phone out and read it.

Why would your uncle be upset?

The question soured your mood, and you took a few steps back to sit on the edge of the sofa. It wasn't a subject you liked to talk about. In fact, it was a subject you refused to talk about, but Mr. Hwang had been nothing but kind to you, and you felt like you owed him an explanation. No, you felt compelled to give him an explanation, as though you couldn’t just tell him to mind his business.

He took me in after my dad died. He can be quite strict. It's not that I have to go back home, but if he doesn't have breakfast and a coffee when he wakes up, he'll tell me off.

Okay, so you didn't exactly explain your situation. Mr. Hwang didn't need to know all the details, all the beatings and all the insults, all the money he took from you to pay his debts. But hey, at least you had a roof over your head, right?

You washed Eunjoo's plate and water bowl and left them to dry while sorting out In-ho's laundry — whites with whites, blacks with blacks. There weren’t many colourful clothes, which you thought was normal for a man his age.  You were going to wash them in the morning, but you worked smart and hard, and so you wanted them to be ready for the next day. Loading the machine with the whites, you made sure Eunjoo didn't sneak in it and closed the door, then took a shower in the guest bathroom. 

Just as you promised, you brought your own soap and towel, and let the hot water wash away the dirt and dust accumulated throughout the day. It felt good not having to boil water to wash yourself, and you made a mental note to thank Mr. Hwang somehow when he returned from his trip. Perhaps you could cook him a meal and buy a new toy for Eunjoo, although she didn’t seem very playful, at least not when you were around. Stepping out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around your body, you took a moment to enjoy being able to walk around half-naked with no one to disturb you. 

Thank you for letting me take a shower. Eunjoo is sleeping, the plants have been watered, and I’m ready to go home. Good night, Mr. Hwang!

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @nomugglesallowed @awekbachira @hobiesbrowngf @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair

i hope i didn't miss anyone or tagged the wrong people lmaooo

[dailydoseoffanfics]

⭐️ SELF AWARE FORSAKEN AU (GENERAL HEADCANONS)

⭐️ a/n: my first x reader post that i actually wrote (i think) heh. /silly ANYWAYS this idea has been my brainrot for a while and TBH i'm not sure if I'm able to execute it well but. fuck it we ball 🔥🔥🔥🔥 ALSO I'M ONLY GOING TO DO NOOB, TWO TIME AND CHANCE FOR NOW CUZ THEY'RE THE ONLY PEOPLE THAT I HAVE SOME IDEAS FOR.... (DON'T WORRY I'LL MAKE ANOTHER POST ABOUT THE OTHER SURVIVORS AS WELL)

⭐️ warnings: possibly ooc but I DON'T GIVE A SHITE 🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥 (kinda), also really fucking long

⭐️ reader is gender-neutral so they/them pronouns are used!

(1) <- you're here! (2)

You're a really normal fan about a Roblox game called "Forsaken".......yeah.....totally a really normal and sane fan about that game. But lately, you've noticed something weird about the characters you're playing.

The characters have varying reactions into finding out they're being controlled by something....or someone (you).

⭐️

NOOB (Noob uses they/them pronouns btw if ya'll forgot!)

Bro has NO clue what's happening right.

It was that one specific round, the usual running away from killers, hiding behind walls hoping that they don't get spotted. It just another round. Or so they though.

During that round, while they're in hiding, they felt some type of.....warmth.

They ignored it at first. Could be just instincts.

But this warmth was....growing? In a way that this warmth was growing stronger, and they feel this type of.....force.

It was controlling their movements, and Noob could hear a faint voice.

Noob is looking around, their mind running places. What is going on? Who is controlling them? And WHY are they doing this???

Noob felt their fear increase. It was already bad that they're getting chased by killers every single round, but when they become aware of this type of, weird force, that's somehow controlling every single of their movement, and hearing a voice that's so far yet so close? Not too mention that Noob didn't even know who you are, no face, no name, nothing. Noob just thought that they lost their mind for good.

What's even worse is that they don't if they can actually trust you. For all they know, you might be some kind of sadistic person that controls people for fun and takes pleasure in seeing people suffer.

That's why Noob tried to stop whatever force this is. Keyword: tried.

No matter how much effort they put into escaping this grasp, like trying to go into an opposite direction or just standing still, it wasn't enough.

Eventually, when the round ends, Noob is just in their designated room, laying on their bed, wondering what in almighty christ just happened.

Their mind kept replaying that incident. Genuinely WHO WAS THAT PERSON? AND WHY WAS THIS PERSON CONTROLLING THEM? WHAT DID THEY EVEN DO TO BE SUBJECTED TO...WHATEVER THIS IS???

Their paranoia is multiplied by 10x. Every new round, their face is noticeably more fearful, they're more jumpy, and they're looking around EVERYWHERE. They look like they're on a brink of a mental breakdown. Usually the other survivors got used to Noob's shakiness, but when the survivors noticed Noob getting jumpscared by literally any sounds, that's where the suspicion comes in (Two Time was the first to notice).

Even if Noob feels dread whenever they feel that same warmth, somewhere deep inside of their mind, it feels..... oddly calming?

Overall, Noob is NOT having a good time. Noob will flat out NOT trust you in the beginning, and probably thinks you're up to no good, so they'll try to avoid you as much as possible (even if they fail everytime). You're gonna have to be REALLY patient with them, Noob being trapped in this time-looping game is already bad enough for them. (Think about this video LMAO)

⭐️

TWO TIME (also uses they/them!)

Two Time is......perplexed. They don't know how to feel about this.

Before Two Time gained awareness, Two Time noticed Noob being more jittery than usual. So they confronted Noob about their behavior lately, and (tried to) comforted Noob. (I headcanon Two Time to be a pretty observant person, and while Two Time is usually closed off, they interact with Noob the most. Second being Elliot.)

So this situation about some kind of....force....controlling Noob? Hm.

Two Time thinks about that interaction, and doesn't just brush that conversation off. They will keep in mind of that, questioning about this "force", with furrowed eyebrows and a questioning gaze on their face as they walk down the hallway of the cabin they live in with the other survivors. (I also headcanon Two Time to be kind of...an overthinker. A great listener, but I think they would think too much about things. ALSO also feel like they're generally an anxious and paranoid fella, and it's canon that they're a little crazy in the membrane, so uh, they're pretty much unstable.)

And that's where it happened. Right after that interaction with Noob with a new round started, they felt warm. The type of warmth Noob described, a type of force that's controlling them.

Two Time felt their blood ran cold. Oh...wow. Two Time understands Noob's fearfulness now.

Immediately doing everything on their willpower to escape out of this force even just for little. They're LOCKED THE FUCK IN trying to stand like a statue (with the survivors giving Two Time weird looks and YOU, my dear player, being confused by this absurd behavior your character that you're playing as right now is showing).

Unfortunately, Two Time's attempt was futile, as their legs are jerked forward, forcing them to participate in the round. Throughout the round, Two Time's mind is running a marathon, while also making more attempts to get out this..warmth feeling off of them.

When the round ends, they would....keep this as a secret for some reason. We all know that Two Time's an enigmatic person, they want secrets to be kept as secrets. (Even then, their weird behavior earlier might've confirmed Noob's suspicion that there was, INDEED, something is controlling them.)

I feel like bro would just go from "OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK I WASN'T EXPECTING THIS SHIT HOLY SHIT I DON'T LIKE THIS PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE" to "wait.....what if they're some type of god...omg am i the chosen one ?!?! 🤯🤯🤯"

So the more rounds you played, the more they're starting to think that you're.....a type of deity. And they're slowly starting to stop their escape attempts of the "force".

It's canon that Two Time used to be a part of a cult that believes in the concept of respawning, and this belief grew stronger as time went on, so Two Time thinks that they've been blessed by the gods, and while Two Time can't really hear well of what you're saying, YOU might possibly get them out of this hellhole.

So basically, they slowly went from dreading your presence to......seeking your presence.

Doesn't help that they're pretty unstable though. My guy's gonna look STRAIGHT at you the screen with a smile that you don't whether they despise you or they worship you, which scares the LIVING shit out of you, making you exit out of the game QUICKLY.

And when you exit the game, the warmth automatically disappears from Two Time......which Two Time immediately felt disappointed with. They didn't mean to make you scared! They just wanted to know more about you!

Yeah, Two Time's bummed about that, but now, you're on their mind, and their feelings is having a battle of whether they should be weary of you or trust you.

(Will they eventually be obsessed with you and be desperate of your approval making them do anything, and by ANYTHING, they do for you? Maybe......possibly......likely....)

Overall, Two Time won't trust you at first. But overtime, they'll think you're like a deity or something similar, which is where they'll let you do whatever you want with them. (And where their obsession slowly starts.)

⭐️

CHANCE (canonically uses he/they!)

Chance is.....confused by all of this.

Chance was the third person to notice Noob's weird behavior. Overtime, they also noticed Two Time being...more in La La Land as well.

Chance just shrugs it off. Eh, he just thinks both of them are generally paranoid, and doesn't think too much about it.

HOWEVER, something weird happened to Chance today. When a new round started, they felt something.....odd in their body.

They felt warm, but a type of warmth that is....controlling his movements.

.......Ooooookay. This is weird.......... DEFINITELY weird.

Chance is caught off guard by this, and while some type of force is making him go to who knows what, his mind is jumbled.

Bro is CONFUSED, BEWILDERED, SURPRISED. He's having profound feelings of confusion.

They would be a teeny tiny bit scared at first, because, WOAH, HOLY SHIT, WHAT IS GOING ON????

But eventually, they would become....curious about this force.

Not only do they feel this type of warmth, but they also hear a voice as well......the voice's too muffled. Chance thinks it's probably his luxurious headphones, so he takes them off. The voice's still too muffled, damn. (You definitely noticed Chance taking off their headphones. You immediately go suspicious. Is your mind playing tricks on you or was this just a new animation apart of the new update that the developers forgot to mention?)

I feel like Chance would be the most calm about this. His canon personality type is ENFP, and ENFPs are usually social and open-minded, so I definitely see Chance wanting to know more about you. He doesn't think of you as a scary individual, and yea sure, he may be a little bit on edge, but he feels like you don't seem to be a bad person, which is why Chance becomes interested in you.

Chance would try to communicate with you by looking at the screen and giving you a smirk......which you immediately close your laptop.

Chance feels the warmth disappear, he feels like that one Spongebob meme that has a teardrop, while you on the other hand, feel like you're going insane.

Welp, guess he's gotta find a way to talk to you without making you feel scared.

He wonders if you'll like his pet bunny, Spade.

Overall, the most chill about this situation. He wants to interact with you more.