#Trying not to pull that face waiting for them to realize its not there anymore

[bizarrelovetriangel]

needy.

they joke about you being needy but you take it seriously so you stopped kissing and sleeping with them and suddenly they're not laughing anymore.

mdni. 18+ only. grinding. suggestive but no actual sex. reader enjoys being an insufferable tease <3

sylus.

You pushed him down on the couch and straddled his thighs while one of his hand runs up and down your back, and the other rests on your waist.

He breaks free from your deep kiss with a playful smirk on his face.

"You've been quite needy lately, kitten."

You paused.

Needy?

"Oh."

Sylus froze as soon as he saw the lack of amusement on your face.

"I didn't mean — "

"No, you're so right." You suddenly got off his lap and expertly dodged the hands that attempted to catch you and pull you back down. "I really should calm down, shouldn't I ?"

"No — "

"That's such a great idea, Sylus." you smiled and pinched his cheek. "Let's do something else instead. Let's make cookies!"

That was the start of Sylus' awful week, when he didn't get to touch you at all.

No hand holding.

No hugs.

No kisses.

No sex.

Sylus thinks he might actually go insane.

But he can't lose your game so easily.

He'll toughen up if he must.

He lasted years without you and he had successfully kept his distance from you, no matter how difficult and tempting, until the time was right.

His patience and self-control are not to be underestimated.

He'll be fine.

That's what Sylus keeps reminding himself every time he gets the urge to hold you. Every time his eyes fall to your lips, he tells himself that he'll survive without them.

You're trying to punish him for calling you needy, but he won't give in.

He'll wait until you give in.

It's more fun that way.

Okay, so this is harder than he thought.

It's day two and he's already weak on the knees from the very moment you walked out of the bathroom wearing the dress for tonight's date.

Sylus watched you put on your heels, flashing him a part of your thighs while doing so, and he wanted to run a hand on it to feel your smooth skin.

"Sylus?"

He blinked out of his trance to realize you just asked him a question. "What was that, sweetie?"

"I was asking if it'll be cold in the restaurant you chose, so I can know if I should bring a jacket or not."

He shook his head. "You'll be just fine."

That was a total lie.

It turned out to be cold as your table was specially reserved at a rooftop of a building.

However, it just so happens that Sylus has a jacket and the cold wasn't affecting him, so he was able to give it to you.

With a grin on his face, Sylus pulled your seat right next to his and gently put the jacket around your shoulders, making sure his fingers brush against your skin even if it's only for a second.

"Thanks." as you gave him a smile, you slightly moved closer to his face. "I feel much better now."

Sylus made the mistake of looking at your lips. Without much thought, his head tilted down and his nose grazed yours before aligning your lips.

"Wow! This wine is so good! Try it!" You shoved your glass of wine to his lips before scooting your chair back to its initial place, a couple of feet away from him.

Sylus almost choked on the alcohol but gladly accepted your offer. He put his lips on the same spot that had your lipstick stain on it.

At the very least, he got to enjoy an indirect kiss that should keep him satisfied for the rest of the week.

Or so he thought.

Day four.

The frustration has gotten to Sylus.

It's like owning the world's most valued weapon yet not being able to use it.

He can look, but he can't touch.

It's much more difficult than he thought.

Especially when you're doing everything in your power to make him cave in.

Well, technically, you aren't doing anything out of the ordinary.

Right now, all you're doing is hitting the punching bag in the exact way that he taught you, but the way you look at the moment is making him want to grab you and pin you down — or you can be the one to pin him down. It doesn't matter to him. All he wants is his body to be pressed against yours.

Sylus quietly growled under his breath.

He clenched his fist and started to hit the other punching bag, hoping to take away some of the tension burning inside him, particularly inside his shorts.

You tilted your head and watched curiously as Sylus' punches to the sandbag has gotten heavier, leaving such satisfying sounds at the impact.

"Whoa! So good! You look like you're getting ready to beat up some real nasty bad guys. Did anyone piss you off or something?" You picked up the clean towel nearby and held it up towards his face to wipe the sweat on his forehead. "You do look tense lately."

Sylus' left hand suddenly caught the one you're using to wipe his face. "You're a vicious little kitten."

He gave your hand a kiss before stepping back and patting your head before walking out of the room and leaving you alone.

"Hey, where are you going?! We haven't sparred yet!"

"Shower." He looked over his shoulder to give you a smirk. "Would you like to join?"

You almost agreed in a heartbeat.

But you have to stay strong.

"Nope, I'll just stay here and keep practicing so I can kick your ass the next time we spar."

Your own answer only disappointed the both of you.

Day seven.

You and Sylus went out for a ride on his newest motorcycle at night, on the empty, spatious roads of N109.

It was the worst idea of all.

As the one that's manipulating the vehicle, you're the one sitting at the front and you took advantage of the close proximity by pressing your ass right against his crotch.

Sylus had to concentrate on making sure his grip on your waist doesn't hurt you, with the way his body had gone stiff. Every part of him.

Every bump on the road slammed your hips against him and he had to hold his breath every time. His pants became tighter and tighter by the minute, and his breath had gotten unsteady.

He was sweating throughout the entire ride.

And once you finally made it back to his place, Sylus' patience finally broke.

From the moment you got off the motorcycle, Sylus quickly removed his motorcycle before taking off yours.

As soon as your face was in clear view, before you could even comprehend what was happening, Sylus' left hand caressed your jawline before locking his lips with yours.

Your eyes widened with surprise, though you didn't waste a precious second to kiss him back and pull him close by grabbing onto his shoulders.

Sylus didn't dare to pull away until he was out of breath. Even then, he'd only stop for a second before diving back in like a starved man.

Every time you'd pull back to gasp for air, Sylus would come after your lips and slip his tongue between them to capture yours.

"You win." he huffs in between kisses while your hands run through the strands of his hair. "I yield."

"Heh?" you can't help but grin. "What are you talking about? What are you yielding for?"

"Don't play innocent, kitten. You know what you've been doing." He tapped your forehead as you laughed. "I won't call you needy ever again, so if you could stop teasing me, I'd greatly appreciate it." he whispered against your ear before kissing it softly, "I don't know how long I can keep holding back."

"Since you learned your lesson...." you pressed your lips under his jaw. "You don't need to hold back anymore."

That was all he needed to hear.

Sylus wrapped your legs around his hips and kept you up against him as he made his way into his bedroom.

zayne

You're drawing random patterns with your finger on Zayne's bare chest as you cuddle with him when suddenly, he made a lighthearted joke.

"Your libido has been rather high lately. Based on my record, your premenstrual syndrome symptoms shouldn't be showing up for another two weeks."

You looked up to see the playful grin on his face.

"Oh, is that right?" you huff. "Must be my diet or something. No worries, I'll fix it."

Zayne blinked with confusion. "Huh?" But he received no more response for an explanation as you closed your eyes and drifted oft to sleep.

It was only until the very next day when he realized his mistake when he received absolutely zero kisses.

He was quick to figure out what brought on such an evil scheme.

"Oh, no..."

Day three.

You stopped by his work to join him for lunch, just as he requested.

Zayne observed that you're not angry with him and you have no problem spending time with him. You act normal for the most part. The one big change with your behavior is that you refuse to give him any physical affection.

You didn't even give him a hug as you greeted him.

It feels strange. It's like he's forgetting something as important like his wallet or his car keys.

"Are you punishing me for what I said the other day?"

"What you said the other day?"

"You know... about your high libido...."

He could've sworn a vein popped out from your forehead just now and he does his best to suppress a smile of amusement. He's already in trouble. He doesn't want to dig his grave any deeper.

"Nope! I don't care at all!"

Despite the words that came out of your mouth, you continued to make him suffer.

Later that day, you met up aftet work to drink milk tea while taking a night stroll around the city during such a lovely weather.

The way you were smiling the whole time made Zayne want to hold your hand and keep you close to him.

And yet, you were constantly moving around so much, either on purpose or due to all the sugar from your drink, so he ended the night feeling somewhat emptyhanded.

He hasn't realized until now just how much he enjoys even the little touches you grace him with.

Day five.

You and Zayne attended a formal event.

It's a banquet for the hunters association and you were obligated to come, and he was your date, so you two dressed up nicely to follow the dress code.

Although, if he was being honest, Zayne wishes you two are still in your apartment, where he can have you all to himself.

Ever since he had come to your home to picked you up, he couldn't keep his eyes off you. And throughout the event, he has been rather... uneasy.

As you're eating dessert, Zayne can't help but imagine tasting it from your lips. It has been days since he last kissed you, and he needed to be reminded of your sweetness.

He needed to feel the warmth and softness of your skin underneath your dress.

Zayne lets out a shaky breath before loosening his tie.

It seems that the room suddenly feels hot.

Or maybe it's just his racing mind and heart and the blood rushing down below his hips.

"Zayne, are you okay?"

You scooted your chair closer to him so that your legs are touching. You faced him and put a hand on his forehead.

"You feel warm. Are you sick?"

Zayne lets out a laugh that was half-nervous. "Are you teasing me again?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just worried about you."

He detected from your tone that you are indeed teasing him.

On the drive back, Zayne was clutching the steering wheel as his mind continues to race, imagining all the things that he'd been wanting to do with you. Sitting still became difficult with a bulge rising through his pants.

But yet again, he ends the night without a single touch from you.

And Zayne has decided, he'll never joke about anything ever again.

Day six.

On his day off, Zayne had taken you out for a picnic and the torture continues.

Whenever you two have a picnic, there's lots of cuddling involved. This time, there's none at all and there's the Happy Snowman plushie sitting right between you two as a barrier.

You two are playing kitty cards and Zayne seems to be on top of his game today.

After all, he had a special proposal.

"Whoever wins must do something that the winner wants."

It's a simple but classic prize that no one can ever resist, so you gladly accepted the challenge thinking you'd easily win.

But Zayne's focus is unshakeable.

He's consecutively dropping assist cards to take away your points, and somehow he's stocking up all the sixes.

He won't even let you switch cards by acting cute. That's how serious it is right now. The stakes are high.

After six rounds, Zayne comes out as the winner.

"How could this happen?!"

Zayne chuckles at your dramatic cries, aggressively shaking Happy Snowman as if it was the one responsible for your loss.

Unfortunately for Happy Snowman, it's Zayne's turn to have your attention.

Zayne snatched the plushie out of your hands and set it aside.

"Darling, it's time for me to claim my prize."

You sigh and bowed playfully. "Yes, yes, congratulations for being crowned as the King of the Kitties. What can I do for you, Your Highness?"

Zayne smiled and gently held your chin with his fingers before guiding you to look up so you can lock gazes.

"Kiss me."

Your mouth drops at his request, face immediately heating up.

"Oh."

He found a way to end your silly little game.

He really is a clever boy.

"Your wish is my command~"

At last, you stop holding back against your urges and brought yourself on his lap.

Zayne eagerly welcomes you into his arms and wraps them around you tightly, making sure you don't try to escape.

His lips meets yours with desperation and his hands slides down to your thighs, encouraging you to sway your hips back and forth.

Between the deep and heavy kisses, he mutters, "I joked about you being needy yet here I am, being the needy one. But it's all your fault. Are you going to take responsbility for it?" Zayne pressed you down against his hips to let you feel just how hard he is for you.

"...should we end picnic early?"

"We should end picnic early."

caleb

You stumbled into his room while removing his shirt and almost tripped on his feet as you reached the bed.

"What's the rush, Pip-squeak? And here I thought I was the needy one."

Your hands come to a halt.

"What did you say?"

"I said there's no need to rush, I'm not going anywhere — "

"No, you just called me needy just now."

Caleb chuckles at your furrowed brows.

"I was joking, Pip— what are you doing?" you picked up his shirt that you dropped on the floor and threw it at his chest before walking out of his room.

"Gonna be needy all by myself in my room. Goodnight."

"Wha — hey wait!"

It's too late. You stomped your way into your own room and Caleb is left all alone with a boner that remained standing until his mood died down.

Caleb sent you a bunch of stickers, hoping you'd come back beside him. Sadly, you ignored all of them and he was forced to sleep with a cold, empty bedside.

The next day, Caleb woke up early and prepared breakfast for the two of you as usual. You came out of your room and lazily greeted him a good morning, so he was relieved to know that you weren't really mad.

But once he tried to kiss you on the cheek after giving you a cup of coffee and you blocked his lips with the palm of your hands, he learned that he's not completely off the hook just yet.

"No."

"Huh?"

"No kisses."

"What?! Why?!"

You almost laughed at the way his face shifted, looking like a little boy who'd gotten his favorite toy taken away.

"Because. I don't want to seem needy."

"Come onnnn, it was a joke! I'm sorry!" he tried to embrace you from the back but you stood up and moved away.

"Wow, look how nice the weather looks today!" you exclaimed as you look out the window, admiring the clouds of Skyhaven.

Caleb pouts at the way you deflected him.

Knowing how you behave whenever you're being petty, he has to brace himself for the worst few upcoming days of his life.

Day two.

The pout hasn't left his face.

You two are working out together at his home gym and he's pouting as he's doing push ups.

You're not even sitting on his back and motivating him to do more reps. You're just doing your own sets of excercises in front of him while pretending he's not there.

"Pip-squeak, look. I'm doing push-ups with one hand."

"...."

"Now I'm doing push-ups with just one finger!"

"..."

No matter what he did to grab your attention, he just couldn't get you to look at him.

But what if....

"Whew, it's so hot in here."

Caleb took off his shirt and threw it aside.

He tries not to grin as he caught you sneaking glances from the corner of your eye.

Now, he'll do pull-ups on the bar right in front of you.

Or at least, that was the plan.

His shirt was thrown back at his chest just like the other night.

"Caleb you dummy. You'll get cold."

You walked out of the room and he was back to pouting.

Day four.

You went back to Linkon at Monday morning. Caleb couldn't believe he lasted four whole days without getting a single kiss from you. He didn't even get to hold your hand or pat your head.

The lack of physical affection and intimacy should be nothing to him since he always had to hold back from acting on his feelings for you. He was willing to wait forever for you.

But now that he thinks about it, he'd always been touchy with you.

Even before you were in a romantic relationship, he'd given you plenty of hugs, he'd given you lots of forehead kisses, he'd hold your hands whenever you let him, he'd hold you when you don't want to sleep alone, and he'd even kissed your cheek during the times whenever you pretended to be a couple.

Physical affection has always been a part of your relationship.

Taking it away is like taking away a pilot's airplane.

Well, maybe it's not that drastic but it surely feels that way to Caleb.

Now that he's able to kiss you and hold you whenever he wants, he can't stop. He loves being with you and becoming one with you.

He can't help but seek for your touch.

It's only been a few days but he misses your warmth. He misses how you taste. He misses the sounds you'd make.

Oh, he definitely won't survive for long.

This scheme of yours has to end now.

Day five.

You got a good jumpscare when The Colonel showed up at your doorstep at night, in his full uniform and all.

Before opening the door, you peeked through the peephole and took note of his serious expression, just as The Colonel often appears as.

But the scary demeanor vanished the moment you oppened the door.

His face lights up and you're flashed with the warm smile you've used to seeing.

"Caleb! What are you doing here?!"

"I just dropped by to bring you something you forgot at my house. It's pretty important so I thought I'd make a trip to Linkon so you don't worry about it."

You let him in your apartment, trying to recall what you could have forgotten. You were able to get through a long day at work without noticing anything missing, so what could've been that important that he had to give to you immediately?

"What did I forget?"

Caleb dug something from one of the pockets of his coat.

"Ta-da! Here you go~"

Caleb took your left hand and dropped something to your palm.

".....Are you being serious right now?"

A hair clip.

"What? It's something that you use every day, is it not? I know you were probably feeling weird without it. You're welcome."

"...I leave this behind on purpose. I always use it whenever I'm at your house, every time I'm doing my hair. It was meant to stay there."

Caleb laughs and scratches the back of his head. "Oh, my baaaad, Pip-squeak. Ah, but since I'm already here, might as well have dinner together!I'll help you cook~"

He removed his hat and coat before entering your kitchen. You're in the middle of making dinner too, so he somehow arrived perfectly on time.

You should've known he came in with a mission.

As he goes around the kitchen, he does everything possible to accidentally touch you.

He'd lightly bump into you and touches your shoulder as he apologizes.

His hand brushes against your waist to move you aside so he can pass by.

He stands behind you and reaching over you so he could get some containers on the cabinet, making sure to grind his hips against your ass just for a brief second.

Eventually, you found yourself cornered against the fridge.

"What are you doing?"

"Making dinnner." you glare at him and he was quick to give you a pout. "...And trying to win your attention because you've been so mean to me by neglecting me."

"Neglecting?" you tilted your head. "But I thought I was being needy."

Caleb groans before completely losing his patience.

He pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry! I won't say it again! Please don't punish me anymore I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry — " his embrace starts getting tighter at every word, making you cough dramatically.

"Jeez, alright fine! I get it, now let me go — "

"Never!"

Caleb lifts you off the ground and nuzzles his face against yours. "So soft and so warm ~"

"Caleb, the pot is boiling!"

"The pot can wait. I'm busy."

"Caleb — " the sizzling noises from the stove forced him to jump away from you.

"Okay I'm coming!"

rafayel

"You don't need to be so needy cutie, I'm not going anywhere~"

You pulled away from his kiss and raised a brow at him. "Needy...?"

Rafayel's eyes widen as he realized what he just said. "I — I was just joking!"

"Right..."

You laughed along but five minutes later, the kisses suddenly stopped and your attention shifted to your phone to play a silly game (one that he recommended to you in the first place).

Rafayel didn't think much of it. He was able to cuddle with you as the two of you fell asleep that night.

But once he woke up, things started to seem weird to him.

As you left to go to work, you didn't give him a kiss. You always give him a kiss. You rushed out of the studio before he could even remind you about it.

He didn't get to see you for the rest of the day because the Wanderers robbed him all of your time and energy.

At the very least, he was able to videocall with you and chat with you about how your day went. Though, seeing your sleeping face made him wish he was next to you so he could comfort you and ease your exhaustion.

Day two.

You joined him for a stroll at the beach and helped him collect some shells. He tried to hold your hand but you not-so-subtly moved away from him.

The face he made was worthy of a drama actor award.

"Are you worried I'd give you a virus? Come here, cutie, I'm perfectly clean. I just took a bath an hour ago."

"No no, just don't wanna seem clingy, that's all."

Rafayel took a moment to figure out what prompted that response.

"Waaaait, you're not really mad about me calling you needy, are you? It was just a joke, Miss Bodyguuaaard..."

"Mhmm."

Rafayel sighs as he realizes you're going to prolong this cruel revenge of yours just a little further. It's good that you're not really mad, though he can't help but pout about it.

He had to walk through the beach with you so close yet so far from him, and his hands have never felt so cold and lonely.

You don't even always hold his hand, as sometimes collecting sea shells require all hands available, but now that he's aware of your punishment, he can't help but notice that he really loves holding your hand and giving you little kisses.

Without them, his day feels incomplete.

Day three.

You showed up at Rafayel's art exhibition and he's acting like you just dumped him.

"Oh, I didn't expect you to show up today, Miss Bodyguard. I thought you'd forgotten all about me."

He showed you one painting that you haven't seen finished until now.

"This is inspired by the gaping hole in my heart because my beloved has left me."

Trying not to laugh, you flicked his forehead. "Your beloved saw you this morning for breakfast and watched you get scolded by Thomas because you weren't ready for your event on time."

Rafayel huffs. "Well, I would have woken up early and would've been prepared on time if only I went to sleep early. But I couldn't sleep early because my beloved is being mean to me and won't let me kiss her."

"Weeeell, that sucks for you." you patted his shoulder. "I'm gonna go check out that lovely painting over there. See you later."

Rafayel followed you the entire time, walking so closely beside you so his hand would constantly brush against yours.

Once you reached an empty room, he stood right behind you and put a hand on the wall next to the painting that you're admiring.

His lips brushed against your ear after taking a whiff of your neck. "This perfume... it's the one that I really like..."

It was indeed the scent that makes him act like a cat that's high on catnip. You wore it on purpose, solely to get the reaction that he's giving right now.

Rafayel's lips brushed against your neck like a feather, testing the waters to see if you'd push him away.

So far, you do nothing but stare at the beautiful painting he worked months on.

His right hand landed on your stomach and gently nudged you back so that your body is right against his.

His kisses grew a little bolder, lingering on your skin a little longer.

But then, the sound of footsteps coming close forced you to spring away from him.

You held back a grin at his red face.

"This has been a wonderful exhibit, Sir Rafayel. Thank you for the tour."

"...Hmph..."

He crossed his arms and looked away, trying to calm down his racing heart.

Looks like his body craves for you more than he realized.

Day four.

"I got here as fast as I could! What's the emergency?!"

You slam the bathroom door open to find Rafayel chilling in his bathtub, naked body submerged in warm water mixed with pink foamy soap.

"...."

"Oh, good, you're finally here." Rafayel sighs with relief. "Miss bodyguard, you have to help me. I slipped from a paintbrush earlier and hurt my right arm, so I can't move it around easily because it hurts. Will you help me with my bath?"

"How did you get in the bathtub in the first place if your arm hurts so much?"

"Don't worry about it, cutie. That's in the past. I like to focus in the present."

You shook your head, though you're unable to hide a smile from his silly yet clever response.

You knelt down beside the bathtub and started petting his head. Right away, he closed his eyes and leaned in towards your touch.

You lowered your hand to his neck and brushed slowly your thumb against his skin just under his jaw, and you caught him gulping nervously.

Next, you slid your hand down to his chest, drawing random shapes between his pecs, causing his breath to stutter.

"But now that I think about it... how does one get help for taking a bath?" you asked. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

Rafayel caught your hand before you could even think about pulling away and leave him hard, just like yesterday at the exhibit.

"I just need you... to move your hand... just a little lower...."

Your face heated up at his low tone. His face had turned into a dark shade of red, flushed from the warmth you've made him feel with just a few light touches.

"You better be careful." you whispered, moving your hands down as slow as possible. "With how you sound just now, someone might think that you might be a little....needy...."

Rafayel opened his eyes but didn't move a single muscle. His hand remained on top of yours, letting you wander to wherever you want to.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm the needy one." he kept his gaze fixated on you. "I need to have you close to me. I need to hold you. I need to feel you."

Your face burned.

As did the rest of your body.

At last, your hand reached where he needed you to be.

Stiff and twitching, just for you.

Your core clenched as you recall the way he feels inside you.

"If.... if I'm gonna help you take a bath, you better make some room for me."

Rafayel has never moved so quickly.

xavier

Xavier breathes heavily on his bed, face flushed and chest heaving, glistening with sweat. You're lying next to him, equally spent after getting lost in each other's bodies.

"We've been doing it so much lately, I'm starting to feel sore." he says with a chuckle, putting one hand on his neck and shoulder.

"....You're right." you softly tapped on his chest as if to give him comfort. "Don't worry, I'll let you recover. Let's not do anything for a while."

Xavier's eyes widen. "What?! That's that not what I meant — "

You let out a yawn. "I'm sleepy. Goodnight, Xavier~"

"Wait — "

"Goodnight, I said."

Day one.

You had to be joking, right?

You were probably just so tired and blurted out such a hasty statement.

You probably don't even remember what you said.

Xavier didn't forget, though. He couldn't, even if he wanted to.

When he woke up at noon, you were already at work. You made breakfast for him. If you were really upset with him, you wouldn't have cooked anything for him.

So, everything should be fine.

He arrived at work and the very first thing he did is greet you at your station. You're behind your desk, busy with a report on your computer.

"Good morning."

He leaned down to give you a hug. Although you didn't return it, you didn't deflect him.

That means you really were just bluffing. Everything is fine.

"Good morning, Xavier."

Fast forward to a couple of hours later, you two are investigating an abandoned but recently used building that's been raided by Wanderers.

There was a suspicious man on site, so you hid somewhere so that you can observe him for any possible leads.

Xavier pulled you into a room that looks to be a supplies closet, which was luckily clean enough to not contain any foul smell that would make it unbearable for you to hide in.

You stood by the door that's slightly cracked open so that you can keep an eye on the suspicious man.

Xavier stood right behind you with absolutely no space between your bodies. His left hand made its way to your waist while his lips brushes against your neck.

Before he could do anything else, you turned around and covered his mouth with one hand.

"Hmm? What are you — "

"Shhh. We need to be quiet."

Okay, so you rejected his attempt to makeout.

But that was only because you couldn't risk missing out on any leads and had to focus on the suspicious guy, right? That's all. Everything is fine.

Everything is not fine.

He caught you on a conversation with Andrew and you were touching his shoulder. Then you spoke with Simone and you were touching her arm.

But when he talked to you, you didn't touch his shoulder or anything. You didn't touch his hand and you even moved away when he tried to touch yours.

For the final check: the Pocky test.

Once you're back in his apartment after work, Xavier decided to share his last box of Pocky with you.

As you were eating one, Xavier quickly went up to you.

"Wait, let me check if yours is good."

He continued to eat the stick of Pocky until he's closer to your lips.

But then you suddenly pulled back and ate the rest.

"Wah — "

You gently patted his cheeks. "Nice try."

So, it turns out you knew what he was doing and no, you were absolutely not going to give him kisses today.

And so, sulky Xavier makes his return.

Day two.

Xavier decided to get revenge for taking away kisses and cuddles by showing you the most horrifying scary movie on both of your watch list.

You two are sitting on his giant bean-bag chair, sharing a blanket while your eyes are glued to the TV screen, unable to look away at the bloody scene of another character getting ripped apart.

Little did you know, Xavier is mentally cheering.

For every jumpscare, you scoot closer and closer to him. Around halfway of the movie, you're sitting on his lap yet you're too focused on the movie to realize it.

Xavier kept quiet and rested one hand on your thigh, while the other casually shoves popcorn in his mouth.

As the end credits started to roll, Xavier got up to refill your drinks so that you can have more for the next film, which is another horror one.

"Wait where are you going?!" you grabbed his hand before he could start walking towards the kitchen.

Xavier almost laughed at your expression. "I'm just going to get us more drinks. I won't be gone for long. Just sit here and relax."

"You're not scared even a little bit?" you murmured, tightly hugging a pillow. Right now, your brain is imagining the killer in every dark spot of the apartment.

"I'll be fine~"

Five steps forward and he suddenly turns around.

"Are you really that scared?"

He uses his evol to shine a bright light on his face while pulling a silly expression, mocking the one that the killer from the movie wore.

"Ah!"

His plan worked a little too well because now, you can't sleep alone.

"Are you really that scared?" he asked, walking up to the bed, watching you hug Bunbun with your dear life. "We fought Wanderers that are much worse. If you were in the movie, I bet you'll make a good final girl that'll outlive the killer."

He sat next to you and smiled as he put a hand on the plushie.

"Bunbun can go now. I'm taking over his job in protecting you while you sleep."

You gasped as he snatched the plushie and threw him across the room.

"Xavier!"

"Ssshh, I got you."

After turning off all the lights, he laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him, with your back against his chest.

The second you closed your eyes, your mind starts replaying the scariest parts of the movies you just watched, causing you to shift uncomfortably.

You hear a faint gasp behind you, but you ignore it as you're trying to block off the scary images in your head.

"Ugh! It's no good! I need a distraction."

You turned around to get your phone on the nightstand, but then you come face to face with Xavier.

"A distraction?" he leans close to you so that your noses touch. "I can give you a distraction, if you want."

"....nope, I'm good." you turned back around with a huff. "Don't wanna make you sore."

Xavier laughs and nuzzles his face on your neck.

"I'll remember not to joke about something like that ever again. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

"....are you also sorry for making me watch those really scary movies?"

"Well.... not really...."

They were excellent movies, after all. Aside from the scary parts, he could tell you enjoyed it overall.

"At least you're honest."

A few seconds later, Xavier starts to pepper kisses all over your neck and jaw.

"Do you still need a distraction? I can help you get your mind off of anything scary."

You let out a quiet moan as he softly pushed his hips against yours.

"Just focus on me."

From the moment he got on top of you, you forgot about everything — your silly scheme and the horror movies.

Right now, there's only Xavier.

[heartswithinreach]

your post about sylus essentially conditioning the reader to sit on his lap hasjsakddf that was so perfect and in character 😭 i love it sm its given me so much brain rot - how bout this:

can i request the lads boys reaction to the reader randomly asking to be carried/picked up in the middle of walking? for no other reason just to see how'd they react lol

LaDS casually carrying MC

Xavier

The most casual. He just smiles at you and asks, "Bridal or piggyback?" in the same tone as if he's asking what you want to eat.

And he's not just playing along. He means it. He wants to be the one you lean on — metaphorically and literally.

You can try and backtrack but then you'll get those eyes. The bluest puppy dog eyes that can break the strongest of wills. "Are you sure? We still have a few blocks to go to the café, I don’t want you to get tired..."

You feel like you're holding out on him by not letting him carry you. The mind tricks this man is capable of to get what he wants are ridiculous.

You fold embarrassingly fast and Xavier is happy as can be with you on his back, your arms and legs around him like a full-body embrace. He can see the tactical advantage to carrying you like this during missions, too.

Rafayel

"You want me to carry you?“ Rafayel scoffs. “What if I pulled a muscle in my arm and couldn't draw for a week? No thank you!"

He refuses until you ask if it's not that he doesn't want to carry you, but that he can't.

Now you've wounded his pride. He might not be the God of the Sea anymore, but he can't let this go unanswered! Rafayel will be on you relentlessly to let him pick you up, no matter how long it takes.

"Whoa, be careful, cutie! There's no telling how deep these puddles are from all the rain — you're super lucky your boyfriend is here to carry you to safety."

When you finally break and let him do it just so he can prove a point, he realizes he likes this way more than he thought he would. You're like his adorable little prisoner and the only way you're getting out is in praise and smooches. This will become a regular thing, I fear.

Zayne

“I told you to wear more comfortable shoes.”

Zayne inwardly grins at how quickly you deflate at his blunt response. It's adorable.

But Zayne has a hard time denying you something so innocent as wanting to be close to him. So he guides your arm to wrap around his shoulders and picks you up with a strength that always takes you by surprise.

He waits for you to settle comfortably in his arms before he starts walking. He's aware of the disapproving stares from the people around you and not too long ago, he would've been one of them. How quickly his perspective has changed because of you.

Zayne is brought out of his thoughts when he feels you peck his cheek and now you get that oh so familiar look of gentle reproach from him. "I am working on being more affectionate but I'm not there yet, MC. Now, behave or your ride will end early."

Sylus

Sylus is so caught off guard that, for once, you can see his entire thought process play out through his expressions.

Surprise at your request, suspicion you're just toying with him, the realization you're being somewhat serious, and then the most gratified look you've ever seen on his stupid smug face.

Now you’re speaking his language. So delighted you’re finally catching on, he just picks you up and continues on his way without breaking his stride.

However, you didn't specify how he should carry you. So you're draped over Sylus's shoulder and to keep you there, his hand is dangerously high up on your thigh for being in public. The smack on your ass is so inevitable, you can feel it like it's already happened.

"You just said you were tired, now you want me to put you down? You need to learn to make up your mind, kitten. I'll just carry you until you're sure of what you want."

[mggslover]

MILE HIGH — aaron hotchner

In which whiskey and your short skirt make a combination that is too tempting to wait till the jet lands.

genre smut (18+) cw fem!bau!reader, established secret relationship, dom!aaron being a tipsy, horny, possessive fucker, slight dubcon?, fingering in front of the (sleeping) team, bicep biting, hair tugging, blow job, rough jet bathroom p in v wc 4k a/n first kinkfest request :) for the kink: “exhibitionism”

The warm glow of amber city lights illuminates the night sky as you watch out of the round jet window. One more hour until you land in Quantico, Virginia. You had just left Michigan, finishing up a case of an unsub who had a body count that would give any person the shivers. The relief had been immense when Aaron had cuffed him and pushed him in the cops’ direction — not your problem anymore. 

A celebration was only to be expected after a case like this. Rossi had opened up a bottle of Macallan, one of the finest whiskeys one could find. It was meant as a pre-drink, everyone was so excited and energized that the plan was to visit O’Keefe’s once landed. That wasn’t going to happen anymore, though.

Looking around, all you see are sleeping colleagues — the whiskey having conked them right out. To your right, JJ lies asleep on a single chair, head rested against the wall, blonde hair splayed all over her face. In front of you sits Derek, headphones on, position so slumped that he almost disappeared underneath the table that separated you. Your eyes wander further until they land on Aaron.

A smirk lingers on his face as you finally find his gaze, as if he was waiting for the moment. He reaches out his arm, giving cheers, before bringing the glass of liquor to his mouth and taking a sip. You smile back, lifting yourself from your chair and making your way over to him. 

“The last men standing,” you joke as you spot Spencer asleep, long legs dangling uncomfortably off of the couch. Then in the two seats in front of Aaron, Rossi and Emily are off to dreamland as well.

“Are we sure there are no sleeping pills crushed in there?” You ask, eyeing the bottle that stood on the table in between the four leather seats.

“I’m sure. Otherwise I’d be out too,” Hotch answers, placing his empty glass on the table with a clank. “Want some?”

You shake your head. “No, thanks. It would be wise for at least one of us to stay sober.”

He hums in response, patting the empty seat next to him. A giddy smile makes its way onto your face. You never sit next to Aaron. Not because you don’t want to. Definitely not because of that. But because of the relationship you’ve been trying to keep a secret. What you had with Aaron was still fresh; finding yourself in this weird stage where you knew each other well enough because of work to call it dating, but one where putting an official label on it felt too intimidating. 

One thing that was certain was that you were still in the honeymoon, head-over-heels phase (and you questioned whether that period would ever end when dating Aaron Hotchner). It was for your own safety to try and keep as much distance as possible, not being able to keep your hands off of each other when being too near. It was like his presence physically pulled you to him wherever you were. And now you’ve found your way back to him again — the only ones awake. 

You sit down on the beige padded seat, comfortably falling into the cushions. Not even a second later, Aaron’s large, warm hand made contact with the bare skin of your knee, making the skirt you’re wearing ride up your thighs. 

A rush of electricity tingles through your bones because of his touch, a mix of excitement and anxiety, but your nerves quickly calm as you realize that no one is awake, no one can see you. You’re fine.

Feeling confident, you place your hand atop his, interlocking your fingers and leaning into the warmth of his figure next to you.

“Imagine the day we can do this without feeling like two teenagers sneaking away in the middle of the night.”

You chuckle at your own comment, but there’s no response from Aaron. The air around you remains silent. You tilt your head at him, finding his gaze intently focused on your intertwined hands.

“Aaron?”

He hums. Recognition flashes in his eyes as he blinks his prior thoughts away. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your face. “One day, sweetheart.”

The royal, vanilla scent of liquor was evident on his tongue as he spoke. He presses another kiss to your skin. The moment lasts longer this time, lingering. His hand moves on its own accord, warm fingers slipping out of your grasp and finding their way to your inner thigh.

“What are you doing?” You whisper, a hint of a warning in your tone.

“Not allowed to touch my woman now?”

Your skin heats, momentarily forgetting all about your surroundings until Rossi lets out a snore in front of you. 

Your expression turns stern. “Whatever is on your mind, we’re not doing it.”

A frown etches into his face, then he leans in again. Like he was briefly offended by your rejection until he decided that he didn’t care. His large palm cups your face, and you freeze when his lips brush against yours, ever so softly, before pecking them.

“We can’t-“

A tug on your hair stops you in your tracks. The action is sharp enough to shut you up. Aaron empties your mind of all of your worries when his whisky-kissed lips ghost over your neck and move to the shell of your ear. 

“We can,” he argues. “If Reid were awake he’d tell you that the chances of them waking up in the next thirty minutes are close to zero.” 

Thirty minutes. That gives you enough time to do all the dirty things that are currently flashing through your mind. 

“It’s very naughty to be wearing a skirt like that around me,” he says in a heavy breath, tongue darting out to lick the spot where your ear meets your neck. “You must know that, right?”

You swallow, trying to gain the courage to tease him back. “I assumed you had more self-control. You had no trouble resisting me before we were together.”

He chuckles against your shoulder, a rush coursing through your veins. You could feel the goosebumps forming on your skin, your nipples hardening under his proximity.

“It just seemed that way. I bet you aren’t aware of the restraint it took me to not bend you over whenever I saw you.”

His fingers grasps your thigh, squeezing the skin firmly. 

“Hm?” He hums when he felt you tense under his touch, a small gasp escaping you. “Did you ever wonder how much restraint it took me to not push up this tight little skirt?”

His hand moves up, teasing the edge of your skirt, before slowly pulling the fabric up your legs. 

“How badly I wanted to find out if there was indeed a damp spot, right...” 

His hand parts your legs possessively, the heat of his fingers brushing up your inner thighs and leaving a scorching fire in their wake. 

“Here.”

The moan that you let out was all but voluntary, leaving your lips before you could stop it. 

Two of Aaron’s thick fingers were pressed against your clothed cunt, making contact with the wet spot that he had in fact predicted. You tried catching your breath, but the attempt quickly failed when he used the flat of his palm to rub you up and down, cupping your pussy in his strong hold.

Another squeak breaks the silence on the jet, and you bite down on your bottom lip, heart racing as your eyes flick over the sleeping figures around you. The warmth in your core is building with each move of his hand. The roughness of his calloused fingers stimulating your clit even through the fabric that separated you. 

You make the mistake to move your head, your sight falling on the unmistakable length that’s straining against Aaron’s pants. He wasn’t even trying to hide the way that his hardness bulges against the black cotton.

“You’re not the only one turned on by this,” he explains, noticing you staring. 

“I’m not turned on by this. This- this is crazy,” you defend. You’re not even sure whether you’re trying to convince him or yourself at this point.

Amusement laces his words. “Is that so?” In a smooth motion, he hooks his middle finger into the side of your underwear, pulling it aside to reveal your glistening cunt. You hold back a moan as the cold air makes contact with the sensitive skin. 

“Seems like you’re rather turned on by this,” he gloats as he lets his finger disappear between your folds. As if his body is a missing puzzle piece to yours, he enters your pussy by a simple press of the digit — fitting perfectly like he’s made to fill you up. 

With just a slight curve of his finger, he’s hitting your sweet spot. Your hand lunges forward, fingers locking around his wrist. It was a brave attempt at trying to stop him, but who were you kidding? With your hard nipples poking through your lacy bra, against the thin silk of your blouse, your eyes half fluttered shut, your mouth open in an O, and your juices trailing down your thighs… there was no possible way for Aaron to give up.

“Trust me, honey, you have nothing to worry about,” he coos into your ear as his finger finds a steady rhythm. 

You close your eyes, trying to enjoy the moment. You had missed his touch. You’ve been on the case for several days, not even having the time for a proper sleep, let alone for sex. It was obvious how much you missed him by the way your walls clenched around him and how your pussy made the most inappropriate, squelching sounds for the occasion. 

“Think you can handle another,” he says. It’s not a question but an observation he could easily make. He adds another finger — the gesture happens smoothly, stretching you ever so carefully before his thrusts grow more forceful. 

“Don’t you care about-“ you gasp, not able to finish your sentence as overwhelming pleasure consumes you. He barely pulls his fingers out of you, relentlessly hitting them against your G-spot, not giving you a second to come up for breath.

You finish your sentence in a dazed breath. “About HR?”

“I only care about you.”

The words leave his lips so simply that it almost feels mocking of the way you struggled. 

The familiar warmth is building rapidly in your core, tingling all the way to where Aaron’s touching you. It’s laughable how, during the situation you’re in right now, he’s going to break a record in making you come. You’d expect it to be difficult to reach that point when everyone is staring at you — well, it feels like they are, even though their eyelids are covering their vision — but your body is proving that it can be a mere biological function. 

“Aaron,” you moan in a high-pitched note.

It’s only then that a flash of nerves flickers over his face, being reminded of how loud you can be.

He places an arm around your neck, locking it so that his bicep covers your mouth, glad that he’s left-handed when it comes to playing with your pussy so that he can continue his ministrations. 

The corners of Aaron’s lips twitch as you place a kiss on his bicep. He explains the purpose of his arm. “Need to bite down on me if you feel the need to scream. Okay?” 

You couldn’t give it much thought — teeth plunging into the soft but firm skin the second his fingers curl inward. The flat of his palm applies pressure to your clit with every thrust. You feel dizzy, hazy, only able to focus on the warmth that’s building inside you, desperate to reach that peak.

It isn’t long before your wish gets fulfilled. Your thighs clamped around his wrist, your body convulsing in aftershocks as your orgasm washes over you. Glad that his strong arm is there to muffle your loud cries.

After a couple of seconds — closer to an entire minute, honestly — Aaron removes his arm. Your chest is rising and falling more steadily now, but your heart is still thudding as you come down from your high. 

“Sorry,” you whisper sheepishly when you notice the bite marks you’ve left, his skin glimmering with the traces of your mouth.

What you aren’t aware of is how much it turned him on. He was overcome by this primal sense of intimacy. Claiming him by putting your mark on him for everyone to see, taking you in front of his team. It felt raw. Passionate. He needed more.

“Go to the bathroom.”

You blink up at him, your mind too foggy to make sense of his order.

“If you don’t want me to stuff your mouth with my cock in front of everyone, go to the bathroom,” he elaborates.

Ah.

You lift your hips to adjust your skirt, careful to not let the wetness that’s spilling down your legs drip onto the cushions.

You hold onto the armrest as you stand up, losing your balance due to your shaky legs and falling almost headfirst onto Spencer’s figure on the couch. “Shit.”

Two strong arms grip you by the back of your arms right in time. Aaron’s hands ghost over your stomach, keeping your back pressed tightly against his chest as you make your way to the bathroom at the end of the pathway. The outline of his cock is pushing against your lower back, reminding you of what you’ll get once you make it to the other side of the jet. 

“Get in. Quick.”

With a gentle push against your ass, Aaron moves you into the bathroom. You turn around to face him as his tall figure leans against the door. Knees hit the white floor tiles as you let your nails scratch his covered upper thighs, evading the obvious bulge. His eyes trace your face, lip locked between his teeth as he looks at you with an expectant expression. He’s not going to remind you. You know exactly what he wants.

Your hand reaches out, sliding your fingers over his length before flexing your fingers, gripping him. He shuts his eyes, head tipping back, savoring your touch, growing only harder by the prospect of what’s about to come. 

He lets out a shuddered breath as you place your soft lips over his clothed cock — not having expected that. He wishes he didn’t go to the top tailors to find his suits, regretting the fabric not being thinner as your tongue darted out, licking a firm stripe over the length.

“No time for teasing,” he warns, pushing his hips forward, pressing his hard bulge in your face. “Wrap your lips around me. There’s no lube on the jet.”

Like you need it. You’ve been wet ever since you saw that lustful look in his eyes when you sat next to him. Still, you obeyed. Careful fingers working on his belt, struggling a bit more than usual now that you feel like you need to make haste.

Relief floods over you as his belt buckle clicks open. In full excitement, you tug his pants down, underwear slipping along. You squeal when his length flicks against your nose, not able to stop the laugh that escapes you. The whole situation of being stuffed in a bathroom on a moving jet of all places makes you feel giddy.

A small smile follows after the groan Aaron lets out. He extends his hand, brushing your cheek with his knuckles. Then he slides over to your hair, holding the back of your head as he guides your mouth onto his cock.

You hum, relaxing your jaw as he fills your throat. You wrap your fist around his shaft, placing the other on his thigh for support. Just like at work, you and Aaron make a good team: he thrust his hips in a tempo that synched perfectly with the way you pumped your fist and swirled your tongue.

“Always so hungry for my cock. Aren’t you?”

You moan eagerly, giving a firm squeeze of your hand in response, making him hiss. “That’s what I thought. Such a naughty girl.”

You squeeze your thighs together. You loved giving blowjobs. Aaron always got so vocal, praising you on every lick of your tongue, every dig of your nails in the thick flesh of his thigh. You upped your speed, eyes watering as the head of his cock made contact with the back of your throat. 

“Fuck, honey,” he groans, his grip on your head tightening. 

The cramped space is filled with his heavy breathing and your little gagging noises. Your gaze remains plastered on him, taking in the way he scrunches his nose, his eyes closing in pleasure and then quickly fluttering back open to not miss the show. You know that he’s close when his thrusts grow sloppy, his breathing heaving. 

He groans, “That’s enough,”, tugging you back by your hair to release his cock from your mouth.

“That’s a shame. Wanted to feel you spill down my throat,” you pout.

He squeezes his hands into fists, physically holding himself back from coming by your words alone. “You’ll still get it. Going to fuck you first.”

You grin. “Works for me.”

He holds you by your elbows, lifting you up and enveloping you in a frenzied kiss, tasting himself on your lips. Careful to not leave any imprints on your skirt from his throbbing cock. 

“Turn around for me,” he instructs breathlessly.

Aaron switches positions with you so that you’re now face first against the bathroom door, arms placed up against the cold wood as Aaron stands behind you, his presence lingering.

A hand slips around your waist, and you can feel him leaning in. “Going to fuck this pussy so hard, you’ll struggle walking back to your seat.” He whispers against your neck, then places a wet peck on the skin, overwhelming your senses.

“God, Aaron,” you moan. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He asks, his free hand rubbing over the curve of your ass.

“Yes, please.”

“Good girl. That’s it.”

He bunches the tight fabric of your pencil skirt up to your waist, not bothering to remove your underwear as you feel the slick tip of his cock slide over your puffy lips. You claw at the wall, desperate to hold onto something as you arch your back. Please. I’m ready for you. Need you inside of me, you scream to him in your head.

His fingers dig into the skin where your hip meets your waist, placing his other arm over yours, intertwining your fingers as he pushes inside of you. 

You whine as he keeps going until the hilt, stretching you out to the fullest extent. Then he slowly pulls out of you, your eyebrows scrunching at the feeling; without warning, he slams his hips back, choking the breath out of your chest. 

“Aaron!”

He doesn’t wait on you to get used to the feel of his girth after days of not having him. He continues his movements, slow strokes of his cock pulling out and ramming back into you in a desperate need. “Push back onto me. Don’t get distracted now.”

You nod your head, using the wall as leverage as you meet his thrusts. Skin slaps against skin. The air feels clammy around you, hairs sticking to the side of your face, but no feeling is as prominent as the butterflies that are doing somersaults in your stomach. 

“Doesn’t matter how many times I take you,” Hotch groans into your ear. “You’re still so fucking tight.”

You moan in response, nodding your head. “Just for you.”

A growl escapes from deep in his throat, making the hairs on your neck stand up straight. He tugs on your hair, tilting your face to him, and crashes his mouth against yours. 

Aaron kisses you like your lips are the elixir of life. In pure desperation and desire, he clashes his teeth against yours. Moans tumble out of your mouth, but even when you don’t reciprocate his kisses, he continues. Sucking on your bottom lip as your mouth is opened in an O, licking the soft skin beside your lips, not caring as long as his mouth is on you.

He speeds his pace up. Your legs shake as you struggle to not bend your knees due to the intense pleasure. His rough hand pulls you up on his cock each time you slip away. 

“My head is pounding. I hate naps.” 

Emily’s voice muffled through the thin wall.

“Aaron, they’re awake!” You warn in panic. You had predicted to have thirty minutes to yourself, but to be honest, you got so carried away, you have no idea what time it could be. 

“Almost there, honey,” he groans back, clearly not as worried as you.

However, your desire is ebbing away as anxiety takes the lead. Aaron seems to notice and drags his hand down your stomach until his fingertips press against your aching clit. 

You moan. Loud. Way too loud. 

Aaron places his hand, which previously was intertwined with yours, to your mouth. You lean back into him. His body being the only surface to keep you in place.

You’ve lost your synchronic rhythm; he pounds into you at a speed that he knows will get him to the edge fast as he does the same for you by rubbing your swollen bud in rough circles.

There’s no way to communicate that you’re close, his palm covering your mouth very efficiently. Still, he can tell by the way your walls are swallowing his cock, tightening around him as if begging for his release.

“That’s it. Let go for me, honey; I’m right behind you.”

Your eyes flutter shut. Hands patting in the air around you until you get a hold of his arms, grabbing him tight as you let go.

Aaron gasps, feeling every vibration of your body as you come around him. “Fuck! On your knees. Fast.”

Maybe it’s the years of training in the field, but the command has you on your knees in a split second. You pull him in by his ass, lips locking onto the head of his cock. Your eyes widen as warm spurts of his release shoot down your throat, glad you took action fast before he’d come all over your clothes.

Aaron looks nothing short of ethereal. His rough demeanor now changed as a delicate peace washed over his face. Calmth radiating off of him. He needed that release, even more than you did.

When finally catching your breath, you stand up on shaky knees, Aaron holding you for support.

“Wow,” you giggle. 

He smiles, a real wide grin. “A new experience to add to your list.”

You chuckle, your voice lowering as you speak the next words. “Do you think they’ve heard?”

He shakes his head. “We’re good.”

You pull your skirt down, then look back up at him. “Do I look good?”

He takes you in with those deep, dark eyes of his. He lightly traces your face, pulling away a few loose strands of hair and wiping the side of your lip with his thumb. 

“You look perfect,” he speaks sincerely.

You bite the corner of your lip, another tingle coursing through you as if your body doesn’t still feel like it’s on fire.

“I’ll meet you out in a minute.”

He leans in, gentle lips making contact with yours for one last time. 

The last time on this flight. Because you know whatever just happened was bound to happen again.

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ HE LIKES IT WET 'N' MESSY ❞

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...synopsis : the more you think about it, the more you realize you love how messy atsumu is…

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...cw : m. atsumu x fem!reader, wet and messy, ovėrstimulation, dirty talk, marathon sėx, desperation, playful banter, unprotected sēx, excessive cūm (?), atsumu's undiscovered breēding kınk, begging, messy kissing, atsumu miya can't shut the fuck up

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...lunar's note : another revamping of an old work of mine where i just. make this even more debauched and filthier than it was before !!

if there’s one word to describe atsumu miya, it’s messy.

sometimes, he leaves his clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed, waiting until you playfully kick him in the butt to pick up his things and put them in the laundry.

he's also so messy when it comes to eating, always having food on his face, causing you to tease him as he tries to wipe it off, completely missing.

it doesn't bother you that much, having already grown used to his messy nature.

it does bother you, however, when he makes a big mess of the sheets. he's always ignoring your whines for him to get a towel to put down or else you'd make him do laundry for the rest of the week.

atsumu always gives the same damn response, a long whine of your name, telling you he’ll clean it up after.

after all, atsumu doesn't think he can bring himself to pull out of your slick heat, not when you feel this fucking good. he can't remember the last time he got to fuck you like this, messy and desperate without worrying about needing to get up early the next day to catch a bus or plane for a game.

he swears he almost forgot how warm you were, how sweet your voice sounds when you were this close to him, how pretty your face looks even when you were looking at him rather annoyed despite being fucked.

“’t-'tsumie, the towel—!”

“baby, nooooo, don’ make me pull out, don' it feel good? d'ya really want me to stop?”

fuck, you can't lie, it feels good, it feels so fucking good, the way he slows his hips to torture you with the slow drag of his cock, making you feel every inch pull out...and then slowly slide back in, a wet squelch signally his hips pressing fully against you.

but that doesn't stop you from being annoyed, knowing your fresh sheets were already a mess.

“d'awww, don’ look at me like that, sweetcheeks. tsumtsum's gonna make ya feel reaaal good if y'forget about the damn sheets,” atsumu huffs, his sweaty hands grabbing the back of your thighs and pushing them closer to your upper body.

its sinful the way he manages to slip in even deep into you, his teeth digging into his bottom lip to prevent the pitiful little whimper from leaving him.

“l-lemme make a mess, baby girl, please?”

you want to roll your eyes at his request, because it's a little too late for him to ask you that. his cum from the first round is already dripping out your stuffed cunt, leaking onto the freshly washed bed sheets under you.

it doesn't matter that his sticky cock head is messing up your insides by pressing against all the spots that have you gushing. you just put these sheets on the bed!

giving him the best pout you can manage, you huff, "f-fine—o-oh!"

that pretty little moan shouldn't cause him to react so excitedly, but he can't help it. hearing your approval has him giggling, he knew you'd give in eventually, and he's going to make sure you don't regret it.

besides, hearing you, his sweet lil' princess, try to sound all tough and serious with his cock deep inside your hot gummy walls that were sucking him in with each thrust is making him so dizzy.

you are too damn cute for your own good.

he can't hold back anymore, not when you're so cute. his hands squeeze your thighs before he starts to pound into you, savoring the way you keen for him, mouth open as you chant his name so needily.

you aren't the only one being loud, poor atsumu giving up on holding back all those pretty noises of his, the way your tight walls squeeze and massage his throbbing dick so sweetly making it literally impossible to stay quiet.

“f-fuck, 'tsumu, ‘s too deep, ’s coming out more,” you whimper, trying to lift your hips to stop his cum from leaking out of you.

the wetness of your overstimulated cunted paired with his leaking cum causes the room to be filled with loud, wet, squelching, causing you to look down.

you suck in a breath, a hot pang of pleasure shooting up your spine at the sight between your legs. atsumu’s stupidly big dick is an absolute creamy mess that only seems to get messier the more he moves, pulling and pushing the sticky mixture of your cum in and out.

“listen to that, dolly, s' fuckin’ dirty. mmnh, tight l-lil' cunt can’t hold all my cum?”

god, atsumu doesn't ever shut up, he's always such a talker, knowing how embarrassed it makes you.

“c’mon, say it, angel, say it f' me, pretty please?”

“a…atsumu, i can’t hold all of your cum…’s comin’ out, ‘tsumu, you're making me messy.”

he wasn’t expecting you to actually do it, god, he really wasn't, but you did and now his eyes are fluttering as they roll back into his skull.

don't cum, don't cum, don't cum, he chants to himself, feeling himself nearly lose it just from your words.

a choked groan forces its way out of his mouth, you're just too fucking hot for him. he can't think of anything but you, your pretty face, your soft body, and your insanely wet cunt.

“s’okay, s’okay, fuck, i’ll-i'll fuck ya, pumpkin, 't-'tsumi's gonna fuck ‘n’ fill ya up over ‘n’ over again, 'til y'can't keep it all inside, gotta stuff you with my cum, make you cream around my cock, need it, need it.”

atsumu is absolutely gone, now fully pressing into you as he fucks you into the mattress. each thrust makes you cry his name, fingers digging into his back as he puts you into a mating press, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, so ready to pump another hot load into you.

it's too much, the drag of his cock and the way it was so deep inside you. tears prick the corners of your eyes, each thrust making your brain slowly turn into nothing but mush. you hate the mess, you really do, but hearing atsumu so desperate does something for you.

you...you want it, you want him to mess you up.

your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as you moan and pant against his ear.

“a-atsumu, honey,” you coo to him, savoring the stuttering of his hips and the quiet hiss of ‘fuck’ you get out of him from the sound of your voice. “please, please fuck me more, fuck me, fill me up, stuff my pussy with your cum, h-honey, mark me nice a-an' deep, okay?”

everyone in the world knows that atsumu miya would give you the world if you asked. so you want to be filled up nice and full? then, he'll give you what you want, take such good care of you and make sure you feel him dripping out of you for days.

“yeah, yeah, fuck, good girl. take this cock, take it like a good girl, so good, my pretty girl, fuck! s-she takes this cock so well, wish you could see how good ya look stretched 'round me like this, baby, ohmyfuckin'goddd.”

you can't stop yourself, pulling him into a sloppy, desperate, the need to taste him overwhelming as your hands get tangled in his hair. he pulls away, panting into your mouth as his thrusts get harder and sloppier.

it's just a fucking mess now, your slick and cream and his cum are coating his abdomen and thighs, dripping everywhere. each thrust has you splashing on him from how fucking wet you are, and atsumu feels like he's gonna fucking faint if he tries to hold off his orgasm for much longer.

“'tsumu, 't-tsumu, 'tsumu—!"

“t-tell me ya want it, baby girl, p-please? c-c'mon, tell me y'want my fuckin' cum inside ya, n-need ta hear it,” he begs against your mouth, eyes watery as desperate tears threaten to spill.

you can't think, can't give a coherent response as you babble, the word ‘please’ falling from your lips over and over again. you just want him to stop talking and kiss you again as he pumps your needy hole full of his seed, until you can't take anymore, until it spurts out from around his cock.

but then, he stops.

a strangled sob leaves you the second his hips stop moving. it's borderline painful, you're so fucking close. just a few more thrusts and you'd be creaming all over his thick cock, tugging and pulling on his hair as your slick squirts all over him.

but no, atsumu fucking stopped.

you look at him with teary eyes, silently begging him to explain. this is just unfair to both of you! but atsumu only gives you a cocky grin, and you have to stop yourself from flicking his nose.

he grants you some relief, rolling his hips gently as his hand slides up to cup the back of your head as he pepper your sweaty cheek in open mouthed kisses. he's so annoying, you love him so bad.

“dunno, pumpkin, don' think ya begged enough f'me. hmm...i’ll give ya one more shot, baby…tell me how fucking much ya want my fuckin’ cum in yer pretty cunt and make ya a creamy lil' mess."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[linoxpudding]

Fading Love (Pt 1)- Lee Know

summary: as your marriage begins to crumble, you hold onto hope that a newfound joy might bring you both closer again

pairing: lee know x fem!reader

genre: angst, married couple

word count: 645 words

warnings: mentions of broken marriage, pregnancy, nausea

a/n: got sudden inspiration of this idea, so jotted it down quickly 🫣

SERIES: PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR

Masterlist

~°~

You felt the shift almost two months ago.

At first, it was subtle, Minho stopped initiating kisses. When you leaned in, he only gave you a peck, never deepening it, never pulling you closer like he used to. The teasing remarks that once made you laugh were completely gone. Now, your conversations were short, filled with empty pleasantries instead of warmth.

And then he started ignoring you.

Coming home late without explanation, scrolling through his phone when you spoke, walking past you without sparing a second glance. The man who once couldn’t keep his hands off you now felt like a stranger in your own home.

You tried to brush it off, telling yourself that marriage had its ups and downs.

Then your nausea started. The fatigue. The overwhelming exhaustion that settled deep in your bones. You thought it was stress. You thought maybe the weight of your crumbling marriage was making you sick.

But today, as you sat in the clinic, fingers gripping the fabric of your dress, the doctor’s words shattered every assumption.

"You're pregnant! Three months along. Congratulations."

Three months.

Your mind raced, piecing together the timeline. Three months ago.... the realization struck like lightning— that weekend. The one moment where things felt right. You and Minho had gone on a mini vacation, escaping the chaos of daily life. You remembered the way he held you that night, his lips brushing against your skin as if you were his whole world. That night, your child was conceived. 

It felt like a lifetime ago.

Now, here you were, clutching a sonogram with trembling fingers, trying to process how quickly things had changed.

Still, hope bloomed in your chest. Maybe this baby was the miracle you both needed. Maybe this would bring you close again, remind him of the love that once burned so fiercely between you.

So you poured your heart into tonight.

A candlelit dinner, his favorite dishes, soft music playing in the background. You set the sonogram neatly in a small envelope on the table, waiting for the perfect moment to share the news.

You wanted to believe that tonight would mark the beginning of something new.

Then he walked in.

He didn’t even glance at the table. His face was unreadable, his hands clenched into fists as he stood at the doorway. Something about his stance sent an icy dread crawling up your spine.

“Minho?” you called softly, forcing a smile. “You’re home.”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “We need to talk.”

The words alone made your blood run cold.

“I want a divorce.”

For a second, you thought you misheard him.

Your lips parted, your breath catching in your throat. “W-What?”

Minho shut his eyes for a moment, as if saying it aloud hurt him just as much as it hurt you. When he opened them, there was a flicker of something broken in his gaze.

“I… I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered. “We keep trying, but it’s not working. We’re hurting each other just by staying.”

Your breath hitched, your fingers trembling at your sides.

No. No, this wasn’t happening.

You wanted to speak, to beg him to stay, to tell him about the baby, but your voice wouldn’t come out.

Minho swallowed hard, stepping back. “I-I’ll stay at a hotel tonight. We can… talk later.”

And just like that—before you could say a single word—he turned and walked away.

The door closed behind him. The room fell into silence.

The weight of everything came crashing down all at once. Tears welled up your eyes as you looked at the dining table where the envelope sat. Your knees gave out, and you collapsed onto the floor, arms wrapping protectively around your stomach.

Soft, shattered sobs escaped your lips as you cradled the life growing inside you— the life Minho didn’t even know existed.

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

Taglist:

@kaiyaba @lov3rachan @pixie-felix @ellemir2404 @willowhanji @skzimagines @wavetohannie @jamroses @vietjeb @kayleefriedchicken @kokinu09 @nightmarenyxx @my-neurodivergent-world @shuuporanglinos

[riaaaxoxo]

cw ~ minor nagireo, unprotected sex, cucking, spit, size kink, squirting

nagi seishiro isn’t one for leftovers or sharing a girl with his best friend, but when reo offers up his wife on a silver platter, he isn’t one to say no.

“go ahead, she’s all your’s.” reo muttered, seating himself in a chair just by the bed. any deal made with reo never came without strings attached, nagi knew that best of all. but who knew reo mikage got off on being a cuck?

nagi approached the king-sized mattress that presented you— spread out over the bed and nude, with a heavy breath. it’s honestly been a while since he’d last slept with a woman, and it felt as if he’d forgotten everything but which hole to put his dick.

he unzipped his jeans and pulled his boxers down just enough to spring out the heavy girth that was hidden in them. “ahah.. holy shit.. um— a..are you sure you’re gonna fit?” you laughed nervously, your heart beating anxiously in your chest.

“hm? whaddya mean?” nagi hummed, rubbing his tip up to your clit and down to the end of your cunt. “hmmgh.. i—i just mean that… you’re really big, nagi..” you replied breathily, trying to move your hips against his dick.

“oh.” nagi said— pausing for a second before he continued to gather your slick. “don’t worry. it’ll fit.” he simply replied, inserting his tip in experimentally before pulling it out again to keep up his tease.

your fingers gripped the silk sheets from his tip suddenly pushing in. it felt as if the force of gravity had suddenly pushed you down from the very weight of his dick.

reo sat silently in the corner, as if he wasn’t even there. he watched as his best friend teased his wife, ignoring the achingly painful bulge of his own cock.

“hey, nagi.” reo said, “that’s enough teasing. my girl’s wet enough, put it in already.” he commanded. nagi turned back to face reo, his expression was playful as he grinned, but his eyes were observant, watching his every move. nagi’s face was blank, as if he had been completely unaffected from this. even if all the blood that was rushing south said otherwise.

he nodded compliantly, “you got it, boss.” he murmured, turning back to watch as his annoyingly thick girth made its shape in you.

you yelped in pain, hands moving onto nagi’s abs and clawing your nails into his pecs. nagi groaned at your tightness; it felt as if you would tear his dick off if he wasn’t careful enough.

“hey, calm it down…” he muttered through his teeth, his middle and index fingers playing with your folds before clumsily finding your clit in the hopes that you’d loosen up.

you whimpered, reflexively spreading your legs further to make way for nagi’s size. “that’s it.. good job.” he sighed, finally relishing in the tightness. he moved both hands back to your hips and pressed his pelvis against your clit— as if he was trying to fit more of himself into you, all while he waited for you to finally adjust.

you writhed under nagi, feeling as if you were being stuffed to the brim; nothing in the world mattered anymore, not when heaven was already in this room.

your hips circled around nagi, and he took it as a sign that you were ready. he started off slowly, with deep thrusts that kissed your cervix, grinding against you before pulling back and forth once more.

nagi groaned, his eyes were locked in on the way your pussy sucked him in. the sinful squelch every time he pushed in, and the way your tiny cunt stretched around the thick base, and locked around his pink tip, only allowing him to pull out till that point. he was completely enamored with all of it, almost entirely ignoring your loud moans and whimpers.

without even realizing it, he had started railing you— hard. his hands pulled you up and lifted your hips to meet his dick, he was moving you body back and forth as he impaled your tiny hole. the silk sheets that had been pressed and ironed by the maids were completely ruined and crinkled as your body moved along them.

nagi collected a glob of spit and let it drop from his lips to where your bodies were attached. he watched as his spit frothed in bubbles around his dick, making his thrusts smoother.

“nagi! hmffgh!” you cried out, legs waving helplessly in the air as nagi used you like a sex doll. “‘m gonna— nngh.. g..gonna cum! hnf!!” you whimpered, trying to find a way to ground yourself to earth. when suddenly, your hand was taken by reo, who you hadn’t noticed found his way to the bed in the midst of your pleasure.

“yeah? mmgh..” nagi hummed, “go on.. jus’ keep bein’ good ‘nd take it..” he rasped, his throat dry from how silent he’d been.

“hold on.” reo said, laying a palm to your abdomen. he pressed down every time nagi thrusted in, pushing against the bulge on your tummy. “alright, go ahead, honey.”

you squirmed under them, damned be reo and his knowledge of your body all to hell! each thrust just felt more and more intense with how you could feel every edge and vein on nagi’s cock.

and by reo and nagi’s command, you gushed all over him, squirting your essence all over the silk sheets, as well as nagi’s abdomen and the inside of your thighs.

nagi moaned, your insides being stained in white as they tried to force nagi out. his thighs shook, knees buckling under him as he tried to stay sane. but he couldn’t as endless spurts of cum filled your womb, pressing his hips in further, and ensuring that his cum seeps into every bit of your guts that needs filling.

his eyes met reo’s; his eyes were sharp, as if he was telling nagi his time was up. “that was good, nagi. i should show you though just how dirty she can be. you would not believe the orgasms i’ve gotten out of this pretty thing..” reo laughed. nagi reluctantly pulled out— his dick soaked and still semi-hard, and sat down beside your fucked out body, trying to catch his breath.

reo made quick work of his pants and pulled out his erection in almost zero seconds flat. he made his way between your legs and hovered over you to whisper in your ear, “whaddya think, honey? can you take one more ‘nd give nagi a show?” he hummed, offering it up to you as if you had a choice.

but then again, you couldn’t really bring yourself to say no anyways. not when reo was the one who was asking.

[wandanatsgf]

Inappropriate Feelings Part 2

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Wanda and Natasha learn that before you got together you had heard them having sex. They proceed to tease you about it before they reenact what you heard, this time with you included

Warning this contains: strap on use, teasing, mommy kink, daddy kink, praise kink, oral sex, degradation, spanking, orgasm control, Wanda is a switch, Natasha is a dom, Reader is a sub

Authors Note: this can be read as a standalone. this is just scraped content from Inappropriate Feeling that I wrote but ultimately cut because I felt like it didn’t work in the story. I had so much cut material I figured I might as well rework it into a second part!

Part 1

"How'd you even know about my daddy kink detka?" Natasha asks one night, referencing the first time the three of you slept together. The three of you are lying in bed after a long night of fucking, everyone’s body completely spent.

Everyone is covered in a thin layer of sweat, skin sticky but none of you care. You’re lying on your side on Natasha’s chest, her hand playing with your hair. Wanda is on the other side of you, holding you from behind.

The question had been on her mind for a while. Were you just that in tune to the two of them that you knew what she liked? Did Wanda tell you telepathically? Natasha is truly curious.

It takes you a second to realize what Natasha just asked you. Your face instantly flushes.

"I might have heard you and Wanda going at it before," you say, burying your face in the crook of Natasha's neck, a blush covering your face.

"Dirty girl," Natasha teases.

"I can't help it, you two were loud," you try to explain, your blush an even deeper shade. But Wanda, ever the mind reader, can see your thoughts. See how you had touched yourself to the thought of them. See how you felt guilty afterwards, and she wants to change that. She projects her thoughts to Natasha, who nods in agreement.

"Aww its okay baby. You just wanted to be a little perv and hear us huh?” It’s Wanda who speaks that time, joining in on the teasing. She pulls your head out of Natasha’s neck and forces you to look at her. She readjusts you so that you’re facing her now, laying on your side.

“You wanna tell us what else you heard?” Wanda’s right hand brushes down your side. Your breath hitches as she gets close to where you want her before she pulls her hand back.

“Wanda,” you whine.

“That’s not my name baby,” she says correcting you.

“Mommy.”

“Good girl,” she praises. Her words go to your core, reigniting your need.

“You gonna answer mommy’s question? What else did you hear?” It’s Natasha who speaks this time. She’s behind you, hand around your throat.

“I heard daddy fucking mommy,” you manage to say in your lustful state.

“Yeah? Did you like it baby?”

“Yea Daddy I loved it,” you admit which is the truth. After you had accidentally heard them you had to go take a cold shower. And then when that didn’t work you touched yourself to the thought of them. Sure you had felt gross about it afterwards, but it felt good in the moment.

Wanda’s hand moves towards your core, hands slowly moving down your body while Natasha talks.

“You wanna see it this time, not just hear it?”

“Please,” you beg.

“She means it Natty. She’s soaking wet,” Wanda says, swiping two fingers through your folds and then bringing them up to Natasha’s face, who licks them clean, savoring your taste.

“Lay back on the bed by the headboard detka,” Natasha says. You reposition yourself while Natasha walks to the closet. Wanda positions herself so she’s in between your legs, face down and ass up.

She’s so close you can feel her breath against your bare heat. You try to move closer to her, but she takes both hands and holds you down.

“No baby. Not yet,” she reprimands.

“Mommy,” you whine out, which leads to Wanda pinching your thigh in warning. You don’t push your luck anymore, you just sit there and wait for Nat.

Natasha walks back out, a pitch black strap on attached to her hips.

“You wanna show our pretty girl how much of a slut you are for me?” Natasha asks Wanda. Nat’s shocks you, you’ve never seen Wanda bottom before, but it turns you on all the same.

“Yes daddy,” Wanda says. She wiggles her hips, wanting Natasha closer. Natasha responds with a slap on Wanda’s butt cheek.

“Stay still and eat our pretty girl out,” Natasha commands. Wanda obeys and dives into your pussy making you squeal. Your hand wraps itself into her hair, pulling her closer.

“Mommy,” you moan out. Your legs clamp around Wanda’s head, smushing her between your thighs.

While Wanda devours you, her lips suctioning around your clit, Natasha leans down, standing behind Wanda. She runs a finger through the younger woman’s wet pussy.

“Fuck you’re soaked,” Natasha murmurs. She lines her strap up with Wanda’s entrance and pushes in. As she pushes in a wet squelching sound fills the room. Wanda moans into your pussy, sending vibrations through you.

“Please,” you beg. Your head tilts back and your eyes shut, you’re so close. You just need a couple more licks and you’d fall over the edge.

“You don’t get to cum yet baby. You wanted to watch daddy fuck mommy so watch us,” Natasha commands. Wanda pulls her head back from your core, letting you calm down.

“Fuck daddy,” Wanda yells out when Natasha hits that spot inside of her.

“You like that my little slut?” Natasha asks, relentlessly pounding into Wanda. You had never seen Wanda be this submissive before, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

Wanda moves her head back to your pussy, tongue running and teasing through your folds. But your eyes stay glued to the scene in front of you. Natasha thrusting into Wanda, Wanda moaning into your pussy with every thrust.

You can tell she’s close, and you are too.

Your thighs clench around Wanda’s head while Wanda’s pussy clenches around Nat’s strap.

“Cum for me darlings. Soak my strap like a good little slut. Cum all over mommy’s face,” she says. Wanda cums immediately, body shaking and toes curling. Her moans vibrating though you send you into an orgasm, your body thrashing as the pleasure courses through you.

Once Wanda settles down Natasha slides out and takes the strap off, throwing it off to the side to be cleaned latter.

She goes to the bathroom while Wanda gets up and adjusts the two of you so that you are holding each other. Your heads are lying against the pillows while you wait for Tasha.

The two of you make small talk while waiting, whispering sweet nothings to each other.

“Spread your legs darlings,” Nat says when she walks back in, cloth and water in hands. Both of you spread your legs and Natasha cleans you up. She’s gentle, wiping up any sticky mess. She throws the cloths into the hamper and then hands the two of you water, which you both take big gulps of.

“Good girls,” Natasha praises. She sits down in between the two of you, holding you both with one arm.

The three of you lay in each others arms, content to hold each other when you have a thought.

“You two knew I was there that day, didn’t you?” The realization strikes you suddenly. No one has ever heard the three of you before and you had never heard them after that day. They had to have done it on purpose you realize.

“Of course we knew baby. Why do you think we were so loud?” It’s Natasha who speaks, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“I hate you two,” turning your face away from Nat to burrow your face into your pillow.

“No you don’t, you love us,” Wanda says, leaning over Nat to leave a kiss on your exposed cheek.

“That I do.” Your voice comes out weirdly, your face smushed against the pillow.

“We love you too,” they both say at the same time. Your heart fills with affection for the two women. It’s not the first time they have said those words to you. But each time they say it, it fills with you with a soft, fuzzy feeling.

The three of you hold each other, spending hours talking until the three of you fall asleep in each others arms.

[01zfan]

slope

model!anton x camgirl!reader | 8.9k words

contains: minji from njz is mentioned, reader is a camgirl, hookups and previous fwb relationship mentioned, protected sex, recorded sex, sex at the workplace mentioned

Neither of your jobs were fun. There was never any control in the amount of people that came in, no way of knowing when it’d be busy. There were Friday afternoons where there’s no business and Monday mornings when everyone was packed shoulder to shoulder. There were countless shoplifters that could never be picked up by the cameras due to the crowd and their ability to blend in and disappear. 

There was always something wrong with the building itself. The sterile white interior was to hide that last week they found a rat in the food court, and the month before that there was kid missing for the better half of an afternoon. There were several buckets around the mall, picking up water from leaks and wet floor signs that were perpetually propped up. 

Behind your register you spent all day handing gift receipts to customers. Over the years faces started to blend together and at this point in the day, someone only stuck out if they made a particularly terrible impression. If they asked about stock you didn’t have or if they needlessly gave you attitude they’d be on your mind for the rest of the day. At home doing dishes and randomly thinking about the tone of a strangers voice and getting so mad you have to leave to clear your head.

Your coffee always ended up becoming lukewarm because you constantly ended up working by yourself. You never had time to enjoy your coffee at the right temperature, and the corporate curated playlist became the worst type of white noise. Your customer service voice was wearing off, and standing behind the register with nowhere else to go was making you restless. Your knees nearly buckled during your last transaction, and you leaned all your weight against the table that the point of sale system rested on.

When the last customer left the store and people were browsing you finally had a moment to yourself. You had your wasted drink and your phone, tucked away beside the register in the place your manager chided you for. But she wasn’t here—she was never here—and the one thing that freed you from your customer service purgatory was stealing quick glances at your phone. Tiny moments of looking mindlessly at your notifications was what got you through the work day, and the act of defiance made you feel like you were in charge somehow. 

You steal one glance towards the swinging door leading to the back of house. Your shift lead and coworker were back there, one on their break and the other pretending like they were doing work. When you realized neither of them were coming out even if you were screaming for help you pull your phone from its hiding spot beside the register. You prop up your elbows and rest your head in your hands, trying to hide that you’re looking at your phone and not bending down to stretch your body. You reason that it’s only fair you look at your phone, that’s probably what the two of them were doing in the back anyways. No one was in line to buy something and this was the fourth Shawn Mendes song you’ve heard in the last hour. You deserved to scroll around on your apps for a moment.

The time was what caught your attention first. That rush made the worst half of your work day disappear, and your coworker was due to come back on the floor any minute. You had a text from your annoying roommate about something annoying you were going to ignore until you couldn’t anymore. A notification of a TikTok being sent to you, something about threads on Instagram. You kept scrolling, waiting for something else. 

For the past month that’s all that it felt like you were doing. Each time you looked at your phone you were waiting for a text message or a call. You wanted it to be from Anton, who used to work at the clothing store across from where you work. Your arrangement for your breaks was still so engraved in the back of your mind it had become a habit. 

While you stare at your old text conversations with him, you see the swinging door open. You shove your phone into the cubby hole the same time Minji comes out. You relax seeing her, the one person who cares less about this job than you do. There’s no reason to play into the employee-of-the-month persona when it’s just Minji. She’s still finishing the food she got on her break and adjusting her uniform while she comes to you.

You didn’t even know what was happening in the store as Minji stood beside the register. You just looked at her, doing a quick scan of the store before reaching over you to grab her watered down drink. She took one last sip of mainly ice and water before tossing it in the garbage.

“You can go on your break.” Minji says.

You pull your phone from its hiding spot just for Minji to put her phone in the exact same place. She swallows the last of her food just in time for two people to wander. Minji greets them, a superficial hello as you grab the rest of your things behind the register.

Wordlessly you traded off with her, signing out from the system so she could sign in. You slide past Minji and she goes to your spot, standing on the anti-fatigue mat your manager got in response to you two begging for a chair.

After that you moved the fastest you had all day to make it to the back of house. Exactly what you expected was waiting for you behind the swinging door. Your shift supervisor was on her phone, looking at you from the side before going back to the loud video playing on her phone. 

“Going on your break?” She asked.

There was a time when your shift supervisor was the hardest worker in the store. One step below the manager with none of the benefits, but she used to run the store diligently. Now she seemed to always be in the back on her phone, pretending to type something pertaining to business or ordering something else. Now she watches loud videos and was anal about time management, despite spending the majority of her day not helping on the floor.

But you’re not supposed to be focused on work. For the next thirty minutes you are free, nothing is tying you to work. You are trying to be in and out of the store fast, but your supervisor insists on having a conversation. When she pulls away from her phone completely you have to hold back a sigh, knowing you’re about to get a lecture on something unimportant. You were still pissed from when she took a customer’s side over yours last week, giving her a discount on her purchase even though she was in the wrong and rude. You wondered if she even remembered how the customer talked to you when she checked her watch quickly.

“Make sure you’re actually back in thirty minutes.” She says.

“Alright.” You say.

You don’t look at her anymore after you throw your jacket over your shoulder. From your bag you stuff your keys and wallet into your pockets, and you’re done. Your shift supervisor gets to sit in the back on her ass and get paid for it, but you can’t have a grace period with coming back from your break? 

This is the exact reason why you and Minji abuse the fact that no one else wants to work here. You both get to be the worst employees in your own ways. She gives attitude back to the customers and is late almost everyday. You take extra long breaks and have a problem getting off your phone. What matters is that you two are here for every shift, even if you don’t want to be, and you two have been here for a long time. Like this place is purgatory or something worse you can’t escape. So you say okay to your supervisor telling you to come back on time, even when you both know you’re not going to. At the very most she’ll chide you and say something slick about being here on time, and Minji will say something under her breath about being grateful you two are here at all.

“Enjoy your break.” Your shift supervisor says.

“Thanks.” 

You push the swinging door a little harder and clear out of the store a little faster. You don’t even look over your shoulder to tell Minji goodbye, and you don’t think twice about another unpredictable rush of people coming into the store. Minji is too focused on helping three customers at once to tease you about coming back on time. The best time to leave was when it was the busiest. If you were lucky by the time you came back the crowd would thin out. 

You slip out of the chaos, enjoying the peace you’re going to have for the next twenty-nine minutes. You’re able to block out the grating music and Minji yelling for the next person to come to the register.

If this was a month ago, Anton would’ve been in the food court. He would’ve been sitting at the table right next to the yellow wet floor sign to sit at a table facing your storefront. He would’ve had his messenger bag slung over one shoulder and resting in his lap, eating whatever he munched on from the food court while he waited for you. You left your work in such a rush like he would still be there, looking at his phone but paying attention to who was coming in and out. You looked to the left to see the store Anton used to work at, the constant food traffic was something he hated. People going in meant they were messing with the clothes in the display, unfolding them and leaving it for Anton and his coworkers to fix.

When you found yourself stuck too much in the routine of seeing Anton you look up. On the second floor the images of his face and body sporting a luxury brand knocks you out of whatever trance you end up in. Anton from the past would see you before you saw him, pushing his white chair out from under the table until it grated against the linoleum floor. You can still see him accidentally knocking over his plastic cup from Auntie Anne’s in his haste to follow you. Anton from the past would’ve cut through the endless chatter and walked against the foot traffic of everyone else to keep in time with you. But the Anton now models for Gucci and Louis Vuitton, and his pictures are hanging up on the second floor to advertise the brand.

Still though, you can’t help but think about him. You would always look past Anton fixing his jacket and slinging his messenger bag just to fix it again. You liked looking from side to side in fake contemplation, like you both didn’t know where you were heading to. 

Even if Anton isn’t here, you still do some of the same things. You turn on your heel the same way and head towards the exit against the foot traffic of everyone else. You look over your shoulder like he would be there, bobbing and weaving through the crowd to catch up to you. Sometimes you kept a distance other times you two would walk at the same pace, matching strides and everything. Without him there beside you, you imagined him still in the crowd, apologizing to everyone he was bumping into. You could see him vividly mouthing excuse me and sorry while you passed through without saying a word. He’d be moving sideways, trying to be as nimble as you were on your feet. He was too nice. If someone bumped into you, that was their fault. You were on your thirty minute break, everyone else was in your way. 

The crowd didn’t thin out until you made it out of the food court. By the time you made it to the kids play area it was sparse. just the few people coming in from the parking lot or leaving the mall entirely. All the children that were ditched at the indoor playground stared at you walking in such a rush. Their mothers were busy shopping and the toys stopped being entertaining a long time ago, you didn’t blame them. But you kept the same pace when you normally would’ve slowed down for Anton to catch up, trying to make it to your car to maximize on your free time.

You looked up to the upper floors of the mall, the elusive place that had better hours and better pay than the stores on the ground floor. Up there they got hour breaks and a bigger staff discount. They also dealt with a different and more refined clientele, while you and your coworkers dealt with prepubescent shoplifters and adults who acted like children. 

You looked even further up, until you made it to the glass ceiling where all the natural light came through. Moving up on the corporate ladder here meant being transferred to the higher end stores. But work doesn’t matter right now, you’re on your break.

You refused to slow down when you realized time was still ticking away. At this point, Anton would’ve started working up to a slow jog to close some of the distance. Another look over your shoulder and you would’ve seen he was closer, a hand over the strap of his bag and his other hand in his pocket. You zipped up your jacket. You could already feel the chill from the constant opening doors. 

When you made it to your car, you were still thinking about him. You had to stop yourself from crawling in the backseat from muscle memory, and you spent your time in the drivers seat thinking about him. You had a secluded place in the back of the employee parking lot because of him. Your supervisor asked about why you were parked in the back corner of the parking lot all the time. You couldn’t tell her that you were too busy fucking the boy from a few stores down everyday on your breaks so you lied. You didn’t know that saying you had a tendency to bump into other cars would lead to you being quarantined in the back corner. The word spread fast, because even after Anton left and you tried rejoining your coworkers cluster of cars they started avoiding your vehicle like the plagued. So you stayed in the corner and you continued to think about Anton and what you two would do around this time of day. 

Since Anton left there wasn’t anything that gave you that rush anymore. Knowing Anton was a couple strides behind you and he was closing in made it feel like you were young, no other worries beyond getting to your car as fast as possible. Getting closer and closer to your vacant car with the close-to-illegal tint blacking out all of your windows. That moment when it would just be you and him in the parking lot. Hearing his feet drag across the gravel in contrast to your light and quick steps. Not looking over your shoulder that one last time but knowing he was practically right there. Looking at his reflection in the window before you unlocked the back door. Crawling inside and closing the door behind you but leaving it unlocked just for him. That moment when you could see him but he couldn’t see you was always the best. 

heyyyy 

is your number still the same?

Everything else happened pretty quickly. Anton replied within the day and told you that he never left the city, he only traveled to each job. 

But there was no way you could tell Anton the truth initially. Despite your previous arrangement, talking about what you did as a side hustle now felt too vulgar, especially because you were convinced he no longer wanted to be associated with the life he lived working on the ground floor of the mall. But something about Anton was so inviting, you couldn’t stop yourself from telling him that you did streams on the side to try and make extra income. 

Anton surprised you after you told him. He asked if you needed help. Like you were coming to your workplace hookup and part time friend for help on your camgirl side quests. But Anton campaigned to help you, he was adamant that being a model made him a professional in terms of posing and lighting. Within the week you were sneaking Anton past your annoying roommate into your bedroom to help you take pictures and videos for your new Twitter account. 

He was great help. The money started coming in, you gained followers faster than you ever had. You were getting the money finally, and you just needed a little bit more money to finally get a place of your own. The thought of a collaboration came to mind, and when you brought the idea up to Anton he campaigned for himself again, instead of a popular creator you were mutuals with. 

You came around to the proposal quickly. The thought of working with someone you didn’t know already seemed crazy, but with Anton you could do it in the safety of your own apartment. So when he offered you agreed, and then you set time off for the weekend to film and asked your roommate politely if she could make herself scarce for a couple days. 

“What if we went somewhere else to film?” Anton asked the question while you were putting back on your clothes after another photoshoot. He stood with his back facing you as if he wasn’t taking pictures of your naked body minutes prior. “Just to be extra safe? I think your viewers would like that too.” He added.

You told Anton he made a good point and that night he texted you to pack your bags for the cold and he picked you up directly from work at the end of the week. 

The whole ride upstate Anton was adamant about going to a different location. He took his role as your director very seriously. A new location would interest your viewers, everything about it would bring people back. You two decided that a video would give you more money than a stream, and the longevity offered on posting to the platform was unbeatable. 

When you and Anton arrived at the ski lodge you tried your best to not be amazed. You stopped mid-conversation to look at the cabin through the dashboard in amazement. Anton was still staring at you for a moment, and then he followed yours through the falling snow. The cabin was beautiful and laid out in a long line of the other cabins down the road.

“How much was all of this?” You ask when he puts the car in park in the shoveled driveway. 

The thought of a private cabin in the snow and the cost was already piling on your never ending list of expenses. But Anton shook his head, even when he grabbed your bags from the backseat and let you lead the way to the cabin.

“The model money pays well.” Anton laughs to himself. You walk up the steps to the cabin and open the lockbox. “I came here for a photoshoot and they gave me a discount and everything.” He continues

When you open up the door your surprised again. You know that this is a resort, that it’s supposed to be a home away from home. But even with Anton turning on the light and coming in behind you to drop the bags by the door it’s peaceful. No loud roommate, no expenses, no work. There’s a peaceful stillness, even if you’re here under debauched pretenses. 

“I think.” You point towards the common area with the long gray couch and the television hidden away in the entertainment center. “I think here would be a good place for it.” You motion vaguely to the area in front of the head of the couch. Anton walks beside you  “We could set the tripod up there, ya know?” 

When you look to Anton he’s nodding his head, but then he points upstairs.

“We should look at the other rooms too.” With his messenger bag over his shoulder and your backpack on his back he starts walking towards the stairs. You take off your shoes and follow after him. ”Just in case.”

Up the stairs you see the other rooms. To the left from the landing there’s one bedroom, then right next to it is the other. Anton follows you into each one, letting you turn on the lights and walk around in each room. When you turn back you see him waiting in the doorway. He’s already seen the entire cabin, he lets you choose the bigger room and brings your things up before he even thinks about grabbing his own things. 

“Still prefer the couch I think.” Anton nods but still waits in the doorframe. He follows you like a shadow down the stairs, only creating distance when you sit down on the couch. His hesitation makes you pause. Your laptop is in front of you and so is the camera, and the tripod is already set up in front of you. “Once I’m done with everything up we can get started.” You say.

Anton is still off to the side from the couch, staring at you working. It feels like you’re at the mall again, instead of the food court it’s the wooden floors of the kitchen and your workplace is the living room.

You think about pressing further to see if Anton has gotten cold feet. Worse case scenario you can just have him film you, he’s done it before and you brought toys just in case. You shift on the couch and Anton finally comes closer. He sits on the furthest cushion of the couch and you prepare to hear the worst. Anton draws in a deep breath, and you push your laptop away.

“You’re not tired from the drive or anything?” Anton raises his shoulders and then motions outwards, like he’s trying to show you to let go of the burden. “Should we talk a little bit? Maybe get something to eat so we can clear our heads?”

You have to smile at Anton’s avoidance to look at you. The very first time you two met he was anything but assertive. Avoiding eye contact, delivering something for his manager and ending in a laugh when he realized how quiet he was being. He is better at holding eye contact now, but he still has to avert his eyes when he mentions why you two are here.

“Tryna take me out before we fuck, Anton?” You smile and Anton laughs too, breathy and exasperated before he smiles back. You motion towards your ready equipment. “My head is clear.”

The way Anton’s hands grip his thighs tells you he knows you’re lying. But you two haven’t caught up in forever, and you know he doesn’t want to be presumptuous. You cut him some slack, taking a deep breath of your own and crossing your legs on top of the bed.

“We should probably set some ground rules beforehand, though.”

Anton sits up on the couch and nods.

“I’m going to blur out our faces once we are done filming and we shouldn’t say eachother’s names.”

“What about pet names?”

Flashbacks to the sweaty backseat of your car and Anton moaning that you’re his baby into your ear makes you nod your head. It also makes you avoid eye contact, clearing your throat as you try to remember the other rules you wanted to set.

“I’ll ask before I do anything.” Anton looks from his lap to your face. He’s sincere, lips pulled to a tight line as he nods his head. “It’s your video and you’re in charge.” He says.

You knew Anton was different. When you became a camgirl you were exposed to an entirely different type of men. You saw the things they would say in your streams and on your posts, dirty things that had you wondering what they looked like on the other side of the screen. If you dressed pretty for a video they’d only tell you that it was nice like they knew it’d be coming off later. A setup for a terrible joke that you’d have to fake laugh at. He’s been eying you since he picked you up from work; not like he was tearing you apart but like he was trying to figure you out. No one has tried to figure you out since you started chose your profession. 

You would’ve never guessed that Anton was so adamant about having you. Not in the way the other men wanted—he didn’t take you out to a disgusting bar hoping to score by paying the drink tab—but he brought you to a fancy cabin in the snowy hills and offered to take you to a fancy restaurant down the road that you’ve never been to before. He was treating this like a couple vacation. That seemed to be the way Anton wanted to have you. His pseudo-girlfriend, sitting across from him on a couch while you set up your camcorder to film you two having sex.

“Is your manager still an asshole?” He asked.

“Yeah. All she does is play on her phone in the back of house.” You answer.

What you really want to ask is why he hasn’t fucked you yet. 

Like the worlds longest game of chicken, Anton has not made a single move on you. You two crossed over that line a long time ago, sometime between you pulling him on top of you during your lunch breaks. You two already talked about how awful your current managers and his former coworkers were, and he knew exactly how you liked to be touched. There was no reason to play this game, it could even be argued that this was all one big distraction from the task at hand.  

You weren’t ashamed to admit that at this point in your life you had been around. Even if you were faceless in your videos and your streams that still counted as something. You were sure that Anton needed someone to match his outward demeanor. A shy, sweet girl, maybe he could find a model during one of his gigs. But he seemed persistent about you and getting to know you all over again. His doting wouldn’t stop you from making money, you knew he knew that. Sometimes it seemed like he enjoyed your resistance to his courting, that his shy chivalry didn’t have an affect on you. 

Sitting across from him on the couch you still believed it. You were waiting for the moment Anton would start showing his true colors, being a little more like the other people you entertained. You wanted to call him a lover boy and pull at his beanie like you did when you both worked at the mall. You also wanted to tell him that he was doing way too much for you, that being here as his human dildo and photographer was more than enough. You still didn’t know how to possibly thank him for getting this secluded cabin away from your annoying roommate without even having to ask him. 

No one tells you how cool girls who stream have to be. Men could be in this line of profession and do whatever they want. They can have no tact and still get laid just as easy. When you’re a girl who does what you do, you have to be indifferent. You have to treat everything like it doesn’t matter and you care less than you do. But you also have to be an angel, permanently with your customer service voice when you stream or interact with people over Twitter. You have to deny the sweet boys advances and lament that you’re too cool for them, even if you know nothing about them. 

You also have to pretend like you don’t care that Anton hasn’t touched you since he started helping you with your side hustle. You have to pretend like you’re not so depraved by the thought of him and him alone that you start equating everything he does for you to sex. When he picked you up from work today that was sex. Him opening the car door for you and carrying your bags was also sex, and the way he let you take the biggest room was sex too. You had become so desperate in such a short amount of time that you had set up a system, all while dropping subtle hints you were too busy for a relationship.

You considered for awhile that Anton was seeing other people too. He definitely had to have a roster of his own, pretty models who liked his soft voice and gentle demeanor. You told yourself he was in a long term relationship that you didn’t know about and he was just looking to you for some fun, or helping out a friend. You also considered that he got his first model paycheck and needed a pretty thing to throw his extra money at. 

You never asked Anton anything to confirm or deny your suspicions. You were too busy trying to ignore the fact that he hadn’t even touched you before you were searching up his ad campaigns in your free time. No one warns you about how cool you have to be. Treating everyone like another body is all fun and games until the body is young and interesting and kind and funny and hot and familiar and—

“I’m glad we’re here together.” Anton said.

“Me too.”

He closes a little bit of the distance on the couch, coming closer until only a cushion separates the two of you. You think to yourself again why he hasn’t fucked you yet. You would’ve settled for a quickie in the bathroom, or in the parking lot when he picked you up for old time’s sake. You would’ve settled for something as juvenile as grinding and heavy petting, anything would’ve mulled you over. You just needed your fun, that’s what you were looking for and what you were being deprived of because he was too busy treating you like his girlfriend.

Seeing how nonchalant Anton had suddenly become made you even more pent up. Was there something you didn’t know about him, was there something he was hiding? The more you thought about him, the more you realized you knew nothing about him. Just that he used to work a few stores down from you, and he modeled now and you were both pulled from your schedules to be here today. 

Everything he did made you cling to his every move. When he moved even closer to you the camcorder was on the tripod now, and you shut your laptop and put it on the ground to move it out of the way.  

The two of you are just sitting in silence, side by side. Even though neither of you have a time constraint, it feels like you’re running out of time. You should be pulling him on top of you, the longer you took the more footage you’d have to edit out.

“Are you usually like this?” Anton asks the question even though he knows the answer. He’s been recording and taking pictures of you for the better half of the month, and he knows that you’re never scared to film. But now you’re hesitant, it’s Anton who has to take the first step to put a hand on your thigh.

“I’ve never had to wait this long.” You move back to the corner of the couch so you’re propped against the armrest and the back of the couch. Anton immediately follows after you, turning on the couch to face you completely. When Anton covers up your body too much you put a hand on his shoulder, keeping the smallest distance between you two. But his hand moved to cup your cheek, and he’s grabbing at your thigh. “Why are you making me wait for so long?” You ask.

Anton pulls at you again, and he drags you from the armrest of the couch until you’re completely on your back.

“I wanted to treat you nice.” Anton’s hand guides your legs to wrap around his waist. 

“You do treat me nice.” You say immediately. You pull Anton closer by a hand on his shoulder.

“But I also didn’t want you to think I was just around for sex.” Anton looks to the camcorder you propped up in the corner of the living room. The red dot blinks back at him, bright and a stark difference from the warm lighting of the lamp on the tiny table beside the couch. “Will this be in the video though?” 

You turn Anton’s head to look back at you. 

“Just pretend it’s not even there.” You say quickly. “I’ll edit it all out, don’t even worry about it.”

Anton smiles at you, and before you know it he has you flipped over on top of him. He guides you to straddle him completely, and then he’s pulling at the bottom of your shirt. He helps you push it off your body, and he balls up the fabric to throw it somewhere else in the room. 

Even though you and Anton had gone all the way, you have never been put on such a display for him. Despite him recording you in various states of undress for your side hustle, there’s something different about you doing this just for him. Even if your camera records everything, you’re undressed just for Anton, and he’s looking up to you and gripping your chest like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you.

You don’t rush Anton’s hands. You let him be greedy and you let him take his time. You watch how you fit into the palm of his hand, how he wraps around you so easily. 

Anton is holding onto you and then he moves so fast it almost makes your head spin. In seconds his chest is pressed to your front, and an arm behind him is keeping him propped up. He presses his lips to the valley of your chest. A gentle kiss turns into the feeling of Anton sucking at your skin. Your lips part and a tiny gasp slips out, Anton keeps sucking and you wrap a hand in his hair to keep him there.

He pulls away, and you can already tell the patch of skin is going to be ugly tomorrow. Anton is unaffected, instead looking up at you. His lips are still glistening with spit when he pulls you closer.

“Do you think I’ll still be a good fuck?” He asked.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, you knew he would be. Even when you tried your best to not give him all the credit, reasoning with yourself that his height would make him a good fuck on technicality, you knew there was something more to it. Anton had the tendency to be a gentleman, but a specific brand of chivalry that seemed to be an innate part of who he was. He held the door open for everyone without a second thought and he always waited for you to ask for help even if you were visibly struggling. He always offered to pay for anything you laid your eyes on. He knew how to throw his weight around and show off his strength in a way that wasn’t intimidating, but had a way of paying such intimate attention to everyone it made you feel like there was something more between you two. He is attentive, he is kind, he is hot, he is tall, he is strong, and you think about him all the time—of course you knew he’d be a good fuck. 

Anton exhibited his strength again when you felt his hands scratch against your scalp, rough and demanding. As some sort of reprieve from the intensity you tried bringing your body closer to his. He was one step ahead of you—like he always was—and pulled you by your hair. You felt the pinprick sensation on your scalp and the tug made more of your neck and chest exposed to him. You could feel his eyes burn a hole the same place on your chest where there’d be a mark in the morning.

“How many people have you fucked?” Anton asked, eyes still on the angry splotch on your chest. “Since we stopped seeing eachother?” 

He licked his lips and leaned his head towards the same spot before flickering his eyes up to you. The position Anton had you in currently was compromising and he showed no signs of letting go. By the marks on your chest and the numbness of your lips you could already tell that Anton had some sort of problem when it came to possession. He was clearly the jealous type too, evident in the way the word fucked fell from his lips. Like he had to gag the word out, like the simple thought of someone else touching you like this made him want to vomit. 

The way Anton spoke made you think if you told him the truth of how many people you’ve seen there’d be nothing left of you by the time he was done. So you shook your head against the grip he has on your hair, trying to will the bass back to your voice.

“I don’t think you wanna know.” You say.

Your words hitch at the end when his hand palms your chest. Anton’s hands are soft despite the sheer size, but the way he pinches your hardened nipple is purposefully rough. Your sensitive skin is rolled between his middle finger and thumb, before he pulls your tit towards him. You whine from the pain and Anton looks at you eyes narrowed to let you know you gave him the wrong answer. 

The answer to his question is much less entertaining, you couldn’t imagine telling Anton about all of the people who you entertain in your chats on your streams or the people that message you on Twitter. You also couldn’t imagine telling Anton that this was a slow week for you. 

You finally casted your eyes down to Anton the same time he brought your chest back to his mouth. It was entirely too easy to hold you in the palm of his hand, to move you like you weighed nothing. You felt the absence of autonomy and it frightened you almost as much as it made you want to grind your hips on him again. The restriction didn’t stop you from moaning out when you felt Anton’s teeth graze your nipple, or whimpering when he brought his other hand to harshly pinch the other side. 

You already feel an impeding orgasm just from how rough he’s being with you, you can feel your walls seize around nothing as you cause more of a mess on his lap. The feeling churning in your stomach almost made you sick as you looked down at Anton, tears dotting your waterline as it all became too much. He looked up from your chest to see your deep pout and wet eyes. Instead of cooing at you affectionately and asking what he could do to fix it he only laughed at you. With your chest in his mouth and his lips sucking on your skin he laughed. The vibrations made you jump and twist your hand around in his grip, desperately looking for his wrist to push your nails into.

“Were you thinking about me when you were with other people?” He asked. “Thinking about your boyfriend while you were playing girlfriend with other guys?”

You want to tell Anton that he is not your boyfriend and you don’t only entertain men. But once again, the truth seems to be suspended in Anton’s presence. So you nod your head, looking for some sort of reprieve from all the pressure. The fact that you look down at a fully clothed Anton while you’re getting more and more undressed is too much. Your bra came off a long time ago, and when you can get  out of Anton’s greedy grip you try to push down at your waistband. You try to press your chest against his to kill two birds with one stone, but his hand that moved from your hair to your shoulder keeps you in place.

“Aht aht.” You could hear the mocking tone in his voice, your eyes refused to let you look down at the smirk that probably played on his lips. Your body unsuccessfully tried closing itself against Anton’s again, just to have his other hand tug on your hair again. “Don’t be embarrassed.” He coos.

Anton prevents you from pressing your body against his. You feel his eyes rake up and down your figure, again and again and you feel dizzy. You clench around nothing again and you whine, not stopping yourself from shaking your head.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. 

Anton hand released your hair a while ago but you keep it in the same place. You can’t form a thought but the way Anton looks at you tells you he already knows. Still he tilts his head to the side. He gives you the chance to answer, the same way a predator lets it’s prey run away for the sake of the chase.

“Fuck me please.” You say.

When you appear to be the most hopeless, Anton goes for the kill. His hands releasing you completely makes you freeze, like you weren’t fighting against his grasp moments prior. He looks at you looking at him, and then his hands go to resting behind his head.

“Do your thing.” He says.

You reach for the buttons on his pants way too fast. You stand on shaking legs and knees to undo it with hasty hands, completely opposite of Anton’s demeanor. His hands are lax behind him, barely holding himself up while you push his pants down his leg. Your pants are caught like a constricting belt on your waist, the material on your leg rides up more and more with each move you make. You’re unbothered though, more concerned with getting Anton undressed before your own comfort. 

The only way Anton moves is to reach into his back pocket as you push his pants down. He grabs his wallet, setting it on the table beside the couch as you continue pushing the denim down. Anton finally helps by lifting his waist off the couch, his fingers pushing his pants down the rest of the way. You follow suit, finally taking your pants off and letting it join the pile of clothes.

When Anton moved to lean against the back of the couch you went to straddle him again, completely naked while he still kept his shirt on. His hands were underneath your ass, kneading the skin harsher than he ever did before. He lifts you up with ease, and brings you back down until your clit bumps against his dick. There’s already a tiny dark stain blossoming at the bottom of Anton’s shirt from the precum leaking out from his tip. You start pulling at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head so quickly it ruffles his hair.

“We never got to do this in your car.” Anton whispers it to you so low that you’re not even sure the camera would be able to pick it up. You’re becoming less and less aware of the camera recording you both, if you cared you would know that this was a terrible angle and it was barely picking up what was happening between the two of you. “Feels like the first time.” He laughs.

“It kinda is.” You look down to his lap, and you work the slimy latex of the condom he put in your hand over his dick. You never got the chance to put the condom on Anton, so you have your fun with him. You’re able to draw out a hiss from Anton and make him buck into your hand, and you’re able to make him lean his head back until he’s melting into the couch. “We get to take our time.”

Anton leans further into the couch and he’s nodding his head helplessly. He’s so different from just a few moments before when he was grabbing you roughly and leaving marks on your skin. 

Like you two are desperately trying to make up for lost time you go through everything. You two are oscillating between being dominant and submissive, so quickly it’s almost confusing you both. Something tells you that you should be the dominant one tonight. That’s what your viewers are used to seeing, and technically you are the one on top. But you are at this place because of Anton, he’s the one that called you his girlfriend and meant it, and he was the one that was silently waiting for you to do what he wanted next. He was hard to figure out. He let you continue to jerk him off, letting out tiny sighs as your hand became slick from the lubricated latex.

You look down at Anton just to find that he’s already looking up at you. His eyes keep on flickering down to the mark on your chest, and for a second you think he’s going to lean forward and leave another.

“Can I touch you?” He asks the question while his hands continue to knead your ass. 

You nod anyways, and instantly one of his hands is wrapping around your waist and the other is going to your clit. The sight of Anton’s hand superimposing you is intoxicating. The way he knows to apply just the right amount of pressure behind his hands makes you lose the pace you set with your own. He’s too attentive for his own good you’ve decided. When he lifts his hand up quickly to lick the tips of his fingers before going back down you’ve decided he’s dangerous. He makes you pitch forward, and when he presses a little harder you let go of his dick completely to hold the couch on either side of his head for dear life. When Anton speeds his fingers up your huffing in the crook of his neck.

“I always wanted to do this.” Anton whispers directly into your ear before kissing the shell. When you open. your mouth to reply he applies more force, causing only a strangled whimper to escape your lips. “You have no idea.”

All you could do was nod your head. You felt lost, out of breath as Anton continued working his finger on your sensitive bud. He didn’t stop even when your hand went to his wrist to try and stop his movement but he’s stronger than you. He just looks up at you and bites his lip, smirking when you struggle to keep eye contact.

“Does it feel good?” Anton laughs when he sees you can’t speak. “So good, right?”

You start reaching your hand down to grab his dick, desperately trying to convey what you need physically. 

You’re grateful he gives in without you having to beg for it, because Anton finally takes his hand away from your clit to grab his dick instead. His other hand lifts you from his lap slightly, lining up at your entrance. His fat tip prods against you, and the way you already feel the burn in your legs. You were a seasoned professional, but with Anton looking up at you like you were the cutest thing in the world left you second guessing yourself.

“You gonna ride me?” Anton leans back on the couch and takes you with him, and you answer him by sinking down on him. 

You sigh when you feel him push into you slowly, and when it’s down to the hilt you pull in a sharp breath. You can feel yourself pulsing around him already, and you tilt your head back when Anton moves underneath you.

“Is this for your viewers or for me?” You twist your head to the blinking red light, reminding you that you still are recording every single thing taking place. Anton follows your gaze over your shoulder, bringing you close by a hold on the back of your neck. “I’m your biggest fan, you know.” 

You realize there’s no point in recording anymore, because Anton whispers everything into your ear and your body is blocking the view. The only thing the camera picks up is the wet sound of Anton bringing you down and down again on his dick. You don’t put on a show like you used to when it was just you and your toys, this is the real thing. Anton is living and breathing and warm, taking up all of you and getting you to take all of him again and again.

“I watched everything, by the way.” Anton keeps his hand wrapped around your waist, moving you back and forth on him. “You sound so different now, though.”

“No I don’t.” 

You start moving your hips the same way Anton guides you, doing anything you can to take back control. He responds by changing the pace, and then bringing your chest close to his mouth again. Right next to the mark he already left he leaves another, that’s angry and even bigger than the one before. 

“Yes you do.” It’s pitiful that you squeeze around Anton at the bass in his voice. He’s sincere, and then you’re on your back with Anton looming over you. “I know the sounds you make on your little streams are fake, but you’re not playing it up for me at all.”

The new position lets Anton dig deeper into you, and it lets him go faster and harder too. You’re on display for the camera now , and you’re reaching behind you to find stability in the armrest. Your sounds are unfiltered, slipping through your parted lips. You’re loud and wrecked, and Anton is right. You’ve never made sounds without thinking about them first. Nothing about this is calculated, down to the ferine way Anton is fucking you. He’s crashing his lips onto yours and you’re moaning into his mouth, just when you think you can handle it one of his hands pushes on the back of your thigh.

“See?” Anton is struggling too, his words getting pushed out with each thrust. He looks down between your two bodies where you meet. “You’re never this loud for your fake boyfriends.”

“Baby.” You whimper and he looks to you. The light from the lamp catches the sweat beading at his forehead and the flush on his cheeks. “I won’t be able to use this footage if you keep talking like that.” 

Instead of pulling back, Anton smirks again. He speeds up, making your chest move and making you lose your breath again. He holds onto you tight and brings his body closer to yours, strong and solid over you.

“We’ll just have to film again then.” You scratch his back and you can’t even verbalize that you’re close. Anton’s sweaty forehead is pressed to your chest, keeping you glued together. “I got plenty more for you.” 

You can’t keep it together long enough to warn Anton. You just move your hand to his head, holding him close to your chest as you cum. Anton stills for you, and you pathetically lift your hips again and again to get more stimulation. You squeeze around him and Anton just coos as you, kissing the flaming skin on your chest and telling you how cute you are even if you’re treating him like a human dildo. 

He continues murmuring to you and coaxing you down from your peak until you’re spent underneath him, laying completely flat on the couch until you start melting into it yourself.

Anton’s large hand that was wrapped around your waist moves to your lower stomach instead. Feeling his hand on you causes you to twitch, and when he teasingly applies force you groan and start to writhe underneath him. He laughs at your condition, seemingly unfazed as he backs away from between your legs to sit down on the couch in front of you. The only indication that he’s as wrecked as you are is the way he takes in deep breaths, but even then he is ready while you’re still trying to regain your composure. Anton rubs your knee and smiles at how your limp leg yields to the lightest amount of force.

“I definitely won’t be able to use any of the footage.” You say. You turn your weak head to the camera and Anton follows suit. You playfully kick at his chest with your foot. “I bet the lighting was terrible. And you kept on talking to me all crazy.”

Anton’s hands go to your ankle, wrapping around it. He guides a foot to one side of your body, propping himself between your legs again.

“Well. We do have all weekend.”

[tessasturns]

nerd!matt giving brat!reader head

100 follower special !!

warnings… oral (f receiving), matt the munch, soft dom!matt, swearing, slight degrading, hair pulling?, edging, pet names

my first actual smut fic, mb if its ass but enjoy

(masterlist) (taglist)

“so if a dataset has a mean of 50 and a standard deviation of 5, what percentage of the data falls within one standard deviation of the mean?” matt asks.

you groan as you fling your head back. “matt c’mon, we’re not gettin’ anywhere with this”

“alright jus’ this one question.” matt says as he acknowledges your whines. matt was smart, like really smart, and it was noticeable to anybody who saw him.

the collared shirt, big glasses, and the awkward persona were enough to give it away.

“matt” you complain. “we’ve been at this for hours… can we just wrap it up? my brain isnt working anymore.”

“c’mon sweetheart…just a couple more questions, we’ve almost finished reviewing this unit.” he said, trying to get you to cram for your exam tomorrow.

“ugh fine. one more question” you say, only agreeing because, truly, how could you say no to him?

minutes pass and all you begin to think about is the growing heat between your legs.

you uncomfortably try to adjust your legs to make it stop, but nothing works. you start to zone out, your mind racing with all the things the man in front of you should be doing.

sure, you’ve noticed how stunning matt is, i mean you are “dating” him.

you look around his dorm to try and find anything else to focus on.

but his messy hair, shirt pulled up to see his veiny arms, and the raspy voice were enough to make a woman go wild.

“hellooo? y/n?” matt calls, causing you to snap out of your trance. “hey?” you respond.

“i asked you a question- you’re not listening are you.” he realizes.

“matt ‘m sorry, but i just don’t understand this and i’m so tired” you whine.

“sweetheart, you have your exams tomorrow. if you don’t revise and study you won’t do your best on it.” he warns.

he knew you weren’t the smartest person, well at least not compared to him, but he knew that it was probably your daddy’s money that got you a spot at a prestigious university.

“just two more-” he starts, but notices the pout on your face and your crossed legs and chuckles.

“oh sweetheart, you couldn’t even wait ten minutes for us to finish this?” he says, mumbling a small ‘pathetic’ before moving closer to you.

“please matt” you whine.

“please what?” he smiles, his hand on your knee.

“pl-please touch me” you pout, knowing he wasn’t going to give in that easily.

“oh, you poor thing” he coos with faux sympathy laced on his tongue.

he rubs a hand up and down your knee, your plaid skirt you wore to tease him now sliding up your thighs.

“fuck- matt don’t tease…” you mewl, your arousal now practically dripping in between your legs.

he smirked at you, loving the way you reacted to the slightest touch and the simplest of words.

“take this off f’me, yeah?” he basically whispers, running his hand over your skirt.

you do just that as he points over to the bed. “sit” he commands.

you’re now sitting at the edge of the bed in your baby blue lingerie, waiting for matt to touch you.

he gets down on his knees, slowly kissing your now slightly shaking thighs.

your pussy aches for this man, wanting him to just touch you.

he slowly takes off your panties, disregarding them on the floor as he softly spreads open your legs.

he wraps your thighs around his head, looking up at you with those submissive ass eyes.

“matt- please i need you” you beg, your fingers intertwined in his brown locks.

he smiles at the amount of power he has over you, kissing your pussy before slowly licking your clit.

you slightly moan at the sudden pleasure, your mouth agape.

he continues this subtle yet effective movement, earning more and more moans from you.

he begins to lap his tongue around your hole, causing you to grab his hair.

his tongue moves faster and faster as your hips buck against his tongue.

“y’like that sweetie?” matt asks, moving his tongue faster (if possible.)

“oh fuck- yes matt” you whine, your brain foggy. “m’gonna cum”

“ah ah ah” he tuts, stopping his movements. “i’ll tell you when you can come doll”

this only made you whine more, since you were used to getting your way.

“f-fuck matt… i can’t take it” “oh but yes you can doll. you practically begged for it, you’re gonna take it.” he commands.

you were a moaning mess on his bed. eyes rolled to the back of your head, legs shaking, and your hands gripping at matts hair in an attempt to make him go faster.

“h-holy shit” you moan. “please i need to cum”

“hmm… have you been good?” he asks.

“yes… please matt” you groan.

“atta girl, cum on my tongue babydoll” matt’s words, tongue, hands travelling your body, and piercing blue eyes were enough to send you over the edge.

you felt your body relax and the knot in your stomach snap as you released your arousal on his tongue.

“this gonna help you ace your exam tomorrow?” matt asks jokingly, as you playfully smack his shoulder.

tessa’s notes… THANK YOU ALL FOR 100 FOLLOWERS !!! i truly didn’t know how fast i could grow over the span of 3 months, but you all made it happen and i’m so grateful for every single one of you💋. guys i literally HATEEE writing smut so i do apologize if it’s terrible, js wanted to try smth different to express my gratitude for all of you !!!

[heartyluv]

wait wait wait hear me out Caleb with a dad bod

just like a tiny one yknow but he starts getting insecure about it and shit and thinks that reader won’t find him attractive anymore while she finds it so cute and hot asf and she just wants him to fuck her brains out

note: omg this is absolutely everything…i could see myself doing a full fic on this one day if you’d like, anon! now, i didn’t write this to be freaky bc i don’t think that kind of reaction would suit a situation like this, but if i did a full one, the sex would for sureeee get like that. regardless, its short and quick, but i hope you like this. 😚

warning: mentions of weight gain, caleb doesn’t like his body

i feel like when you notice, it’s because he starts wearing shirts all the time. like you could never get caleb to put a shirt on if you wanted him to when you first started dating—and you loved it. you’re in love with that man and his body, so of course you always wanted to see it.

i’m picturing you and caleb as a couple who loves food. going out to eat, finding new restaurants, cooking new meals—like that’s your thing. but maybe down the line, he gets so busy with work that he ends up skipping the gym more often and with the eating habits he has with you, he puts on a few pounds. maybe his abs aren’t as defined as they used to be.

so he wants to hide it from you. and it was subtle at first—starting with just a tank top all the time. then he went full blown t-shirts, wanted to be behind you when you had sex or on top so you had to focus on his face and nothing else.

when you started realizing what he was doing, especially when he would ask for and do things he never has—like if you could turn around when he wanted to change or leaving the room entirely to do so—your heart brokeeee.

now, let me set the scene of confrontation: he comes home from work, takes a shower, and throws on another too-big t-shirt. you ask him to come to the bedroom when he’s done and he can see the determination in your eyes. it’s worrying and scaring the shit out of him.

“take your shirt off.” your tone is straight. not aggressive, but serious.

caleb would freeze. ready to run. “w-why…do you—”

“caleb,” you cut him off. “take.it.off.”

he legitimately thinks that this will be the end of you two. that you’ll see him and want to leave. but he’ll listen and will slowly pull his shirt off, but he holds it in front of his body.

“why are you doing that, baby?” you frown. the mindset and intention to be stern would be overridden by sadness when you see how vulnerable he looks.

“let me see you. i miss seeing you.” he can barely keep his eyes on you, continuously looking at the floor in silence.

“you don’t want to see me like this,” he’d retort with embarrassment. “i’m not the same. you won’t like it. i can’t do that to you.”

you won’t have this. won’t have him talking about himself like that. not the love of your life.

so you walk up to him and look into his eyes that are clearly watering as you pull his shirt away from his grasp. you then hold his arms down in place so he doesn’t try to keep himself hidden from you any longer.

when you look down to see his now softer stomach, all you do is fall in love with him all over again. not a single part of you thought to judge or criticize him. the fact that he even thought you’d want to, hurt you to your core.

“caleb…you look absolutely fuckable,” you nearly whisper. it makes him snort out a surprise laugh. you’re not lying and by the exasperation in your voice, he might just believe you.

“you’re the same man who taught me to love myself just as much as you love me. you taught me what it means to lean on you when i’m unsure.” you’d bend down to kiss his stomach. they’re featherlight, but full of meaning as you pepper them along his soft skin.

“you’re also the only man on this planet earth who i’ll ever love and whatever you think negatively about your body, know that i will never agree.” you’ll stand to kiss his nose and his lip will tremble. he can’t believe he’s this lucky. “let me show you how perfect you are, yeah?”

he starts to whimper, exhaling in relief when you press more kisses to his neck and jaw. “i’ve missed riding your cock, babe. missed seeing every inch of you. will you let me?”

and he’d mumble a gentle yes because oh…he misses it too.

of course he wouldn’t automatically just believe your words, but with how ravenous you become when you have just a little bit of him back, he knows that doubting your love for him because of something so unimportant, is a mistake he’ll never make again.

[itwillbethescarletwitch]

Don’t Blame Me pt2

Evan Buckley x Fem!Reader

The sound is unreal.

Flat. Piercing. Endless.

The moment the monitor flatlines, Buck forgets how to breathe. The shrill scream of it cuts through him like glass, splintering the last fragile thread holding him together.

“No—no, no, no—SOMEONE HELP!”

He’s on his feet, shoving the chair back so violently it crashes against the wall. Nurses rush in. Alarms blare. The room is suddenly chaos—but Buck is the still point at the center of it. Frozen. Pale. Eyes wide as his whole world slips through trembling fingers.

“She was just moving,” he gasps. “She—her hand moved—I swear to God—”

They’re already pulling him back. Code blue. Hands on chest. Chest compressions. Fast. Hard. Unrelenting.

Buck stumbles into the hallway. Eddie catches him, but it’s like trying to hold back a tidal wave with bare hands.

“No—she can’t—she was just here—I FELT HER—”

The sound of the defibrillator charging coils down the hallway.

“Clear!”

He watches the jolt ripple through her.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

No response.

A nurse closes the curtain halfway. Buck screams.

“I NEED TO SEE HER—LET ME SEE HER—”

His knees hit the linoleum before his brain even realizes he’s falling. His hands cover his face, and his voice shatters beneath them.

The wind outside howls against the ICU windows. It moans like it’s grieving too—rattling the panes, pushing against the glass as if trying to crawl inside and hold him. The rain has started. A slow, cold drizzle that runs down the windows in crooked trails like tears.

Buck doesn’t know how long he stays there.

Long enough for his voice to crack.

Long enough for his fingers to go numb.

Long enough to realize that if she dies, so does he.

“She was just here,” he whispers, forehead against the floor. “She was just here.”

———

There’s no pain here.

No beeping. No blood. No wires.

Just… quiet.

Soft, muted quiet—like the whole world’s holding its breath.

You’re standing in a field, barefoot on damp grass. The air is warm and thick with the scent of wildflowers. Lavender. Honeysuckle. Sunlight cuts through tall trees in golden shards. It should feel peaceful. Beautiful, even.

But your chest aches like something important is missing.

Like you forgot to breathe. Like your heart doesn’t know if it’s supposed to be beating anymore.

The wind shifts, and it’s the kind that lifts your hair and brushes your skin so gently it feels like a memory. The breeze smells like home.

And then—

You hear it.

Footsteps.

Familiar. Light.

You turn.

Your breath catches.

“Mom?” you whisper.

She’s walking toward you with that same soft smile she used to wear when she’d wake you up for school with a kiss on your forehead. Her hair is down. She’s barefoot too. And behind her—

“Dad,” you whisper, a sob cracking in your throat.

He’s smiling too. His arms are open.

You run.

You hit them like a wave, arms wrapping around their waists, your body collapsing into theirs like you’re still five years old. Their hands come up, stroking your hair, cradling your head.

“I missed you,” you choke. “God, I missed you—”

“We know, baby,” your mom murmurs. Her voice is exactly the same. Gentle. Sacred. “We missed you too.”

You pull back just enough to look at them, to memorize the lines of their faces again.

“I thought you were gone.”

“We are,” your dad says, softly. “But you’re not.”

You look around the field again, confused.

“Then where am I?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He just gently takes your hand and presses it to your chest.

You feel it.

A thready, slow heartbeat.

Barely there.

“You’re not done fighting,” he says.

Your mom strokes your cheek. Her eyes shine. “He’s waiting for you.”

You flinch.

“Buck—” His name breaks on your lips. “He thinks I’m dead. He was there when I—he heard the monitors—he was right there—”

Tears spill down your face before you realize you’re crying.

“Sweetheart,” your mom whispers, pulling you close again. “He’s breaking. But he hasn’t stopped hoping. Not for a second.”

“I’m scared,” you admit. “I don’t know if I can come back. Everything hurts.”

“You don’t have to be unafraid,” your dad says. “You just have to be willing.”

You grip his hand tighter.

“Do you want to go?” he asks you gently. “Be here—with us?”

The question sits in the air like smoke.

You look between them.

This would be easier. No more pain. No more heartbreak. No more wondering if you’re enough. If you’re too much. If you’ll ever stop falling apart.

But then—

You remember the marsala sauce.

The look on Buck’s face when he begged you to wake up.

The way his voice cracked when he said he was sorry.

And you know.

You’d never forgive yourself if you left him like that.

“I want to stay,” you whisper. “I want to live.”

Your parents smile.

Your mom kisses your forehead.

“Then go, baby.”

“Go back to him,” your dad adds. “He’s waiting.”

———

The flatline doesn’t stop.

It drills into Buck’s skull like a spike — one long, steady note of devastation.

His world narrows into sound:

That alarm.

The hiss of the ventilator disconnecting.

The soft shuffle of the nurse’s footsteps.

And then, silence.

Too quiet.

The kind of quiet that confirms your worst fear.

“No…” Buck breathes. His knees hit the floor beside her bed. “No, please—please don’t do this…”

The ICU nurse checks again. Calm, composed. Doing her job.

“Time of death?” the attending doctor says softly, eyes on the monitor, his voice muted through the ringing in Buck’s ears.

Buck grabs her hand. “No. No! You don’t get to say that! You don’t get to say that! She just moved — I felt her move! You said she was stable!”

The doctor’s face is soft with sympathy but firm with finality. He looks to the nurse and nods.

And then they leave.

They leave him in the room.

Alone.

With her body still and her hand still cooling in his.

The curtain falls back into place.

Outside, down the hall, Eddie stands, eyes locked on the closed doors. Chim’s sitting, head in hands. Hen hasn’t spoken in twenty minutes. Bobby paces like he’ll wear through the floor.

None of them go in.

Because Buck asked them not to.

He didn’t want anyone to see what he’d become.

⸻

Inside the Room

The wind wails outside. The room is dim, shadows crawling across the floor. Machines buzz faintly.

Buck is still on the floor, forehead pressed to her hand like he could breathe life back into her.

His body shakes. His whole chest convulses.

“I was supposed to come home,” he sobs. “You waited for me… You made dinner for me. You tried, and I couldn’t even text you back.”

His voice is a rasp now — hoarse and shredded, spoken into the dark.

“I was scared,” he whispers. “But not of you. Never of you. I was scared of how much I loved you. Scared I’d lose you if I let you see all the messy shit in my head.”

His thumb strokes over her knuckles.

“But I lost you anyway.”

He presses her hand to his lips, trembling.

“I never said it enough. I didn’t show it enough. I kept thinking there’d be time.”

His breath shudders.

“There was supposed to be more time.”

His voice collapses into a sob, and then another. Deep, aching, guttural. He presses his face into the bed, curls around her hand like a man begging God not to take the only thing keeping him alive.

“I can’t do this without you,” he whispers. “I don’t want to. You hear me? I don’t want to!”

Thunder rolls far off in the distance. The wind picks up. The curtain flutters like breath.

Then—

Something shifts.

Not big. Not loud.

But something.

Buck stills.

Very slowly… he lifts his head.

The monitor that had flatlined — that had drawn the line between life and loss — flickers.

A small sound. Beep.

Then another.

His eyes widen. He scrambles upright, hand flying to her wrist.

“C’mon. C’mon, please…”

The pulse is faint.

But it’s there.

“HEY! NURSE!” Buck bellows, nearly throwing the door open. “SHE’S BACK—SHE’S BACK—SHE HAS A PULSE!”

The nurse rushes in with a code team. The room erupts with motion again, but this time it’s not grief — it’s hope.

They check monitors. Shout orders. Hook her back to the machines.

And Buck is still right there. Hands trembling, tears still falling, eyes locked on her face.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers, voice cracking. “Come back to me. You’re almost here.”

She doesn’t open her eyes yet.

But the pulse grows stronger.

Her chest rises more fully with each breath the ventilator gives her.

And her hand?

That fingers-curled hand in his?

It twitches again.

This time, she doesn’t let go.

⸻

Just outside, in the waiting room—

Eddie looks up from where he’s sitting.

He hears Buck’s voice. Yelling.

But not in pain.

In hope.

Then the door bursts open.

Buck’s standing there, soaked in sweat and tears, breathless.

“She’s back,” he gasps. “She’s back.”

And then he’s on the floor again — but this time, Eddie catches him.

Buck falls into his arms like the weight of the world just slipped off his shoulders.

“She came back,” he chokes. “She came back to me.”

And this time, he lets himself cry.

Not for what he lost.

But for what he almost did.

———

One Week Later

The heart monitor beeps steady and slow.

The sky is a soft silver blue outside the window, the faint hum of early traffic drifting through the glass. Rain falls in a thin mist, clinging to the edge of the city like a secret it hasn’t told yet.

Buck hasn’t moved from the chair beside her bed. Not all night. Not since the monitor stopped flatlining and the room filled with the frantic sound of doctors bringing her back.

He’s barely breathed since.

She hasn’t stirred since they stabilized her again.

But now—

Now something shifts.

Her fingers twitch.

Just barely.

Then again.

Buck shoots up like a live wire, eyes wide. “Nurse—hey! Hey—she’s moving!”

The charge nurse is already at the monitor, eyes flying to the numbers. She glances down. Her voice is calm but clipped. “Get respiratory in here. She’s coming out of it.”

Another twitch. Her brows furrow. Her hand tugs weakly at the sheet.

She’s waking up.

“Y/N?” Buck’s voice is shaking. He stands over her now, leaning close, barely breathing. “Baby, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

Her eyes flutter. Her lashes twitch. A low, muffled sound escapes her throat — tight, gagging.

The nurse is already pulling gloves on. “She’s conscious and fighting the tube. We need to extubate—now.”

“Is she in pain?” Buck chokes.

“She’s panicking. Her body’s waking up faster than we planned for.”

Another breath catches in her throat — shallow, panicked.

You’re awake. Almost fully.

And there’s something in your throat you can’t breathe around. Something cold. Foreign. You gag. Panic coils up like fire. Your chest rises too fast. You try to reach, but your arms are heavy, like lead.

But then—

A hand wraps around yours.

Warm. Steady. Familiar.

“Hey, hey,” Buck’s voice breaks at the edges, cracking with both love and fear. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe. They’re going to take it out, okay? Just hold on. I’m right here.”

You blink.

His face swims into view — blurry at first, but then crystal sharp.

His eyes are shining, wide with tears. His thumb strokes your knuckles.

“I’m right here,” he whispers again. “Don’t be scared.”

Respiratory therapy arrives, fast and focused. The nurse nods to Buck. “You can stay. Just stay to the side and don’t get in the way.”

He nods, gripping your hand tighter.

You gag again. You want it out.

The respiratory therapist leans in. “Y/N, I know it’s scary, but we’re going to take the tube out now. I need you to cough when I say. Do you understand?”

You blink once.

Then again.

Enough to say yes.

“Good girl,” Buck whispers.

The therapist gets in position. “Okay. On three. One… two… cough—”

You do.

You gag, heave—

And the tube slides out in one long, horrible pull.

You gasp.

Buck’s heart breaks in that moment, watching you struggle for that first clean, clear breath. The tears slip from his eyes and land in the sheets.

You cough, hard, your throat raw and burning. Your eyes flood. A nasal cannula is slipped into place, giving you oxygen. You suck in the air like it’s the first breath of your entire life.

And maybe it is.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Buck soothes, brushing the hair back from your damp forehead. “You’re doing so good. I’m right here.”

You squeeze his hand so tight now. Desperate. Real.

The nurse steps back, eyes checking the vitals. “She’s stable. Off the vent. She’s going to be hoarse for a while, but she’s breathing on her own.”

Buck just nods, forehead against your hand.

You’re exhausted, but your eyes don’t leave his. And his — God, his — they don’t stop watching you like you’re the only star in the sky he’s ever wanted to find his way back to.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispers, lips trembling as he kisses the back of your hand. “I thought you were gone.”

You open your mouth, voice raw.

A croak.

He grabs the water before the nurse can even move. “Here—small sips, okay?”

You take a sip — it burns a little, but the water is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever tasted.

You blink. Tears slipping down your temple now. “You were here?”

“I never left,” Buck breathes. “Not for a second.”

You close your eyes.

The worst part is over.

You’re back.

And he’s here.

———

Your hand is trembling in his. Your throat is scorched raw, but your heart aches louder.

Buck sinks down into the chair, still gripping you like you might disappear again. His free hand presses against his lips for a second, like if he doesn’t hold it there, the emotion will pour out too fast.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so—God, I’m so sorry.”

Your lashes flutter, slow and wet, as you turn your head the tiniest bit toward him.

“I didn’t come home,” he says, voice cracking. “You cooked dinner, you waited for me, and I didn’t show up. I didn’t even tell you I took that shift. And then when you came to the station—when you dropped that food off—I just… I froze. I didn’t stop you.”

You try to speak again. Your voice catches.

“Water,” he murmurs, grabbing the cup again.

You sip. The plastic straw feels foreign, but the water is cool and kind. Your next breath is a little easier.

“Evan,” you rasp, throat like sandpaper.

His name on your tongue makes his head drop, shoulders folding in like you knocked the wind out of him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you say, barely audible.

“You didn’t scare me,” he says hoarsely. “You wrecked me.”

His eyes find yours again, red and wide.

“I thought you were dead. I thought I’d lost you because I didn’t come home. Because I was too much of a coward to tell you I was scared of being loved that hard.”

Your brows pull together, a tear sliding down your cheek.

He’s already reaching to wipe it away.

“You were trying to fix things,” he says, voice small. “And I made you walk away thinking I didn’t care. That I didn’t love you. And that—that’s the thing that’s been killing me every second since.”

You squeeze his fingers.

“I knew,” you whisper, broken but sure. “I knew you loved me.”

He shakes his head, one tear slipping down his cheek. “I didn’t show it. Not that night. Not the way you deserved.”

You manage another sip of water.

“You were scared,” you say gently. “I was too.”

Buck presses his forehead to the back of your hand again. You can feel his breath shaking.

“I should’ve answered you that morning,” he murmurs. “When you asked if I was still in it with you. I should’ve said yes. Because I am. I always was.”

Your hand finds the side of his face, weak but determined. He leans into it like he’s been waiting his whole life for your touch.

“Then say it now,” you whisper, voice cracking with everything inside you. “Say it like you mean it.”

He lifts his head slowly.

“I’m in this,” Buck says, like a vow. “With you. All the way. No more running. No more hiding. No more shutting you out.”

You nod, tears slipping freely down your cheeks now.

“I thought…” you breathe, “I wouldn’t get to see your face again.”

He shakes his head, cradling your hand against his heart.

“I would’ve traded mine for yours.”

Silence falls for a moment, but it’s not heavy anymore.

It’s full.

Full of the weight of survival. Of love. Of a second chance neither of you are going to waste.

“You came back to me,” Buck whispers.

“I always will,” you rasp.

His thumb brushes the side of your wrist, just over your pulse, and you both feel it — there. Steady. Alive.

[sowerpatch]

paige and azzi for the so sick request

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd Summary: Paige is doing her best to move on. She deletes the voicemail, crosses out the calendar heart, and skips every song that still sounds like Azzi. But the apartment remains too quiet, the city too loud, and healing—whatever it’s supposed to look like—feels just out of reach.

And then she learns that trying to forget someone isn’t the same as letting go.

Author's note: this is an AU where Azzi is a model. I hope this one is what you're looking for @anon Word count: 4,529

The voicemail played again. 

Same pause between their voices. Same soft smile folded into the recording. Paige stood barefoot in the kitchen, one hand resting against the marble counter as the message echoed into the stillness of her apartment. 

“Hey, you’ve reached Paige and Azzi. We can’t come to the phone right now, probably out or asleep—leave something sweet.” 

Azzi’s voice came after hers. Smooth. Teasing. That familiar upward lilt at the end like she had been smiling during the recording. Paige remembered the exact moment they made it—sitting on the couch after practice, limbs tangled beneath a shared blanket, Azzi half-laughing through the first take because Paige kept whispering ridiculous lines into her shoulder. They must have recorded it five or six times before getting one they both liked. It wasn’t even supposed to last a week. 

Paige hadn’t changed it in almost three months. 

Her thumb hovered over the delete button. Just like it had last week. And the week before that. She should have changed it the night Azzi left. Should have done it before the silence stretched long enough to make everything ache. But every time she tried, something in her refused to let it go. 

The apartment was cold. Not physically—she had turned the heat on hours ago—but it felt lifeless in the way spaces do when no one else breathes in them. Practice gear sat slumped over a chair in the corner. Her Liberty duffel bag remained unopened beside the door.  

The scent of sweat clung faintly to the jersey she had peeled off earlier and tossed onto the floor. None of it bothered her until now. Until she had to admit she had left everything untouched because she didn’t know what to do with herself anymore once the day ended. 

Azzi would have called her out. Would’ve taken the jersey, thrown it in her face, and told her to shower before the stink became a health hazard. She used to joke that Paige’s chaos had its own gravitational pull, that even her mess was loud. But she’d say it while curling into Paige’s lap or stealing her hoodie, so it never sounded like a complaint. 

Those things were gone now. The hoodies, the teasing, the weight of someone’s head resting against her shoulder at the end of a long day. Paige hadn’t heard her voice in weeks. She hadn’t realized how often she had played that voicemail just to remember the sound of it. 

It wasn’t healthy. She knew that. 

She gripped the edge of the counter, fingers tightening against the cool surface as if the stone could anchor her in place. Her reflection in the oven door looked thinner, more angular. Her eyes didn’t carry the same spark they used to during postgame interviews. Reporters had started noticing. Teammates had too. But no one said anything because Paige still delivered. Still dropped points. Still smiled like her life wasn’t caving in from the inside out. 

She had tried to convince herself she was over it. Over Azzi. Over the fights and the slammed doors and the messages that kept being left on read.  

She threw herself into the season, into practices that left her breathless and aching, because anything felt better than remembering how Azzi used to wait outside the gym with a smoothie and her arms open. 

Strength had become a performance. An armor. She let people see it, let them believe she had moved on, but the truth clung to her in quieter moments. In empty kitchens. In voicemails that hadn’t made sense for months. In the mornings when her bed felt too big and too cold. 

Her phone buzzed against the counter. An email. Nothing important. Probably Liberty PR. She ignored it. 

Instead, she opened her contacts and scrolled out of habit. She didn’t even need to search the name. Her fingers already knew the motion. The thread with Azzi was buried beneath dozens of new messages now, but it still lived in her phone like it had never left. 

The last message Azzi had sent was short. Tired. Paige had responded with something she thought would make her laugh. Azzi hadn’t replied. Paige had stared at that conversation more times than she wanted to admit, waiting for the three little dots that never came. 

She closed the app and turned back to the voicemail. Her stomach twisted, a slow pull that reached up into her chest. She didn’t want to hear it again. Couldn’t keep pretending that letting it play helped her feel closer to something that didn’t exist anymore. 

She tapped the message. 

It asked her if she wanted to delete it. 

Her thumb hovered. Hesitated. Then pressed. 

The screen blinked. Message erased. 

The apartment stayed quiet. 

She waited for something to shift inside her. Waited for the relief, the rush of liberation people always talked about when they let go. But all she felt was the echo of Azzi’s voice fading, the absence of it more painful than she expected. 

She walked back to the couch and sat down slowly, like her body weighed more than it used to. The fabric smelled like the body wash Azzi left behind. She had meant to wash it out. Never had. 

The TV was still on. Some commercial was playing in the background, bright and overproduced. Paige didn’t look at it. She stared at the phone in her hand instead. Her chest felt heavy. Her throat tight. 

The tears didn’t come. She was past crying. The sadness lived deeper now, settled into her bones like a season she couldn’t skip. 

She had told herself she was stronger than this. Had practiced the words. Rehearsed the tone. She was tired of being the girl in love with a memory. Tired of walking around with her head down and her heart full of things left unsaid. Tired of giving space to someone who chose to walk away. 

She had played every song that reminded her of Azzi until they made her sick. Switched stations. Skipped tracks. Blamed the radio when it found her anyway. 

Still, something inside her refused to shut off. Some part of her kept listening for Azzi’s voice in places where it didn’t belong. Kept waiting for the next whisper, the next glimpse, the next memory that might let her believe Azzi missed her too. 

The apartment stayed still. 

Paige leaned back and let the ache rise. She had deleted the message. She had taken the first step. 

But even now, she couldn’t turn off the part of herself that kept listening. 

- 

Another week, another struggle to forget. 

The calendar still hung in its usual place beside the fridge, the same spot Azzi had insisted on last year when they moved into the new apartment together. She said kitchens deserved softness. Something tactile to keep them grounded, even when the world demanded efficiency. So she pinned a monthly calendar there, minimalist in design, each box etched in soft gray lines, every date handwritten in neat, looping strokes. 

Paige hadn’t touched it since March. 

The digital calendar on her phone handled everything that mattered. Practice blocks, media sessions, therapy appointments, charter flights. Her life operated on screens now, optimized and auto-synced, one notification away from whatever came next. 

But the wall calendar still held things her phone never did. 

There it was. 

June 22. 

A heart drawn with care, right in the corner of the box. A half-laughing scribble Azzi had made one morning, bare-legged in a Liberty hoodie, marker in one hand, coffee in the other. Paige had watched her write it. Had kissed her neck while she did. Had promised that year two would be easier than the first. 

That square was supposed to mean dinner reservations and flowers Azzi would pretend she didn’t expect. It was supposed to mean hands beneath linen sheets and forehead kisses shared beneath city light. It was supposed to be theirs. 

Now it was just a stain on the paper. A black heart Paige couldn’t bring herself to erase. 

She reached for it anyway. 

Fingers hovered over the box, just shy of touching it. The air between her hand and the calendar felt dense. Her breath came shallow, fragile in its restraint. She didn’t want to admit how many times this month she had stood in that same spot, staring at that same square, unable to make a move. 

Today was different. 

She opened the drawer and pulled out the same black pen she had used to sign her Liberty contract. The tip hovered. Her hand trembled. She pressed down, dragging a line across the heart. One slow, uneven stroke. The ink bled too much. The line wasn’t clean. It shook halfway through, curved without control, but she didn’t lift the pen until it was done. 

Then she stepped back, ashamed of the relief she thought she might feel. It didn’t come. 

Instead, the weight in her chest deepened. 

Her entire body felt tight, like her skin had shrunk a size smaller overnight. She walked away from the calendar but left the drawer open. The pen still sat there, uncapped. She couldn't bring herself to put it away. 

The apartment had grown too quiet again. The refrigerator hummed softly. Distant traffic murmured below. The silence pressed in from every direction, like it was trying to fill the gaps Azzi had left behind. 

Paige moved to the living room and dropped onto the couch. Her muscles ached, not from training, but from carrying things she couldn’t unload. Her knees came up to her chest, arms folding over them as if she could make herself smaller, less visible to the grief still hanging in the room. 

She reached for the remote and turned on the speaker system. The shuffle playlist from her “calm nights” folder came on, something she hadn’t updated since winter. A soft beat swelled from the speakers, gentle chords, hushed vocals. 

Her heart reacted before her mind did. 

Azzi. 

She knew this song. Knew the way Azzi used to sing it under her breath when she cooked. Knew the part where the chorus would build and Azzi would always miss the beat, every single time, without fail. Knew the way they used to dance to it barefoot in the kitchen, pretending the tiles were a stage and the world wasn’t waiting outside. 

She stood abruptly and turned it off. The silence returned, this time louder, angrier. 

Every song had become a landmine. Lyrics didn’t just haunt her; they narrated her. Every line felt like a memory she hadn’t asked to relive. She had stopped listening to music with lyrics altogether during workouts. She pretended it was a focus thing, but the truth was she couldn’t handle the words. Every single one became a reminder. A rerun. A timestamp of what used to be. 

She grabbed the remote and held it tightly in her fist. Her knuckles whitened. Her hand trembled. The music system stayed off. 

Her gaze fell to the coffee table. There were still pieces of Azzi there. A folded magazine with her face on the cover. A branded perfume bottle Paige had never moved. A book Azzi had been halfway through, a receipt tucked in at chapter nine. All of it sat there like it belonged. Like Paige hadn’t spent every day since the breakup trying to erase the shape Azzi made in this space. 

Her chest ached. 

She whispered the date aloud. 

“June twenty-two.” 

The words tasted bitter. She had imagined today so differently. Champagne. Warm hands. Azzi’s lips against her neck, soft and lingering, whispering a thank-you into her skin. Instead, she stood in the wreckage of what used to be, surrounded by echoes she couldn’t turn off, songs she couldn’t bear to hear, memories that felt too vivid to fade. 

She had stopped wishing Azzi would come back. That was the part that hurt most. 

The hope had died slow, quiet deaths over the weeks. Texts gone unanswered. Headlines read too late. Azzi smiling at runways and camera flashes like she never once fell asleep with her face pressed into Paige’s chest. The world had moved forward. Azzi had moved forward. 

Paige was still here. Still in this apartment. Still staring at a calendar she should have thrown out. 

She sat back down and folded her arms around her body like she could hold herself together. 

The city lights blinked against the glass behind her. Her own reflection looked distant, someone older, someone carrying things she had no name for. She wanted to get up. She wanted to scream. She wanted the music to play without reminding her of skin and perfume and the way Azzi used to say her name when no one else could hear. 

Instead, she sank deeper into the couch and closed her eyes. 

- 

The room buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses, a hum of celebration weaving through the air like a living thing. Fairy lights hung overhead, casting soft glows across the faces of teammates and staff gathered to celebrate Coach Sandy’s birthday.  

Music pulsed gently from the speakers, filling every corner of the venue with a warm, vibrant energy. Voices rose and fell in waves of cheer, playful teasing, and heartfelt toasts. Plates clattered, glasses were raised, and the scent of fresh flowers mingled with the faint tang of champagne. 

Paige sat tucked away in the farthest corner of the room, her back pressed against the wall. The party’s noise surrounded her like a distant current, lively and full, yet somehow unreachable. Her legs curled beneath her, one foot tapping a restless rhythm against the hardwood floor. Her fingers moved mechanically over the screen of her phone, scrolling through a feed that blurred past in an endless stream of faces and moments that felt both real and impossibly far away. 

She wasn’t here. At least, not really. 

Her gaze was vacant, fixed on the small screen, seeking something she could grasp, something to fill the hollow ache that gnawed beneath her ribs. Then, suddenly, her thumb paused. The brightness of the screen sharpened as a new video appeared—Azzi’s name shining like a beacon at the top of the post. 

The world outside that corner faded further. The music, the laughter, the warmth of friendship all dissolved as the video played silently on her phone. Azzi moved with the kind of effortless grace that had once drawn Paige in completely, the kind of light that seemed almost unfair in its perfection. Her skin glowed under the studio lights, every movement smooth and deliberate, every glance a silent promise of something untouchable. 

Azzi’s eyes caught the camera, sparkling with confidence and charm. She smiled—a slow, knowing curve of lips that made her look invincible. The campaign’s polished sheen wrapped around her like armor, flawless and radiant, a stark contrast to the raw ache Paige felt coil tight inside her. 

Paige’s breath caught, the joy of the party unable to reach the hollow that spread with every frame of the video. Her fingers trembled against the cold surface of the phone as the room’s warmth pressed in from behind her, sharp and overwhelming in its contrast. She felt small, distant, a ghost in the midst of celebration. 

The image of Azzi was so vivid that it seemed to glow even after the video ended. Her chest tightened with a painful rhythm, the loneliness settling like a stone deep inside. While the world around her danced and smiled, Paige felt the weight of all the nights Azzi had been gone, all the silence stretching between them like an unbridgeable chasm. 

She locked the phone and lowered it onto her lap, hands curling into fists. The celebration pressed on around her, voices ringing with joy and connection, but inside, Paige sat trapped in a quiet solitude that music and laughter couldn’t reach. 

The contrast was impossible to ignore. Azzi’s life moved forward in gleaming bursts of light and acclaim. Paige’s world had shrunk into these quiet moments, marked by memories and shadows that refused to fade. The ache pressed into her ribs, steady and relentless, a reminder that even surrounded by people, she carried a loneliness no crowd could touch. 

Her eyes stung, but the tears held back stubbornly. She had learned to hold them in, to swallow the ache and keep moving. But tonight, with Azzi’s face still glowing softly on the screen, the weight of what was lost settled heavier than ever. 

Paige shifted against the wall and closed her eyes briefly, willing herself to breathe deeply. The party carried on, vibrant and alive, but she remained still, tethered to the quiet ache that hummed beneath her skin, wrapped in the ghost of a life she once believed could be hers. 

Paige barely looked up when a steady presence settled next to her. 

“Yo, Paige,” Tash said, her voice low but sharp like she always had something real to say. “You sitting here all quiet while the party’s poppin’ and there’s a whole vibe goin’ on around you.” 

Paige managed a small shrug, eyes glued to her phone screen. 

Tash glanced over Paige’s shoulder and smirked. “Girl, there’s this chick over there who’s been straight-up starin’ at you like you’re the whole damn show.” 

Paige lifted her gaze slowly toward the corner Tash pointed out. Sure enough, a girl stood awkward but steady, cheeks flushed like she was trying to muster the nerve to step forward. 

Tash shook her head with a half grin. “Listen, the team’s been watchin’. They know about the breakup. We all giving you space ‘cause we get it, but for real? This here?” She waved a hand at Paige’s quiet corner. “It’s gettin’ kinda unhealthy, girl. We see you killin’ it on the court, but off the court? You look like you’re fallin’ apart, piece by piece in the last three months.” 

Paige’s jaw tightened. She had felt that weight herself every damn day. 

Tash leaned in a bit, voice softer but still steady. “You deserve more than this lonely hustle. You deserve to breathe, to live, to maybe start fresh. Maybe start by just talkin’ to that girl. Ain’t gotta be nothing fancy, just a lil’ hello.” 

Paige cracked a reluctant smile, shaking her head just a little. “Sounds easier said than done.” 

Tash laughed, a rich, easy sound that filled the quiet space. “Yeah, it is. But I know you got it in you. You stronger than you let on.” 

Paige glanced back at the girl again—nervous, hopeful eyes catching hers. 

“Alright,” Paige said, voice soft but sure. “I’ll think about it.” 

Tash nodded, eyes shining with a mix of pride and encouragement.  

Paige took a slow breath and let it out. Maybe tonight, she thought, maybe she could try. 

- 

The café was small, tucked on the edge of a quiet street just outside Manhattan’s noise, the kind of place people passed without noticing unless they were looking for it. Paige liked that. It didn’t demand attention, didn’t try too hard.  

Inside, the windows let in warm streaks of late afternoon light, and the hum of low conversation gave it a kind of soft pulse, like a space that let you be who you were without explanation. 

Jenny had picked the place. The same girl from Coach Sandy’s party, the one Tash had pointed out with a nudge and a smirk. Paige had surprised herself by walking up to her that night. She didn’t remember much of what she said—just that Jenny smiled and listened, and for the first time in weeks, Paige hadn’t felt like she was stuck in place. 

Now Jenny sat across from her, legs crossed, an oversized sweater slipping slightly off one shoulder. Her hands curled around a latte cup, fingers painted in chipped green polish. She had a slight tilt to her grin that made it feel like every smile was half a dare. 

“Glad you made it,” Jenny said, resting her chin in one hand. “I was starting to think you were just being polite at the party.” 

Paige smiled faintly, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. “Thought about bailing. But then I figured if I don’t start showing up for things, I’ll just keep going in circles.” 

Jenny raised a brow. “Deep for a coffee meetup.” 

Paige laughed quietly. “Guess I’m trying to sound less emotionally unstable.” 

Jenny smirked. “You’re doing okay so far.” 

There was an ease to her voice, a comfort that didn’t press too hard. Paige let the conversation drift, the weight in her chest softening just slightly. She hadn’t done this in months—just sat with someone new, no pressure, no headlines, no expectations.  

She glanced out the window, the street catching the late gold of a slow sunset, and turned back with a breath that felt lighter than the one before. 

“It’s refreshing,” Paige said. “This whole thing. I haven’t done anything like this in the last three months.” 

Jenny’s teasing softened. “Bad breakup?” 

“Something like that.” Paige breathed out the word. It felt easier than she thought it would. 

Jenny didn’t press. She just sipped her coffee and gave Paige the space to continue if she wanted it. 

“I thought I could outrun the part of me that still misses her,” Paige said after a pause. “Turns out, I’ve just been running in circles.” 

Jenny’s fork scraped across her plate. The tip of her chocolate cake toppled forward, slow motion in real time, until the icing smudged right onto her shirt. She looked down with exaggerated dread. 

“Shit,” she muttered. 

Paige laughed under her breath. “I got it. Napkins.” 

She stood quickly, grateful for the small task. Moving felt better than sitting still with too many thoughts. She crossed toward the counter, stepping around a stroller and a couple debating over muffins. Her hand reached for the napkin dispenser when a familiar scent pulled her still. Warm citrus. Something soft and floral. Her stomach tightened instantly. 

She turned before she could think twice. 

Azzi stood less than three feet away, her profile dipped slightly as she spoke into her phone.  

Her coat was dark, elegant, cinched neatly at the waist. Sunglasses hung from her collar. The soft shine of her lip gloss caught the light when she smiled mid-conversation, a smile that struck Paige harder than it had any right to. 

Then came a quiet giggle. Light, effortless. It slipped past Azzi’s lips like nothing in the world was weighing on her. That sound had once been Paige’s favorite thing. Hearing it again felt like standing in the middle of a memory she had been trying to bury. 

Her chest pulled tight. 

It was that smile. The one she used to wake up to, pressed lazy and half-asleep against her own lips. The one Azzi used to give after long flights and longer nights, when all Paige needed was a glance to feel like she was home. Now it belonged to someone else, shared through a screen Paige would never see. 

Time slipped. Her fingers stayed curled around the edge of the napkin holder, motionless, as if any sudden move would break whatever spell had caught her there. Azzi’s voice, even muffled by the noise of the café, slid under her skin like memory. Familiar and foreign all at once. 

She hadn’t prepared for this. Seeing Azzi in person felt like getting caught in a dream she hadn’t asked for. There was no time to brace, no warning to close the parts of herself still aching. 

Azzi turned, as if sensing her, and her eyes met Paige’s with a sudden, precise stillness. 

That moment held everything. The weight of a summer undone. The silence between texts that never came. The ache of what love looked like after it changed its shape. 

“Paige,” Azzi said, her voice softer than the room around them. 

Paige struggled to find her breath. Her name in Azzi’s mouth still sounded like it mattered. She hated that it did. 

“Hey,” she managed, voice catching somewhere between practiced calm and something else that still burned. 

Azzi’s eyes flickered to the phone still in her hand, then back to Paige. “I’ll call you back,” she murmured into the receiver, her tone gentle and composed.  

That composure hurt more than anything. There was no flicker of hesitation, no edge of sadness in her voice. Just ease. Like seeing Paige was fine. Like it hadn’t meant anything at all. 

“I was just grabbing coffee,” Azzi said, adjusting the strap of her purse slightly. 

Paige nodded. “Yeah. Cool.” 

A thin stretch of silence opened between them. It pulsed with the weight of things neither of them had said for weeks. 

“You look good,” Azzi offered, her voice light but uneven at the end. 

Paige gave a half smile, unsure if it reached her eyes. “Thanks. You too.” 

“How’ve you been?” Azzi asked, and the question landed softer than it should have. She didn’t look away, but her fingers fidgeted with her sleeve, twisting it at the cuff. 

Paige hesitated. She wanted to lie. She wanted to say great, amazing, better than ever. But the truth clung to the edges of her mouth. “Trying,” she said instead. 

Azzi’s expression flickered with something—regret, maybe, or just discomfort. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. 

Paige shook her head, not out of forgiveness, but because she couldn’t carry both of their feelings anymore. “It’s alright.” 

Another pause stretched between them. The kind that didn’t need to last long to feel unbearable. 

“I hope you have a great day,” Paige added, her voice softer now, almost kind. It was the only thing left to give. 

Azzi’s smile didn’t quite hold. Her eyes searched Paige’s face for a second longer than necessary, as if she wanted to say something else and couldn’t bring herself to do it. 

“You too,” she said, then turned toward the register. 

Paige stood still for a moment longer, her hands curling at her sides, then turned back toward the table—her fingers empty, her throat thick. 

Jenny glanced up as she approached, taking in Paige’s expression, the set of her jaw, the ache lingering just behind her eyes. 

“I saw the whole thing,” Jenny said gently. “You don’t have to explain anything. If you’re hurting and want to cut this short, I get it.” 

Paige lowered herself back into the chair, letting the warmth of the coffee soak into her palms. Her shoulders relaxed just slightly. 

“Thank you,” she said, voice soft but sincere. “And maybe one day, when I’m healed enough to sit across from someone without seeing her ghost everywhere... maybe then you’ll still be willing to extend a little friendship.” 

“I’ll be here.”  

And for the first time in months, Paige was looking forward to something. 

She sat there a moment longer, the taste of coffee still warm on her tongue, the ache in her chest softer but still present.  

Letting go wasn’t the same as forgetting. Forgetting erased, but letting go meant honoring what had been and deciding not to hold it so tightly anymore.  

She wasn’t ready for much. But maybe she could start there. 

[amsznn]

Please I’m begging u could you write Chris x reader when reader gets wisdom teeth out. Pet names only baby

WISDOM TEETH - c.sturniolo

-

“todays video is gonna be a bit different guys.” chris spoke into the camera before turning it to you, revealing you leaning on the kitchen counter. “y/n’s gonna get her wisdom teeth out!” your head quickly shifted towards the mention of ‘wisdom teeth’, unfortunately being reminded of what will be your reality in a matter of moments.

“chris stop, she’s literally fearing for her life right now.” nick said while laughing. “don’t worry y/n, its not that bad.” he said while patting your shoulder.

“i dont think i wanna go anymore.” you said quickly as you remembered how much pain nick was in while he was recovering.

“it’s gonna be alright baby, we’ll be right there.” chris reassures as he wrapped his shoulder around you, still holding the camera.

it took some convincing, and maybe some bribery from your boyfriend to get you food after the procedure, to finally convince you to get in the car and go through with getting your teeth pulled out. you had been in pain for a long time, complaining about the pain the teeth were causing you.

chris knew this and knew the best thing for you was to get them out. now you all were packed in the car with matt and chris in the front, while you and nick were in the back.

occasionally chris would reach behind his chair and allow you to hold his hand for some time. he knew as you were trying to appear calm and collected, your mind was actually racing.

but that feeling would only intensify as matt pulled into the parking lot of the dentist office. you did all the regulations upon entering the building, signing in, and waiting.

before you knew it you were in the chair, about to get those teeth pulled out.

“promise, you’ll stay?” you turned over to chris, watching him with pleading eyes as he grasped your hand in his.

“promise.”

timeskip

a couple of hours passed and you were finally off of the operating table. drowsy and unaware of where you were.

“where..where am i?” you spoke. you realized there was a strange feeling in your mouth. “waths in my mouf?!” you quickly tried to take out whatever it was from your mouth before chris stopped you.

“y/n, you need those in there baby.”

confusion took over for the rest of the day as your boyfriend completed the rest of the paper work and walked you out to the car where matt and nick were waiting.

“sooo..how’d it go?” nick asked amused as he saw your state. “nick, sit in the front i wanna sit with y/n.” chris said as he opened your side of the car door. you almost face planted as you got in but nick was quick to balance you before moving to the front seat.

chris didn’t feel like filming on the way back home since he’s sure you would kill him if he ever uploaded a video of you in this state. blabbering on and on about nothing that made sense while also questioning everything and anything.

“chrissy…why are there three of you.” you pouted before poking your boyfriend’s face, the reaching to poke matt and nick’s face as well. matt swatted your hand away and scolded you since he’s driving.

“why are you yelling at me?” you frowned at matt who you thought was chris before saying, “im breaking up with you!”

chris could only laugh at your antics causing his brothers to join in as well.

“y/n that’s matt.” he softly said while caressing your shoulder.

you made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth in realization, and muttered and apology to matt for threatening him.

you all made it back home, with chris carrying you to your shared room. as soon as he set you down on the bed it was lights out for you. immediately falling asleep in your boyfriend’s bed. he smiled as he moved his face in front of yours, softly giving you a kiss on the forehead, trying not to wake you up.

“i love you, y/n.” chris whispered, to which he got a snore in response. but thats all he needed. he knew you loved him just as much.

-

a/n: sorry i didnt know how to end it but i hope you enjoyed!

[kyupidu]

Hello!!! Can I have a yandere twisted Astro mayhaps?? :0 or just twisted Astro if youre more comfortable, headcanon or oneshot, its up to you!! Either way thank you and I hope u have a nice day/night :)

● Forever in his arms.

Yandere!Astro x toon!reader

Warnings: Yandere, Asphyxiation, Delusions, forced affection, astro is abit mean in the first half

Notes: This is my first yandere fic it might not be the best sorry! but i hope you enjoy reading! also i couldnt get the images to work so i just didnt add them..

A smile would grace your face as you finished your fourth machine, two more to go! This was your last floor till you were able to finally go back up. You snickered abit at the thought of being able to brag about how to gotten to such a high floor all by yourself AND finally being able to sleep.

Venturing off to find your second to last machine, noticing a twisted Cosmo approaching you quickly hid behind two boxes and a shelf. Sitting there for abit you peeked to see if Cosmo was gone. This caused you to fail to notice a certain sleepy twisted approaching you.

Closing your eyes and sighing thinking that the coast is clear, you twirled around just to be grabbed by the throat at slammed against the wall. Your head would hurt as you writhed trying to escape its grasp though Astro being the stronger one was unphased by your attempts.

Thrashing and kicking and yelling you grasped the hand around your neck and pulled on it hoping his grip would lighten. Your panic filled eyes would meet tearful ones, recognizing them. tears gathered in your eyes you choked out "S-Stop! Stop Astro!" you pleaded so fearful you forgot that this wasn't your friend.

Hearing this put a thought in his ichor fogged head making him remember.. something. Although he could slightly remember it. You had stopped him with a worried look in your face , although he couldn't remember anymore than that. What he did know is remembering it made him feel.. something.

He felt warm.. warm like... a hug.. -wait a hug? This thought caused a picture to finally resurface, of you hugging him. This made his hand loosen and fall to his side. You fell to the ground and scrambled to catch your breath.

As your breathing somewhat calmed you quickly got up and ran. This would cause him to come back to his senses. No.. you couldn't leave.. he loved you so much.. he yearned for you to hug him again.. he yearned.. for you, he would make sure you NEVER left. As you ran trying to find a place to hide still trying to catch your breath you failed to notice you were running toward a research capsule.

As you approached it you finally noticed it, you were too late and tripped over it. Falling to the ground, before you could even try to get back up four arms picked you up rendering you helpless. Struggling in his hold trying to get out as he turned you toward himself. You looked at him sobbing thinking that you'd never see your friends again. To him you always looked so beautiful even when your crying like this.

You looked cute crying, but he was sure you'd look even better with a grin. Using on of his hands pat your head and the other to cup your cheek and wipe away your tears. It felt so good to be in your embrace once more.

You slowly stopped trying to get out realizing that wasn't gonna work. "It's okay.. everything's okay now.." he said bringing you closer to him. It was good you stopped trying, it was always gonna be useless. No matter how much you ran he would always catch you. He hoped this meant you loved him too. You would forever be in his arms.

[blackleatherjacketz]

All Better

Eric Northman x Female Reader

Summary: You miss a meeting because you're sick, and Eric makes a house call to make you feel better.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Eric being Eric, Strep Throat, Antibiotics, Shoving, Blaming, Kissing, Glamoring, Hypnotizing, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Healing Vampire Blood, Blood Drinking, Biting, Vampirism, Nipple Play, Licking, Cunnilingus, Female Orgasm

Read more Eric!

“You don’t look very good.” Eric states the obvious as his brows knit together in a look of, wait a minute, is that… concern that you’re seeing on his face? It must be the medication you’re on that’s blurring your vision and dulling your senses, because you’re pretty sure that ‘concern’ isn’t in Eric Northman’s emotional repertoire. “What’s wrong with you?”

It isn’t until he pushes you up against the wall, staring at your pale face as beads of sweat run down your temples that he understands why you didn’t show up to Fangtasia tonight or bother answering your phone when he called. The realization of your illness slowly melts that concerned look of his into a stoic expression of understanding, allowing his pupils to expand just the slightest bit before his lips part in silence.

“I’m just sick, it’s nothing.” You try to look away from him, tempted to fall back into your old habit of isolating yourself when falling ill, only he grabs hold of your chin to prevent that from happening.

“Sick, how?” That sense of understanding gets washed away in a flash, his brief display of genuine emotion quickly covered up by his usual curt and cutting tone.

“It’s just an infection, I know I should have called, I just didn’t think you’d…”

“Didn’t think I’d what?” He tightens his grip on your chin, bringing his face closer to yours. “Didn’t think I’d notice that my favorite human wasn’t there to greet me tonight?”

Favorite human? Did you hear that right? You can’t help but raise your eyebrows in surprise as he admits it out loud, albeit through gritted teeth.

“I was too weak to drive out there, I…” You mutter as his cool grip on your face chills you even more, forcing your body to shiver in its febrile state.

“Then let me heal you.” He offers, his eyes scanning over your shaking form before he brings his wrist up to his mouth.

“What?” Your arrangement with Eric has always been very simple; you show up once a week to let him feed on you and he pays you enough money to cover your mortgage each month. It had never been more than that though, never crossed any other carnal line despite your secret desire for more intimacy with him. He had never once offered you his own blood before, and the idea of it still kind of scares you, if you’re being honest with yourself. “Heal me?”

“So you won’t be sick anymore.” He loosens his grip on your face, his hand falling loosely around your neck.

“I’m on antibiotics, Eric, I don’t need your blood.” You attempt to walk away from him but he places his palm flat across your chest, forcing you back into position against the wall. Even his restrained amount of strength is too much for your weakened muscles to withstand as you wince in pain.

“Let me heal you.” He stares into your eyes, accessing your subconscious mind as you can’t help but stare right back, too tired to put up any sort of emotional barrier between the two of you. You’ve seen him do this to others before, convincing them to do whatever he wanted, whether that be to pay him back, run away or even kill someone for him. You just never thought he’d do it to you.

“Okay,” You hear yourself whisper almost immediately before taking his hand and leading him to the couch at the far end of your living room. You watch him sit down as if he’s already been there dozens of times before, as if he’s lived there with you already, as if he owns the place. You feel him pull you onto his lap, guiding your hips and thighs so that you’re now straddling him in the middle of your couch as his hands carefully smooth their way up your back.

“You’re shivering.” He grins as you settle into him, your pelvis slowly rocking against his hips as his hands find their way into your hair. “I can fix that.”

“Yeah?” As scary as the idea of drinking his blood is, the thought of letting this feverish hell continue any longer seems way worse.

“Let me take care of you.” Eric fumbles through the random items on the side table closest to him until he finds something sharp at his disposal: a ball point pen. He pushes the cap off with his thumb, smiles up at you before jabbing the pen into his neck so quickly, you barely have a chance to register what’s happening before he pulls you in closer. “Now, drink.”

You gasp as your heart races in a confused sense of horror, watching droplets of his blood ooze out of his wound and down the porcelain skin of his neck. Your lips begin to tremble as his fingers weave their way into your hair, pushing your mouth in closer to his throat as you attempt to fight your body’s natural panic response.

“Drink.” He instructs again, only this time more sternly.

Having no other choice but to do as you’re told, you open your mouth and lick the droplets of blood from his neck as he continues to hold you in place. It tastes a little better than you thought it would, a sort of salty mixture with hints of iron and blackberry wine that leaves a surprisingly pleasant aftertaste on the back of your tongue. Kind of like a rich Cabernet.

Well, that’s not so bad, now is it?

You open up again and start down at his clavicle this time, making sure to clean up any remnants of the fluid until you get all the way up to the puncture site, greedily suckling straight from the source. You can hear him moan as you lap him up, feel his grip on your hair tighten as you consume him, getting lost in the closeness of your bodies and the binding of your fluids. You’re sure that he can hear your heart beating wildly inside your chest, thumping hard against his as you wrap your arms around his torso to get even closer to him. You can feel his blood working inside you, healing you on a cellular level; each vampiric red blood cell eradicating any bacteria into oblivion as the weakness leaves your muscles and the pain dissipates from your throat.

“Enough,” he whispers reluctantly, now having to pull your mouth off him. “That’s enough, sweetheart.”

His words barely bring you out of your trance, his salty flesh no longer beneath your tongue as he tugs on your scalp to get you to finally stop drinking. It’s almost as if you’ve been brought back to reality after having one of the most intense dreams you’ve ever had as you watch his wound heal just as quickly as he had made it. You’ll never get used to that.

“It worked.” You exclaim gratefully. “I feel better!”

“I told you.” Eric grins as he runs his thumb across your bottom lip, reminding you that you’ve made quite the mess of yourself. “This is why you have to let me take care of you.”

“I’m not very good at that.” You’ve always had to take care of yourself in the past. One lesson that life has taught you time and time again is that the second you start depending on someone is the very moment that you’ll be disappointed.

“I know, but you have to let me do it anyway.” His eyelids drop halfway down as he looks at you longingly, gazing upon you in a way that you’ve never noticed before.

Maybe it’s that look, or maybe it’s the high of his blood now coursing through your veins that makes you suddenly feel compelled to press your lips against his, letting that vampiric confidence guide your actions. You keep them there for a few seconds, realizing that he isn’t pulling away from you, but instead is kissing you back with just as much enthusiasm as he pulls tighter on your scalp.

You’ve always wanted to kiss him, from the very first moment that you saw him. But something about him told you that he had women throwing themselves at his feet left and right; and you didn’t want to be like one of them. You were just grateful for the little contact you got when he fed upon you each week. You relished every caress of your cheek, every squeeze of your waist that sent shivers down your spine before he ended up drinking his fill. You never thought that he’d be interested in you like this, that he’d actually want you in that type of way at all.

However, his tongue now parts your lips as his kiss intensifies, all but moaning the truth into your mouth as if he’s been waiting just as long to finally taste your lips. His kiss is desperate and sloppy, so different from the perfectly put together business man you first met that night at the bar. His composure casually crumbles to pieces as his hands travel all over your body, frantically grasping onto your muscles until they find themselves in your hair again, his lips curling into a deviously satisfied smirk.

You feel him grow beneath his jeans, his clothed member now brushing against the thin fabric of your underwear as his hips needily writhe against your junction. His deliberate movements trigger that moisture to collect between your thighs as he continues his rhythm upward with several shallow breaths. Now stained in his own blood, his mouth ventures over every inch of your lips and chin before moving down to your jawline, licking a trail alongside your pulse.

You whimper in response, grinding your needy center against him as you brace yourself for the bite that never comes. Instead he lifts your shirt up over your head, exposing your bare breasts to the cool temperature of the room as your nipples harden in front of his face.

“You’ve been holding out on me.” He teases, letting go of the rest of you so he can graze his palms across them, sending a much more intense tingling sensation down your spine.

“I didn’t know that you wanted to…” Your breath hitches as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard before wrapping his arms behind you and turning you on your back. He keeps contact with your skin the entire time, pulling on your sensitive tissue as he looks up at you with those eyes again, dragging your tender bud in between his teeth.

“Really?” He laughs with a smirk. He moves on to the next one before popping it into his mouth while pinching the other, sending a barrage of little fireworks into your skin. “You think I make feeding contracts lightly?”

“No, I uhh…” Your back arches toward the ceiling as he sucks bursts of delight into your tissues, humming a sweet vibration against your skin as you all but melt beneath him. Pleasure being the last sensation you expect to get from Eric’s mouth, you can’t help but feel a little breathless as his fingers simultaneously tug your underwear down your hips as they instinctively lift off the couch cushion to aid in their removal. “It’s hard for me to tell sometimes.”

“You thought I didn’t want you?” He licks a languid path down your quaking abdomen as your muscles contract in hurried anticipation, beads of sweat popping up in his wake. He circles around your navel with his tongue, kissing a hungry trail down your pelvis while his hands help slide your panties off your calves and feet. He smiles and spreads your thighs as far apart as they can go, straining your muscles as he stares at you like a jungle cat would its prey before it pounces. “Looks like I could be a better communicator.”

His fangs drop and his eyes darken, wasting no time in settling between your thighs to take the bite you were wondering would ever come at all. Instead of sinking his fangs into your femoral artery to get the most blood in the least amount of time, though, he bites you just above your swollen center. He laughs as you yelp from the piercing pain, letting that red hot fluid spill down your already dripping wet seam before he dives in to finally taste it.

That cold, blood-thirsty vampire that you’ve known for the past few weeks finally comes out as he starts licking streaks of crimson up and down your puffy lips, spreading the blood and gore into your folds as his tongue delivers that tantalizing balance of pain and pleasure that you’ve only read about in books. He growls like the creature of the night that he is as he devours you, snaking his arms beneath your thighs to pull you in even closer as his mouth delves into your flesh. Unable to be sated, he flicks his tongue up and down your sensitive clit, sending signals of ecstasy up through your spine and into your brain as your eyes flutter with visions of shapes and colors you never knew existed.

Maybe it’s the vampire blood pumping through your veins for the very first time, or maybe it’s Eric’s skilled mouth that forces your eyes to roll back into your head. The way he keeps eating and drinking makes it feel as if each and every tiny hair on your skin is now alive, standing on end waiting for him to touch them, to give them permission to explode until your entire body begins to shake. You reach out for him in vain as the otherworldly sense of euphoria washes over you, forcing every muscle in your body to convulse in rhythmic waves as he relentlessly drinks from your bloody cunt. He glances up at you only to grin as your skin changes color, warming and cooling in phases as your orgasm violently works its way through your skin and bones and finally out of your mouth.

“Eric!” You cry out as he finally pulls back from you, licking his lips as you rattle and hum in the crimson mess he’s made of you. “Oh my God, Eric!”

“See?” He smirks as he watches you come down from your hormonal high, running your hands through his hair as he finally gives your bloody center one last lick. “All better.”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Some sort of hive mind thing

Written for the Kissing Booth bonus card of the @steddiebingo

Prompt: Body Swap

Rated: T

Words: 975

Tags: POV Dustin Henderson; Body swap; Secret relationship; Coming out; Implied sexual content (very brief, very vague); Crack and humor

“Okay, the others are on their way.” 

Dustin puts the walkie back on his bedside table. The alarm clock tells him it's a little after four in the morning. When he tries to tug on his hat to ground himself, he realizes he isn't wearing one because he's still in his pajamas. Biting back a yawn, he snatches his Thinking Cap from its hook on the wall and puts it on. He feels like he's going to need it. 

“While we wait, walk me through this again,” he says, turning back to the two miserable figures sitting side by side on his bed. “Steve?” 

“Yeah?” says Eddie. 

Dustin blinks. He can practically feel his brain whirring in his skull as it recalibrates. Sweet mother of all that's logical, this must be the fourth-most bizarre thing that ever happened to him. 

“Oh, wait,” says Steve. “If you say Steve shouldn’t I answer? Wouldn't want half the town to find out about this. I've barely even shaken the satanist allegations. Better not add body snatching to the list.” 

“The fuck?” Eddie hisses. “First you steal my body and now you're taking my name, too?” 

Steve grins, wide and toothy, fluttering his lashes exaggeratedly. “Let's table the discussion about who's taking whose name for later, big boy. We've more important stuff to figure out right now.” 

Okay, make that the third-most bizarre thing. 

“You both went to bed as usual,” Dustin says over the ensuing string of bickering, wondering not for the first time who's babysitting who here. “Then, a few hours later, you woke up to discover that you're stuck in each other's bodies.” 

Eddie-who-looks-like-Steve snorts a laugh and Steve-who-looks-like-Eddie elbows him.

“Quit it! Be serious about this!” 

“I’m trying to, but he said stuck in-” 

“Did anything happen last night?” Dustin asks. 

They both flinch. Eddie attempts to pull a lock of hair in front of his face but grasps at thin air. 

“Did anything- … I have no idea what you- … Nothing happened! Nothing at all!”

Dustin raises an eyebrow at him. Eddie starts chewing on Steve’s knuckles.

“Really? You sure? Nothing strange or out of the ordinary? I need you to think real hard about this, it could be important.” 

Steve shrugs, raking a hand through Eddie’s hair and frowning when his fingers get stuck in the frizzy mess. “Dunno, man. Our life's pretty much an endless string of freak incidents, so it's kind of hard to say what qualifies as- Gross, dude, stop chewing on my nails.” 

“It helps with my anxiety, and you have mine,” Eddie grumbles, but he still stops chewing. 

“Which is why it's crucial,” Dustin shoulders on, “to look for patterns. There must've been something that caused this, and there must be a reason why it happened to the two of you. Oh, you think it has to do with the bats? You're the only ones who got bitten, so maybe that's the connection. Maybe it's some sort of hive mind thing.” 

He has started pacing up and down in front of the bed, but at the corner of his vision, he can see how Steve squints Eddie’s dark brown eyes at him. 

“But that was months ago,” he says. He’s still wearing Eddie’s rings, Dustin notices. Eddie has pulled their hands into his lap and started fiddling with them, muttering something about how they won't fit Steve’s stupid, giant saucer hands. “Why would it happen now?” 

Dustin snaps his fingers. “Something must've triggered it. There must've been some kind of dormant connection the entire time, and one or both of you must've done something to activate it.” 

He stops pacing and turns to them, only to find they’re not looking at him anymore. Instead, they’ve ducked their heads together and started muttering among themselves in hushed voices. Dustin catches the words oughta tell him, and wrinkles his brow. 

“Tell me what?”

“Okay!” Steve screws Eddie’s eyes shut and pinches Eddie’s nose. “You know how you asked me to drive you to the arcade last night?”

“And you told me no because you had this big, important date?” Dustin rolls his eyes. “Sure. What about it?”

“And how you called me after?” Eddie says. He has started pulling on the ends of Steve’s hair now, and it seems to be getting frizzier by the second. It looks a bit like regular Steve put his fingers in a socket. “And I said I’d love to chauffeur you, but I couldn’t because I had already made plans?”

“Yes,” Dustin deadpans. “You were both completely and utterly unhelpful and I had to cycle all the way there in the dark and the wind, thank you for reminding me. Now what does this have to do with any-”

“Dustin,” says Steve. He looks at Eddie, then down at their entwined hands. Pointedly. Dustin feels his jaw drop. 

“Oh,” he says. “You mean you were- … You both couldn’t make it because you were each other’s- … Oh! Oh my God, please don’t tell me- … Were you two making out?” 

Silence drops. Somewhere outside, bicycle tires crunch on gravel, heralding the arrival of the Party. 

“Sure,” says Eddie. “Let’s call it making out.”

Dustin groans, turning to open his window. 

“Let’s try to keep this between the three of us,” he hisses. “The others don’t need to know this.”

“What?” Steve grumbles. He’s always blushed easily, but now, with his newly acquired pale complexion, he looks like an Eddie-shaped lava lamp. “These kids have dealt with interdimensional monsters and telepathic wizards, you’d think they’d be able to stomach two guys kissing.”

“That’s not it,” Dustin says, and now it’s his turn to break into a smug grin. “But Max bet me twenty bucks you wouldn’t last until Christmas, and I'm broke, so I'd appreciate it if she wouldn't find out just yet.” 

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