#afternoons with the blinds drawn

[tsumuus]

when he sees me

katsuki bakugou x reader, blind date, first date, fluff, ooc?, based on this drabble, probably my longest written fic(around 2300-2400 words, but like thats a lot for me😭)

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You’ve never considered yourself the romantic type.

Not for lack of curiosity, but because the idea of romance felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. Sure, the view was breathtaking, but one wrong move and you’d plummet into the unknown. Relationships demanded too much- a risk of losing control, of exposing parts of yourself no one else had seen, only to have it thrown back in your face.

That’s why, despite Mina’s relentless campaigning to set you up with her “perfect guy,” you resisted.

“C’mon, he’s not like other guys,” she insisted one afternoon, her golden eyes sparkling with determination.

You sighed, stirring your coffee absentmindedly. “Mina, you’ve said that about all of your friends. And let’s not forget how the last one ended up being obsessed with his ex.”

Mina laughed. “Okay, fair, but this guy is different. He’s… grounded. Straightforward. No games, no fluff. I think you’d actually like him.”

“You’ve said that before too,” you teased.

Her pout was almost convincing. Almost. “Just trust me. One date. If it’s horrible, I’ll never bring it up again. Deal?”

You hesitated, weighing the risk of one awkward evening against weeks of Mina’s pestering. Reluctantly, you gave in. “Fine. One date.”

The restaurant was warm and inviting, its soft lighting casting a cozy glow over the wooden tables and shelves lined with potted plants. Mina had texted you the details earlier: 7 PM, party for two, under your name. She’d been oddly tight-lipped about who your date was, insisting she wanted it to be a surprise.

You were still skeptical, but a small part of you was curious. Maybe Mina was right this time. Maybe.

You arrived a few minutes early, hoping to gather your thoughts before meeting your mystery date. The host greeted you with a polite smile and led you to a small table near the window.

“Your party hasn’t arrived yet,” they said, pulling out your chair.

“Thank you,” you replied, sitting down and scanning the menu.

Minutes ticked by. You started to wonder if you’d been stood up when the door opened, and a blond man walked in, his sharp crimson eyes scanning the room.

You froze.

Even from across the restaurant, you recognized him. Katsuki Bakugou, pro hero and household name, exuded an aura that was impossible to ignore. He wasn’t wearing his hero costume, but the fitted black sweater and dark jeans were somehow just as striking.

Your heart sank. There’s no way he’s here for me.

But then his gaze landed on you, and he started walking over.

“You’re the blind date?” he asked, stopping in front of your table.

You blinked up at him, stunned. “You’re…”

“Katsuki,” he said, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down. “Guess we’re both surprised.”

It took you a moment to recover. Of all the people Mina could have set you up with, this was the guy she’d chosen? Pro hero, explosive temper, and notorious for being brutally honest? It didn’t make sense.

“Uh, yeah,” you finally managed. “Nice to meet you.”

He gave a small nod, studying you with an intensity that made you shift in your seat.

The first few minutes were… awkward. He wasn’t exactly a conversationalist, and you weren’t sure how to navigate the situation. But as the evening went on, you began to notice things you hadn’t expected.

For one, he wasn’t as intimidating as you’d imagined. Sure, his words were blunt, but there was a surprising warmth behind them. He listened when you spoke, his attention unwavering. And when he talked about his work, there was a passion in his voice that made it impossible not to be drawn in.

“So, you’re friends with Mina?” he asked at one point, breaking the silence that had settled between you.

“Yeah. We’ve been friends since middle school,” you said. “She’s been trying to set me up for years. Guess she finally got her way.”

He snorted. “Sounds like her.”

You smiled, relaxing slightly. “What about you? How did she convince you to do this?”

“Didn’t take much,” he admitted. “She said you weren’t annoying, so I figured it was worth a shot.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “High praise.”

“It is,” he said, smirking.

Despite yourself, you laughed. The more you talked, the more you realized that he wasn’t what you’d expected. Beneath the sharp edges and fiery reputation was someone who was honest, genuine, and… kind. In his own way.

When the night ended, he walked you to your car. The cool evening air was a welcome contrast to the warmth of the restaurant, and you found yourself wishing the night could last just a little longer.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Didn’t think I’d like this whole blind date thing, but… you’re not bad.”

A small laugh escaped you. “You’re not bad yourself.”

His lips quirked in the faintest of smirks. “See ya around?”

For a moment, you hesitated, the weight of your fears pressing down on you. But then you met his gaze- steady, genuine- and you felt something shift.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “See you around.”

That night, as you lay in bed replaying the evening in your mind, you realized something strange: you weren’t overthinking it. You weren’t second-guessing every word or analyzing every gesture. Instead, you felt… calm.

For the first time, the idea of letting someone in didn’t feel like a leap off a cliff.

It felt like the beginning of something you didn’t want to lose.

You didn’t expect him to call.

Even though the night had gone surprisingly well, you told yourself not to get your hopes up. He was a pro hero, after all- someone whose life moved at a pace so fast it felt impossible to keep up. People like him didn’t have time for something as fragile and delicate as a budding relationship.

Still, the memory of his smirk lingered, sharp and vivid in your mind. The way his crimson eyes had softened ever so slightly when he teased you- so subtle you wondered if you’d imagined it- made it impossible not to replay the evening over and over.

Three days passed. You told yourself to move on, to not dwell on what was probably just a casual dinner for him. That is, until your phone buzzed with a text.

Katsuki: Hey. You free for dinner this week?

The message was so short, so him, that it took you a moment to process it. Your heart stuttered, and you stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity. Was this real? A small, incredulous laugh bubbled out of you. You couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through your chest.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Should you reply right away? Wait a few minutes? Was it too eager to answer so quickly?

Finally, with a shaky breath, you typed back:

You: Yeah, I think I could be convinced. When were you thinking?

The pause before his next reply felt like forever, but when it came, it was so straightforward you had to smile.

Katsuki: Friday. 7. Same place.

Simple. Confident. And as you stared at the message, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

The first couple of dinners were... awkward, to say the least.

It wasn’t that Katsuki made you uncomfortable- far from it. But there was something about the way he carried himself, the unwavering intensity in his gaze, that made you hyperaware of every word you spoke. He wasn’t a conversationalist, either. The silences between you felt heavier than they needed to, filled with the unspoken tension of two people trying to figure each other out.

He wasn’t oblivious to it. One evening, while you sat across from him in a cozy, dimly lit restaurant, your fork hovering over your plate, he tilted his head and raised a brow.

“You gonna stop acting like you’re walkin’ on eggshells around me, or do I need to pry it out of you?” he asked bluntly, his tone laced with teasing, though his crimson eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

Your fork clinked softly against the plate as you set it down, caught off guard. “I’m not walking on eggshells,” you retorted, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you.

His lips quirked in a knowing smirk. “Yeah, you are.” He leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. “Just say whatever’s on your mind. I’m not gonna bite.”

There was something disarming about the way he said it- gruff but sincere. His words loosened something inside you, and before you realized it, you were laughing, the tension in your shoulders melting away. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

“Don’t see the point,” he said with a shrug, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “It’s more fun when people are just themselves. So, quit overthinkin’ and just talk to me.”

It was easier said than done, but something about the way he said it- direct, no room for doubt- made you want to try. And so you did. Hesitantly at first, testing the waters with little anecdotes and random thoughts. But as the night went on, the words flowed more freely. You told him about your day, about things that annoyed you, things that made you laugh. And Katsuki listened.

Really listened.

He didn’t interrupt or interject with meaningless comments. He just let you talk, his eyes steady on yours, nodding here and there or throwing in a dry remark that made you laugh despite yourself. By the time the check came, the air between you felt lighter, less strained.

When he walked you to your door that night, hands shoved into his pockets and that familiar scowl softening just a fraction, you realized you were looking forward to the next time you’d see him.

Things between you shifted after that. Slowly, in small, subtle ways. Dinners turned into late-night conversations that carried over into texts throughout the week. Katsuki wasn’t the type to blow up your phone with messages, but when he did text, it was always something meaningful- or hilarious, though he’d never admit he was funny on purpose.

One night, he called out of the blue.

“Look outside,” he said gruffly, not even bothering with a greeting.

Confused, you walked to the window. Sure enough, there he was, standing on the sidewalk with a bag slung over one shoulder, his free hand holding up his phone.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, laughing as you opened the door and stepped outside to meet him.

“Thought you could use a break,” he said, holding up the bag. “Brought food. Don’t argue, just eat.”

It was simple, thoughtful gestures like that- the way he remembered little things you said, like your favorite snack or how you liked your coffee- that caught you off guard. He wasn’t trying to impress you; he was just... himself. Honest, genuine, and surprisingly caring in ways he’d never admit aloud.

The night it all came to a head was unplanned, much like the way your relationship had unfolded. You’d been feeling restless all day, the kind of itch beneath your skin that no amount of pacing or distractions could soothe. Katsuki must have noticed when he stopped by after work, because instead of sitting down like usual, he grabbed your hand.

“C’mon,” he said simply, tugging you toward the door.

“Where are we going?” you asked, though you didn’t resist, letting him lead you out into the cool night air.

“You’ll see.”

He didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t push, curious despite yourself. He walked with purpose, his hand warm and solid around yours, guiding you through streets you didn’t recognize until you reached a quiet rooftop overlooking the city. The view was breathtaking- glittering lights stretching out as far as the eye could see, the hum of distant traffic a soothing backdrop.

“Wow,” you breathed, stepping closer to the edge to take it all in.

Katsuki leaned against the railing, watching you instead of the view. “Thought you might like it,” he said after a moment, his voice softer than usual.

You glanced back at him, your chest tightening at the way he looked at you. “I do. It’s beautiful.”

He stayed quiet for a beat, his gaze dropping to the ground before meeting yours again. “You’ve been outta it lately,” he said, his tone careful. “Figured you needed to get outta your head for a bit.”

The words hit harder than you expected. You swallowed the lump in your throat, the weight of his attention- his care- making it hard to speak. “Thank you,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, though the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

The silence stretched, comfortable now, as you both watched the city lights. But something was shifting between you, unspoken but undeniable. You felt it in the way he stood closer than before, his shoulder brushing against yours. In the way his crimson eyes softened when they met yours.

“Katsuki,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “why do you... do all this? For me, I mean.”

He stiffened slightly but didn’t look away. “Why wouldn’t I?” he said, his tone defensive, like the answer was obvious. “You’re important to me.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Your breath caught, and before you could stop yourself, you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. He stared at your joined hands, his expression unreadable, before squeezing back.

“You’re important to me too,” you said softly, the words carrying more weight than you expected.

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by the glow of the city, something between you clicked. There were no fireworks, no dramatic declarations, but as Katsuki leaned in, his forehead brushing gently against yours, you realized you didn’t need them. This- his warmth, his presence- was more than enough.

[uncookedfeeler]

Citrus II🍋

Yuna x Reader

Tags : 7k, smut, incest, daddy kink,

Part 1

Five past eight in the morning, you arrive in front of your company, after having crossed a few blocks in the capital, at the automatic barrier, you wave to the guards to say hello and make your way to the underground car park, of course you have reserved your own space, not far from the lift, the privilege of having an important place in the company, you say to yourself; once the car has stopped, your bag in hand, you walk at a brisk pace to the lift and press the button for your floor.

Your impatience and shame are growing, you're late, which is far from your usual routine, especially when your president is probably waiting for you in your office. The reason for your lateness is even more shameful, but you're determined to put these thoughts aside during the working day.

Once you are on your floor, you pass through a second glass door, which you open with your badge. In the corner is the office of your secretary, who stands up to greet you and to warn you that the CEO is already in your office, just as you had expected.

"Hello Mrs Kang, and thank you, how long has he been here?"

"Not long, he arrived 5 minutes ago, he seems to be smiling, I think you'll be fine," she replies with a nervous smile, "would you like me to make some coffees and bring them to you?"

"No need, I'll do it myself, otherwise nothing else for the rest of the day? "

"There's a lot of paperwork to do today after the president leaves, your meetings don't start until this afternoon". You give her a thumbs up before putting your hands on the latch of your door. 

Your office was a modern space filled with clean lines and muted tones. A large executive desk dominated the room; behind it, tall windows filtered soft daylight through half-drawn blinds, while recessed lights softly illuminated the dark wood cabinets lining the back wall. In the corner, a pair of white armchairs and a sofa were accented by a single red cushion.

Across from you is your chairman, a middle-aged man with short grey hair and a warm smile. His face has visible wrinkles, particularly around the eyes, suggesting a friendly mood. He is wearing a formal dark suit and tie.

“I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr Ahn,” you say, bowing 90° to him.

"Ha ha, hello director, there's no need to be so formal, just get up and sit down,”he says, pointing with both hands to the seat in front of him. 

“Thank you, would you like a coffee while I'm up?”

“A short one then, my wife says I drink too much.”

You walk over to your desk and behind your chair is a piece of furniture that runs the full height of the wall, on top of which are various decorations, including your personal coffee machine.

“They all say that, but a good machine needs its fuel to work properly, doesn't it?”

“Absolutely.”

A few minutes pass as you place your respective coffees on the table between you, warning him that they are still very hot.

“I heard about the new contracts with JYP, good work Director Shin, I imagine it must have taken a lot of negotiation, they're notoriously difficult to do business with.”

“You could say that, it's not the first time they've worked with a cosmetics company like us, and it seems that their previous partnerships haven't been very successful, but with the work of the whole team, I think we've convinced them to count on us.”

“We still don't know the names of the models who will be wearing our products? if they match our latest collections well, I think it would be a great boost to our sales.”

“No information on that, the TWICE girls would be perfect, they embody the mid-twenties woman and seem to have finally lost their all-cute and pink ribbon image.”

As you finish your sentence, you see the chairman smiling after taking a sip of his coffee.

"Really good coffee, and why not ITZY, I'm sure they could certainly manage it too", the President smiles obviously as he mentions the group to which your daughter belongs.

"Yes, I'm sure", you reply with a touch of humour, the President knows very well who your daughter is and the joke shows how close you are to him.

"By the way, how is your daughter, she's appearing all over the country, she really seems to be riding on her popularity, you must be very proud of her".

"Sure, I try to keep up with her, although it's not as easy as it sounds, I imagine she'd be surprised to model for our company, I doubt she knows where I work or my position," you say with regret in your voice.

"Raising a daughter is not easy, I'll give you that, my older daughter... "Before he can finish, your phone rings to tell you that you've received a message with an attachment.

"When we were talking about the wolf, she sent me a message, sorry, go on, sir," you say, trying to get the conversation going again.

"Take your time, it's important to maintain a relationship with your children, especially when they've left home," he replies, leaning back on the sofa to take a step back.

After unlocking your phone, you click on the notification to open Yuna's message, which contains a link to a video and the message "how to grow my lemons", the link takes you to the streaming site Yuna uses and a replay starts :

"I've talked about this before, but the other day I took two lemons home to my parents that I've been growing for a long time, I'm not very good at it, so I asked my dad for help, he worked hard on them yesterday, you should have seen him, he played with them first and then he watered them generously, I think he's learning as much as I am, so I looked up on the internet how to grow them properly:

- First you need to stir the soil well with your fingers or a tool, then you need to push the seeds in deeply until they reach the end, then you need to water the soil regularly with love to increase the chances of getting a big lemon.

My two lemons have already grown well, so I'm wondering if I shouldn't put in a new seed to make a third, much bigger than the others," she said as she finished her explanation, stroking her stomach several times each time the word seed was mentioned.

Your promise to keep your impure thoughts out of your workplace, but Yuna's provocation, so innocent at first, is dangerously immoral and exciting in the right context.

"Your daughter seems to have found a passion for gardening, which is rare for young people who have only known the capital and its huge buildings," the President replies in an amused tone. 

"However, I wonder if young women have an attraction for fruity things, it brings a sweet and innocent side while retaining the exotic taste of a sweet and strong flavour, should we explore this avenue for our products?" he asked, he's the President after all, so business comes first for him. 

"It's hard to say, I know she had a shoot with different fruits as a concept, she doesn't quite fit the image of a young teenager, but an entry-level range for young girls with products that are easy to apply and discreet or even fragrant could be a target".

Another message appears on your screen with only the text ‘Now you know how to do it 💦🍋’.

The shock is quite brutal, you would never have imagined that your daughter would be so direct with you on this subject, after all you only really resumed your father-daughter relationship yesterday, the difference in personality between the nice, almost innocent girl you had yesterday and this morning and now, where she doesn't hesitate to tease you in public or by text message, a part of you hopes that she is just doing it for fun and not to satisfy you for fear of being abandoned again.

At no point do you want to force her down a path that won't make her happy, you've already thrown away your morals for her, now her happiness is your only concern, her wishes are your orders and pleasing your princess remains your goal in life.

You thank her for the guide and send her a sticker of a cat blowing kisses, followed by an 'I love you'. You put your phone back in your pocket to resume your conversation with your CEO as the clock ticks.

.

"I think we're done, I've really enjoyed this chat, I knew I could count on you to come up with new ideas, would you like to join the monthly review of their project, let's bring them the seed of your future fruity project," as the President stands up and walks towards the door.

"Sure, I'm following you"

.

.

.

The meeting has seemed endless, the chair and the others have taken it in turns to stimulate the discussion with their ideas, and what was supposed to be a simple project review has turned into a kick-off meeting for your project. It's past lunchtime and you've just returned to your office, completely drained of energy and with an appetite that's starting to grow. However, your position in the company means that with a simple phone call you can have a member of the kitchen staff come to your floor with your food.

"Knock, knock" 

"You can come in"

"Morning, Director Shin, here's your lunch," says an athletic-looking young man as he places it on your desk.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, I've had a busy morning and my legs need a rest," you say in a moment of weakness.

"No, no, no problem, sir, I'll come back for the tray later, enjoy your meal". The young man leaves your office in a hurry.

As you pounced on your meal like a hungry hyena, this break being one of the rare moments when you let your invasive curiosity take over, you grabbed the mouse of your computer to open the search browser and typed in the name of your company as well as your first name, you had this strong feeling that you knew what was being said about you or your company, public opinion is important and you were also worried about letting your bad reputation tarnish that of your daughter in case of problems at work.

And although you didn't show her much, it was also your ritual to follow your daughter's career. All these years you have been following her journey as an adult in the industry, and it fills you with pride that today your daughter's name still appears at the top of the search rankings.

Her latest Instagram post seems to have set the internet on fire, as you click on the top trending link to see a series of photos of her in the bathroom of your house, her hair flaming red, her make-up perfectly applied to her face and her brown eyes piercing through the mirror. She's wearing a lovely black and white tank top and I'm sure you'll agree that she looks absolutely fucking gorgeous in these photos, the comments are flooding in with praise for her look, despite the occasional haters, but nothing new.

You quickly take out your phone to leave a message for your princess: 

"I've just seen your photos, you're as beautiful as ever," while attaching a photo of the article you took with your phone. Once you've sent the message, you go back to your meal and your thoughts take over, you realise that this kind of little intention would have started from the beginning of her career, the simple fact of exchanging with your child and the feeling that comes from it soothes your heart and too bad if you become a clingy dad, you're going to tell her every day.

You're suddenly brought back to reality when your phone displays a notification saying that she's replied to you with a simple :

"Hihi thank you 😛, look at my little present", while a second message appears with a still blurred image, followed by a third in the conversation, Yuna had sent it as sensitive content, so you have to click on it to view it, and you're far from imagining what's revealed before your eyes: the last message served as a description with the words:  

"it was just after the shower when i was getting ready to go to the company, my little lemons have turned into cherries, all i need now is your big seed 🍒" the photo is taken from a higher angle where your daughter lifts her top to reveal her small breasts and the many hickey marks still present on her body, Her left breast and nipple are well marked by your mouth, not forgetting that she's not wearing anything, and you can see her little bush underneath, with a comment at the bottom: "To 🍼 my 🧔🏻, He must 🍼 my 😻 first".

At that moment, your cock springs to attention in a flash, it shoots up through your trousers and slams against your belly, any man knows that pain and it's far from pleasant, you loosen your belt to give your raging member a little slack, this little minx knew what to do to excite someone and the hours were going to be long from now on.

The rest of the day goes by slowly, you don't dare take out your phone for fear of getting into an embarrassing situation, you still feel some vibrations in the afternoon, but like a good professional you don't even look, the hours go by until the beginning of the evening, you leave your office and go to the underground car park, you make the effort to look at your phone and all you get are trivial messages, You're a little disappointed because you were secretly hoping for more messages from Yuna, halfway there you find yourself stuck in traffic on the road and you decide to call Yuna to find out how her day went, she answers almost immediately but doesn't answer your question, but you can hear the girls chatting as if she had picked up the phone and put it on a table.

You wonder what kind of phone she uses to get such good quality, the girls' voices are easily recognisable and the sound is as if you were in the room with them.

Yeji: "Ugh, yesterday's shoot was so chaotic! I swear we almost lost our minds trying to get the perfect angle".

Lia: "I know, right? I thought we were going to end up on a blooper reels. Remember when we all turned the wrong way during that one scene?

Ryujin: "Yeah, and Yuna was the only one who actually turned the right way! I guess she has an 'inner compass' or something..."

Yuna: "Hey! I just knew what to do! Plus you stole my concept, remember!"

Yeji: "I mean, you didn't mind talking about it online, you even mentioned your dad again, you're such a daddy girl after all"

Yuna: "Not you too! Can we please not talk about my 'daddy issues' again?"

Chaeryeong: "We can't help it! It's just so weird how you don't even look at all the sexy boys around us, I wonder what you do with all those pictures of him you snatch from the internet".

Lia: “'Even though we know what she's doing, she's acting cold towards him, but in the end it makes you hot, doesn't it? you should at least try dating someone, we've all done it so far and it's like, we're not asking you to sleep with them, just get some dating experience”

Chaeryeong: “Easy Lia-unnie, you're the one taking selfies with your exes' dicks in your mouth aren't you? they never fucked you anyway so keep your advice to yourself”

Chaeryeong:“Yuna, listen, we're not forcing you to do anything, but try to use your youth to meet people, it's weird to see you alone at home all the time.”

Yuna: “Unnie, that's not the problem, I'm just afraid of being rejected and I don't know how to tell him how I feel about him, we haven't been very close since mum left”.

Ryujin: “He's your dad Yuna, of course you love him in your own way, let's just say, just tell him and you'll be free of this burden, then we can go and pick up some hot guys backstage”.

Yeji: “I don't think she likes you getting fucked in the toilets when the newbies show up, same goes for you Chaeryoung, no one's putting any pressure on Yuna, right?”

Lia: “Easy for you to say when you're being fucked by your childhood sweetheart, we're not so lucky to have someone who loves us for something other than our bodies”.

Yuna: "It hurts, doesn't it? Aren't you afraid of getting pregnant?"

Ryujin: "'Are you kidding? Wait, you've never...? not even with the toys you hide in the box under your bed?"

Yuna: ”'OF COURSE NOT".

Yeji: "Stop laughing you bitches, Yuna this ain't that serious, yes it can hurt, you have to be prepared downstairs and remember we take all the pills the company gives us and don't forget we always use condoms, DON'T GIRLS?"

Ryujin: "Don't give us shit about it, they shove it up my arse anyway, you think I'm going to let those sons of bitches touch my pussy? a good load on the face, that's what it's all about'."

Lia: "Same thing, they can fill my arse but my pussy is off limits, I love to smash their cocks and make them scream in pain when they try to pull out'."

Chaeryeong: "Fucking listen to these bitches, apart from sucking cocks when I want to, I only fuck other girls, no risk on my side."

Yeji: "See, we're all careful, protect yourself well and don't forget your pills, they help with your periods too'."

Yuna: “I'm out of pills and I don't have a condom, but it's not like I need one, is it?!!, I'm going home tonight, don't wait for me”.

Ryujin: “Don't take it like that baby, I can give you some if you want”.

Yeji: “Yuna, come back!!! “.

You hear the loud thud of a door slamming and limbs flailing as Yuna leaves.

Yeji: “ 'Well done girls, that was clearly a good time to bring her down and make fun of her and her problems”

Lia: "Sorry unnie, we didn't think she'd take it like that, I'll go and get her'.”

Ryujin: “Stay here, you're making it worse.”

Lia: “Bloody hell, how can someone like that be so ignorant of her own sexuality, do you think she likes girls instead?”

Chaeryeong: “She's got a crush on her dad, are you stupid or what, we don't say anything to avoid the subject, she's just wanted to fuck her dad for a long time, she's got photos of him on her phone, on her wallpaper, a photo of him under her pillow, the poor thing is in desperate need of fatherly love”

Yeji: “ I don't know what happened last night, but since then she's been really nervous about it, let's leave her alone, otherwise she'll go crazy and we don't know what she'll do”.

Yeji: "We'll see about that later, it's almost time. Get ready and I'll go to her, you three go with the managers. We'll go back to the company, Chaery, get her bag and phone. She left it on the table."

Calm returned to the room and before you lost the connection to your daughter's phone, you heard

"Looks like you've got work to do Daddy Shin, sorry for the trouble" and she hangs up.

This is a lot to take in, and apart from the sexual debates between the 4 girls, which did not leave you without a reaction, the hardest thing is still Yuna's problems, which confirm your fears about her feelings, your daughter is not the provocative woman she pretends to be in the message, she is a young woman who still has a lot to learn about her own love and carnal feelings, knowing that your little girl is 'pure and innocent' would make any father smile, but on the other hand, what is the harm in learning about her sexuality? The trauma that has held her back, and for which you are probably responsible, is preventing her from moving forward in her life as a woman.

You'd been thinking all day about how to punish your daughter for her insolence, but the person you'd been talking to didn't exist. With Yuna's true feelings in mind, the next logical step seemed to be to wait for her at home and assume your role as father, as a princess deserves.

When you get home, you look at the clock and realise that she won't be home for another hour or two. That gives you plenty of time to tidy up, do your laundry and take a shower. You've picked up some bad habits living alone, but now that you're sharing your home with someone else, it's time to get the ball rolling again and restore the beauty of your property.

Time flies and you've barely had time to get out of the shower and into your new clothes when you hear the door latch click. You quickly step in front of it to see a redhead running towards you, dropping her bag in the doorway and giving you a big hug.

"Welcome home, darling," you say, stroking her head as you feel her face sink into your chest and a wet feeling hit your chest.

"I'm sorry daddy, I..."

"SHhh, it's all right, I'm here."

The situation is very different from yesterday, Yuna's shell seems to have burst the moment she saw you, you feel the warmth of her body against yours as her arms wrap around you, you say nothing, leaving one of your hands on her head and the other on her back.

"Dad, I... the message... it's not .... I wan...."

"Just breathe, I'm not angry, you know,"

"I just wanted to make you happy, I wanted to show you I'm a big girl, I'm so embarrassed now"

"You don't have to make me happy, it's my job to make YOU happy, and don't bother trying to act big, you're my little princess, that's all".

Just as she seems to have calmed down, you take her face in your hands to wipe away the last of her tears before placing a loving kiss on her forehead, "I love you," you say in a low voice as if to lull her to sleep, "I will never let you down, my only daughter.

Yuna is lulled by your words and you feel the weight of her body fall on your arms, "just rest on the sofa, I'll bring you a snack, you must be tired from your day's work", she accepts without flinching as you prepare something to eat while you wait for dinner, your daughter sits on the sofa, her head resting on a pillow, looking at you, when your eyes meet you exchange a smile without saying a word.

The evening passes smoothly, while your daughter rests and eats, you finally talk about your respective days, leaving your erotic exchanges out of the conversation, she finally gets to know your job, while you finally know what happens off camera, the night is felt and you suggest she take a shower while you prepare dinner, again she accepts without concern.

"Would you like to join me?" she asks shyly.

"Yuna, your legs are shaking, you don't have to push anything, I'm not going anywhere," you reply to her completely unexpected request.

She doesn't even answer and locks herself in the bathroom, slamming the door. You really can't understand what's going on in her head, but there's no time to lose, so you start preparing dinner.

Like last night, the meal is spent in church-like silence, each of us with our own thoughts. Yuna is completely withdrawn and doesn't even look at you, which is quite an awkward situation for you as she seems so close and then suddenly so far away.

You try to break this silence in the desert and ask her if she wants to watch a film, she takes a while to answer and then accepts, saying that she has to change first so that you can start getting everything ready while you wait for her, it's a good start and the film could give you a new topic of conversation to revive the dialogue between the two of you.

While she's still in her room, you call out to her to ask what film she's interested in. 

"Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken Please, Giselle-unnie told me it's good". 

You hear through the house, you recognise your daughter, who has always loved cartoons, once you've found them on Netflix, you adjust the brightness of the lights for a subdued effect, you've prepared a blanket and something to eat.

The minutes tick by and you wonder what Yuna is doing, you don't see much, it takes so long to get into pyjamas, but you tell yourself she's probably on her phone at the same time, which often doesn't help.

You hear her footsteps behind you and when she appears behind you, you see her wearing a simple pink t-shirt, you can easily guess that she's not wearing anything underneath as it hugs her breasts.

Suddenly she's straddling you, saying, "Forget the film, I want you, Daddy," as she pushes her body into yours and lies on top of you in a lotus position.

"Yuna, please, I," you don't finish your sentence as she slaps your face. 

"STOPPP REJECTING MEEEEEEEEEE' she screams at the top of her lungs as she bursts into tears over you, 'WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS, I....I....I JUST WANT YOU TO LOVE ME' WH... WHY ARE YOU HURTING ME LIKE THIS?

Your daughter lashes out at you in shock at what's happening in front of you, you grab her arms and she becomes helpless under the difference in strength between the two of you. 

"Yun..." 

"I just want you..." she says, her face completely ravaged by tears, the face of someone who is deeply hurt and can't take it anymore.

Something breaks inside you, all this time you've assumed she would throw herself at you, just to be like the others, just to receive the love you would have given her anyway, you've hurt her again and again until you made the same mistake you made with your wife.

Your daughter loves you more than anything and you are too blind to see that she doesn't know how else to show it, but this time you will make it right and give yourself to her.

Without further ado, you threw your lips over hers, releasing her wrists from your grip and sliding your hands from her lower abdomen to her breasts hidden under her t-shirt.

"No bra, you little rascal?"

Instinctively she puts her hands on your shoulders and fights your tongue with hers, you attack her nipples with your hand and they are already hard, the attack on her breasts causes Yuna to moan which is absorbed by your kiss, you go down her neck to place your marks while she can finally listen to her pleasure.

"Daddy, your cock, give it to me" she says as she plunges her hand into your shorts and meets your cock through the underpants, you lift her up with the strength of your legs and come to remove your underwear in one go, your cock is now naked between your daughter's thighs and she puts her hands on it.

"Put some saliva before baby," she listens to you religiously, but instead comes and gets the saliva overflowing from her pussy and applies it to your cock.

"Let me use my juices before you use yours," she says as she works your cock up and down, your shaft growing under Yuna's movements and the pleasure is truly enjoyable.

One of your hands digs into her soaking wet panties and you massage her slit with your fingers, your moaning cries joining in as you pleasure each other.

Quickly she gets up from the sofa to kneel in front of you and she begins to lick your cock with delicacy, her tongue starts at the glans and she places kisses on it, then her tongue and lips come together so that she tries to suck your sperm, her lips then go gently down the length of your cock and your cock goes slowly down her throat.

"Yuna, that's good, you're doing great," you say as you put both hands on her head to guide her, you watch as your cock disappears into her mouth as the sensations of her work send shivers down your back, from time to time she pulls out to spit on your shaft before sliding back in,

Yuna learns as she goes and her technique is perfected with each dive, after a while your breaking point comes and you refuse to finish here so you help her pull out and try to save your orgasm for later, her mouth overflowing with saliva and she looks at you with appetite.

"Sorry baby but it's my time to eat you now" you tell her as you take her in your arms and go into your bedroom where you lay her on her back on the edge of the bed, without further ado she attacks her pussy with your mouth and she presses her thighs against your head, Your tongue immediately attacks her slit, which rushes to secrete its juices, which you suck up as you go, her clit is quickly attacked by one of your hands, which takes great care to titillate the little bean, with delicacy you move up and down her slit, from time to time penetrating her entrance with your tongue to prepare the work,

The poor red girl cries out with pleasure as she experiences being devoured by her lover for the first time, she clings to your hair which she pulls when the pleasure is too great, on your side you shift into second gear and penetrate your daughter's pussy with two fingers, you feel like you're piercing a flan because the inside is so soft.

“Daddy don't stop, it's coming” your daughter cries out as she feels your third finger deep inside her, your mouth has turned into a wet wiping system as her pussy floods your mouth, you keep up the rhythm until you feel your daughter leave and in a flash her body goes rigid and her pelvis convulses under the power of the orgasm.

You lift your head and climb onto the bed to kiss your princess with a little “I love you” in her ears, 

"Daddy, I want you,” she says, stretching out her arms to ask you to come inside her, “it's time to put that seed inside me,” as she spreads her pussy in front of you.

Worried, you reach over to your bedside table for a condom, but Yuna stops you.

“It's ok daddy, I'm on the pill and it's a safe day, you can pour everything into my secret garden", Yuna's naughty language excites you immensely and your cock hurts so you give in and come to lie on her entrance and gently tap your cock to soak it in her juices, 

You sink gently and anxiously into your own daughter, resting your elbows on the mattress so that you can kiss her as you move inside her, every inch of her is painful and she lets you feel it as she scratches your back with her fingernails, you kiss her tenderly as your hips move up to touch her pussy, 

Your cock feels the tightness of her vagina as well as the warmth and moisture from your excellent preparation work, the passage through her pussy is made without too much effort and you slide deep inside her like butter, on the other side Yuna seems to take your big cock like a champion and despite the pain she has already wrapped her legs around your waist.

You feel her warm, rapid breathing on your face as you look into her eyes, just inches apart.

"Daddy, I can feel you inside me, my little pussy just ate your big dick."

"Are you alright baby, I won't move until you're ready".

"I want to sit like on the sofa".

You obeyed her orders and gently lifted her up without pulling back to let her sit on you, you put yourself on her buttocks and she was now resting all her weight on you, the change of position made your cock dig even deeper inside her and she felt it well. 

"Don't move, I want to stay connected to you like this," as she strokes her stomach trying to feel your cock, "keep eating my tits, please.

Just as your cock seems to have bottomed out, you turn your attention to her pair of little red lemons, You really loved her tits, they are not as big as some but in your eyes they are perfect, the texture of them, the feel of them in your hands and the way Yuna reacts every time you nibble on her nipples.

You decide to kiss your daughter and whisper "Shall we?" to which she only nods, you begin to rock your hips as your cock slowly emerges from her pussy and then slowly returns, never fully exiting, you carve your daughter's walls with your cock and Yuna moans with pleasure at the work of your rod.

“♥Hmm....♥Ah....♥Hmm, ah....♥ Daddy, your cock is turning me inside out, every time you push in it feels weird down there, it's a bit painful but also extremely pleasurable, I can feel your big cock pushing my sides apart and knocking on my garden gate, keep it up, I want to feel your cock ravaging me".

You pick up the pace at your partner's request, your cock seems to have done its job well as you are able to withdraw completely before impaling her again with no problem, under the force of your hips Yuna lays her head on your neck and sucks you like a baby, you let go of her breasts to lock your hold on her by circling her waist with your arms, once firmly in place you pound her with all your strength. 

“♥Ah....”

“♥Ah.... DADDY”

“♥Ah....

♥Ah.... DA”

For long minutes, you hold her close as your cock slams violently into her pussy. The pleasure comes from the fact that Yuna has her head back, unable to form a sentence. Pleasure has taken over her body. You feel your orgasm building slowly. While your daughter is already on the verge of hers, you feel her legs squeeze you hard as she explodes on your cock and her fluids flow down it. Yet you don't stop your thrusts.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Stop it"' At her command you stop and discover your daughter's face completely undressed, her hair sticking to her sweaty face and you push aside the lips that hide her eyes to kiss her.

"Let me do it now" she asks as she moves her hips on her own to embrace your sensitive cock, her movements are fast, her pussy devouring you at its own pace and you put your hands on both her buttocks to support her, you give little slaps to her delicate skin and as she fucks herself on her father's cock you feel your orgasm coming and you warn her.

"Yuna, I'm coming"

She gives you the coup de grace when she puts all her weight on her descent and your stiff cock pierces all her pussy until your balls kiss her pussy, inside your cock floods her and for the first time in her life Yuna is at the door of motherhood, her pussy sucks your sperm with efficiency and you withdraw from her.

Yuna is still sitting on your lap, your breaths heavy, your bodies full of sweat and juice, and neither of you can stand the silence as Yuna's cum begins to flow.

"Ah baby, that was amazing. You were amazing!"

"Thanks daddy, do you want some more?"

"I'm sorry darling, I'm not young anymore, my penis is withered."

You can see the disappointment in Yuna's eyes. In your youth, a second round might have been possible, but now your libido is limited to your arousal, and after emptying yourself into her, you no longer feel anything on that level.

"Daddy... Are you going to leave me like this?" says Yuna as she gets down on all fours, points her bottom at you and spreads her pussy with your cum dripping from it.

The sight of your daughter in this position would have turned any man on. You feel like it, but your desire is gone for the moment. You see your daughter wiggling her bottom, begging you to fuck her, and you're powerless to stop her.

"Dad, I'm sorry... I lied, I haven't taken the pill yet, I want a second shot or I won't take it. The longer you wait the more your seeds will fertilise my garden, look how hungry my pussy is, come and make sure you flood my pussy next to save my career."

You're at a loss for words, whether to believe her or not, but one thing's for sure, she knows how to work you because your cock has come back to life and you're going to take malicious pleasure in making her regret having put that doubt in your head.

You grab her hips and penetrate her little pussy, slamming your balls against her arse, 

The gentleness of before has been transformed into a wild fuck where only pleasure is king. Your hands are firmly planted on her hips as you pound her with your pelvis, creating waves on her buttocks that will soon feel the onslaught of your hands.

"Daddy, your cock is stirring my insides, your sperm is mixing in my pussy, push hard".

Your daughter is now nothing more than a vulgar hole in your assaults, the seed of doubt she has planted in your mind has completely removed your sanity. If she is indeed unprotected, your first sperm must have done its work in spite of you. When in doubt, you prefer to flood her a second time and make sure she takes her medicine.

Go ahead daddy, make me your property, claim my pussy as your own personal garden, I'll take care of all your fruit,' Yuna's provocations rage in your mind. So you explode into your offspring's pussy again, you stand for a few seconds spasming against your daughter's ass as she collapses onto the bed, then you do the same, completely exhausted.

'Was that true about the pill, baby?

'Yes...' she says shyly. Now that all her libido has left her body, she presses you against her breasts and whispers in your ear: "It's too early to taste my juice, you'll have to give me some more water.

Your daughter is soon off to dreamland, still naked, and the bed is soaked with the fluids of your lovemaking. You make sure you look as tired as possible before you too collapse.

.

.

You wake up to a pleasant smell, but also to a body in pain. The bedroom gym session hasn't done your body any good, but your mind is at peace. As you leave your room, you see Yuna in an apron preparing breakfast. Beside her is a pack of contraceptive pills, two of which are already empty. When she sees you, she says:

"Good morning, Dad, you're going to need your strength, remember, you have to stir the soil first before you put your seed in. We're going to have to spend some time on this before you can make my pussy fertile for you."

Later, as you're driving to work, you see an important email from your CEO and a message from Yuna; you'd like to think that the email is more important, but that would be lying to yourself,

The text message is just a selfie of your daughter still in bed next to you with the message 'I've got a body full of marks, the girls are going to realise what we've done, not to mention I've still got your sperm in me 🤭"

Classic Yuna, but you'll have to get used to it. You've made a pact with a demon, but who cares, you're no angel anyway.

As for the email, just looking at the title 'Meeting with JYP & ITZY', it looks like you're finally going to meet one or more members of your daughter's group.

______________________________________________________________

[bunny-jpeg]

team principal!max verstappen - he really did take a shining to his new driver. verstappen racing needed all the driving power it could get and max had to take a few risks. when he saw you cross the track, not even twenty-five yet. he saw the championship in your eyes.

"want to make a deal?" "a deal, sir. i'm a driver not a prostitute." "no, no. you're far too talented to do those kinds of tricks." max's finger dragged down your wrist, "how do you feel about becoming a formula one driver?" only an idiot would've said no.

you became his star, his champion. more trophies than stars in the monaco night sky. as he clinked glasses with you over a stellar season. you mirrored your mentor. you raced the way we did, was sarcastic the way he was. there were even side-by-side photos of how you stood. you broke his records and did it with a bright smile.

but even at the top. you craved more. and while you carried max's advice in your back pocket. you wanted more than pats on the shoulder and sound guidance. in a way it meant tugging on the man's jealousy. encourage thoughts of you that were lewd. what started as sly touches and lingering stares eventually turned into max kissing you in the middle of the garage after another successful weekend. and when he held you face and looked into your eyes. you knew that you had him.

but, you didn't realize that max wasn't letting you go anytime soon. your shadow in the paddock, the voice in your ear as you drove. he left you little time to form any romantic connections. "you wanted to be the best." he held you by the chin to make you look at him, "winners don't take short cuts." and you nodded at him. max wondered as he held you chin, how red he could make you lips once he finished biting at them. he couldn't leave your neck covered in hickies, but he could leave your lips red and swollen. even in the off season you were close to him. often at his apartment in monaco, there he could be a little more forthcoming with his affection. blinds drawn to keep out the afternoon light as his eagerly ate you out. his hands on your thighs, applying enough pressure to keep you in his grasp.

there were more than enough rumors circulating around you and max. you tried to distance yourself as a result, fearing what others thought of you. but max only brought you in closer. "who cares what they think." he purred, "they're just jealous. you have the skills, the team, the team principal. they're envious that they'll never accomplish as much as you." then pulled you in a little closer to kiss the top of your head. a promise that you'd never squirm out of his grasp, there was a reason why in your contract there wasn't a way to get out of it for at least five years. after that time max had bigger plans for you.

you knew you should be worried. but you were blinded by the glory. the victories, the trophies, the money. the pouring of champagne and the world knowing your name. you owed everything to max. the one who plucked you out of obscurity and into the dazzling lights of formula one. but when you were in his apartment, dressed in just his t-shirt and panties as he made you dinner after a tumble in the sheets. you could feel the bites on your thighs and stomach, the ache in your knees and back from when you rode him. when you were alone with him outside the track, the worry set in.

max's words hung in your mind, "there's no need to worry, my prize.", it was simply an accident that there was a hole in your team shirt. max happily gave you his! don't look too closely at the shape of the hole and don't start wondering if it was a pair of scissors that did it. it was simply a mix up in the computer that your last name on your paddock pass was 'verstappen', the intern who put in all the information must've clicked the wrong thing! (even though you knew it was max who sent over all your details at the beginning of the season). and definitely don't worry about what happened to that mechanic from ferrari who had a habit of coming over to talk with you. as your team principal, max will ensure that you're taken care of. right now you need to think about the qualifiers and the races!

"thank you so much, mrs. verstappen." a pa chirped before one of the races and you felt a cold shiver run through you.

it was only warmed when max placed his hand on your lower back. he chuckled, "does sound nice, doesn't it? mrs. verstappen." he smiled at you and you swallowed.

you feared that maybe, just maybe, you got in over your head.

[gpcwsl]

Can you please cherry on top 🍒 write Leah x R x Alessia in the beginning stages of their relationship?

I would love to see where lessi and le were actually dating & r fell for both of the girls, but the girls fell harder?

The two blondes are stubborn so angst with a happy ending! I feel like R would fall for lessi first due to her soft nature and welcoming the newbie on the team. R falls for le after getting to know her & doing a media tik tok with her?

I will let you have allllll the creative freedom, i feel like all the feels would be felt from each person 💖💖💖💖💖🤝🏻🤝🏻🤝🏻🤝🏻🤝🏻🚨🚨❤️‍🔥👏🏻😮‍💨

Warnings: short, written quickly, three people dating? I am not shipping Leah and Alessia, they are good friends.

Alessia Russo x Leah Williamson x Reader:

- We’re better together -

MasterList

Joining Arsenal felt like a dream come true, but as the newbie on the team, you couldn’t help but feel out of place. Alessia Russo was the first person to make you feel at home.

“Hey,” she said after training one day, her soft smile instantly disarming. “You settling in okay?”

You nodded, though the tightness in your chest betrayed the nerves you carried. “Yeah. It’s just a lot to take in, you know?”

“I get it,” Alessia replied, her voice warm. “When I first joined, I was a mess. But if you ever need anything, I’m here.”

Her kindness struck a chord with you. Over the next few weeks, Alessia became your anchor, her bubbly personality and open heart making it impossible not to feel drawn to her.

What you didn’t expect, however, was the way her girlfriend, Leah Williamson, made you feel.

Leah wasn’t as outwardly welcoming as Alessia. She was kind but guarded, her sharp wit and quiet confidence intimidating at first.

It wasn’t until a team TikTok challenge that you began to see another side of her. Paired up for the video, you spent the afternoon bantering and laughing as you stumbled through the dance routine.

“You’re terrible at this,” Leah teased, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

“You’re not much better,” you shot back, unable to suppress your grin.

By the time the video was finished, your cheeks ached from laughing, and something in Leah’s demeanor had shifted. She was still guarded, but there was a warmth to her now—a connection that left you wondering if maybe, just maybe, she saw you the way you were starting to see her.

It hit you one evening during a team dinner: you were falling for both of them.

Alessia was seated next to you, her laughter infectious as she recounted a story from training. Across the table, Leah caught your eye, her smirk sending a jolt through your chest.

You excused yourself to the bathroom, your hands gripping the sink as you stared at your reflection.

“This is bad,” you muttered to yourself. “This is so bad.”

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop your feelings from growing.

Leah and Alessia weren’t blind to the way you looked at them, though they didn’t address it immediately. It wasn’t until a particularly tense training session that everything came to a head.

You’d been distracted, your performance subpar, and Leah—ever the perfectionist—was quick to call you out.

“Focus, [Y/N],” she snapped. “You’re better than this.”

Her words stung more than they should have, and when Alessia approached you after practice, concern etched on her face, the dam finally broke.

“I can’t do this,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

“Do what?” Alessia asked softly, her hand brushing against your arm.

You hesitated, tears pricking your eyes. “I can’t be around you two. It’s too much.”

Understanding dawned in Alessia’s expression, and she exchanged a look with Leah, who had been lingering nearby.

That evening, Leah and Alessia cornered you in the locker room, their expressions a mix of determination and vulnerability.

“We need to talk,” Leah said, her voice firm but not unkind.

You nodded, bracing yourself for the fallout.

“We’ve noticed how you’ve been acting around us,” Alessia began, her tone gentle. “And… we think we know why.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding. “You do?”

Leah stepped closer, her gaze piercing. “You have feelings for us, don’t you?”

Silence hung heavy in the air before you finally nodded, your cheeks burning. “I’m sorry. I know it’s wrong—”

“It’s not wrong,” Alessia interrupted, her voice steady. “It’s just… complicated.”

Leah’s expression softened, her hand brushing yours. “The thing is… we feel the same way.”

The days that followed were awkward but hopeful as the three of you tried to figure out what this new dynamic meant. Alessia was the first to take a leap, inviting you to join her and Leah for a casual movie night.

As the three of you sat on the couch, Alessia’s head resting on your shoulder and Leah’s hand intertwined with yours, you couldn’t help but marvel at how right it felt.

But it wasn’t all smooth sailing. Leah’s stubbornness and Alessia’s tendency to avoid conflict led to tension, especially when it came to jealousy.

One evening, after a fan interaction where Alessia had been overly friendly, Leah’s frustration boiled over.

“You don’t have to flirt with everyone you meet,” she snapped.

Alessia’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t flirting, Leah.”

You stepped between them, your voice firm. “Enough. This isn’t helping.”

Their arguments always ended the same way: with apologies and quiet reassurances, but it was clear that this relationship would take work.

One rainy afternoon, the three of you found yourselves tangled together on Leah’s couch, the sound of raindrops against the window creating a soothing backdrop.

“I never thought this would work,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Leah pressed a kiss to your temple, her voice soft. “Neither did we. But I’m glad it does.”

Alessia’s arms tightened around you, her smile radiant. “We’re better together.”

And as the rain fell outside, the three of you knew that this was just the beginning of a love story worth fighting for.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER ONE ━━ Move-in Day

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 5.8K

❀ ━ warnings: none except this shits so dialogue heavy it’s almost sickening

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: hiii so this is my new series!!! i lowkey hate this chapter SO much i’ve rewritten it three times and can’t get it the way i want so i’m just publishing it as is. this fic is going to be much more light-hearted than take me to church (lol), big big slow burn and if i get it right almost reminiscent of a romcom. i hope you guys enjoy this chapter more than i did LOL

THE EARLY afternoon light filters in through the half-drawn blinds, casting long shadows across the apartment floor. Paige stands in the middle of her new room, surveying the chaos of boxes, bags, and half-assembled furniture. It’s good to be back on campus—she’s been away for a few weeks, visiting her dad and Drew in Maryland and then her mom and siblings in Montana, and while she’s glad to have seen them, she can’t help but feel a pull toward the UConn, being with the team, practicing, basketball, all the above.

Her mind buzzes with excitement, anticipation for the new year, the new faces, the new challenges. She’s already mentally putting together how the season might go, how she’ll keep pushing herself harder, how she’s ready to lead her team. It feels like the first time in a long time that she’s been able to focus purely on basketball without the stress or rehab and recovery and she’s glad.

Her roommate, Josephine Jacobson—Jo—isn’t around yet. She’s a freshman, a sweet girl, the type that bleeds sunshine but can pull the demon out of herself on the court. Paige knows all about her, of course—how she’s a natural point guard, the number one recruit in the nation, will probably be the future of their team—but they’ve never really been close. Haven’t had the chance to be. But, as always, Paige feels optimistic about it. God put them together for a reason. After all, her past roommates have become some of her best friends. Nika and Evina her freshman year, and then Amari and Dorka last year. It just works out that way. Basketball bonds people, and she’s sure this year will be no different.

She moves one of the boxes to the side, careful not to knock over a stack of them as she does so. She arranges a pile of sweatshirts and sweatpants, making sure everything’s folded as neatly as she’s able to before moving on to the next task. This year, she’s determined to keep things organized, less chaos, more control. She wants her space to actually look nice, not like she’s some sort of slob. (She’s not sure how long this goal is going to last for).

Aubrey strolls in, another one of Paige’s boxes tucked into her hip. She’s already unpacked herself, having got here yesterday, and she’d offered to help Paige when she got here a little under an hour ago. Aubrey opens the box, seeing the bright purple comforter inside.

“Okay, P! I see color!” she says, a teasing grin on her face. “You finally given up on making your room look like a prison cell?”

Paige laughs, rolling her eyes. “Aye, my standards have rose this year. No more living in a box.” She gestures to the several LeBron and basketball posters filtering the floor in the corner of the room. “Decorating it nice this time, trust.”

Aubrey shakes her head, clearly amused. “Yep, I’m sure Bron’s face being the first thing you see when you walk in is gon’ make it real cozy.”

Paige just laughs again, stepping back to decide which corner of the room she wants her bed in. She tilts her head, looking back before deciding it’ll go best directly across the mirror-closet. For certain reasons she’d probably rather keep to herself for now.

“Who’re you rooming with again?” Paige asks, looking over at Aubrey, who’s taken the liberty of placing the millions of shoes Paige owns on the top shelf of her closet.

“Carol and Lili. It’s gonna be chill, for sure.” She shrugs before her eyes gleam a little, smirking at Paige. “Azzi’s gonna have it rough this year, though. Putting her with two freshmen is crazy work. They hyper as hell.”

Paige shrugs a little as she moves over to her bed. “Eh, Ines seems more quiet if anything. Ice, though, yeah. Azzi’ll be fine, though. She deals with me enough and I’m prolly just as bad.”

“Worse,” Aubrey corrects.

Paige rolls her eyes, opting to ask, “Can you help?” instead of responding to the jab. Aubrey nods, moving from her spot by the closet to stand next to Paige before the bed. “Where d’you want it?” she asks.

“Just in that corner,” the blonde responds, nodding her head to the other side.

Aubrey nods again and strides to the opposite side of the bed, the one near the wall. It’s a queen, so it’s too wide for just the two of them to carry, meaning they’ll have to just push it. Paige sighs before starting, her muscles straining slightly as she shoves her bed across the floor, the bed frame scraping noisily against it. Aubrey’s beside her, grabbing the other side with a grunt, their movements in sync but still awkward, both of them trying to be careful not to knock anything over or break anything.

“So,” Aubrey starts, breaking the rhythm of their movements, “what d’you think about yours? Jo. She’s a freshie, too.”

Paige doesn’t pause, her hands gripping the bed frame as she shifts it a few more inches. She’s thinking more about the layout of the room—where she wants things. After a few seconds, she shrugs, glancing over at Aubrey. “She’s cute,” Paige says simply, her voice light as she looks for the right angle to fit the bed by the wall.

Aubrey pauses. For a second, Paige doesn’t even notice—she’s too busy pushing the bed into position. But then Aubrey let’s our a low, exaggerated breath and Paige glances up, noticing the way she’s studying her with a raised brow.

Aubrey gives her a behave type of look. “You cannot fuck Jo Jacobson,” she tells Paige, slow and deliberate, like she’s really trying to get the blonde to understand this.

Paige’s head whips toward her, eyes wide, her grip slipping off the bed frame. “What?” she asks, voice higher than she intends. She looks at Aubrey, still not quite sure if she’s hearing her right. “What are you even talking ‘bout?”

Aubrey just stares, the expression on her face unwavering. “I’m saying, you can’t fuck her. Like, seriously, don’t even think about it.”

The words hit Paige like a slap, but it’s not the harshness of them that makes her heart skip. It’s the fact that Aubrey said it with such absolute certainty, like it was a rule she needed to lay down for Paige.

The blonde furrows her brows as she process what Aubrey just said. She opens her mouth, trying to make sense of it. “Aubrey, what? I—” she stops herself, trying to piece things together. The more she thinks about it, the weirder it all sounds. She barely knows Jo—hell, Jo hasn’t even gotten to campus yet. She’s literally just a sweet freshman, one of the new players. Of course, Paige isn’t thinking about anything remotely romantic with her. Not at all.

She can’t even fathom it.

“Aubrey, bro, are you seriously suggesting that I… What?” Paige repeats, still not believing it. “I—I don’t—no, no, that’s not even a thing.”

Aubrey exclaims, “You just said she was cute! You can’t be doing that, P.”

Paige shakes her head, laughing a little in disbelief, clearly thrown by the whole insinuation. “Yeah, like in a I-wanna-pinch-your-cheeks kind of cute,” she says, mimicking the motion with her hands. “Like she’s sweet, not like she’s fine and I wanna hit that. She’s a freshman and our teammate, bro—you know I ain’t do stuff like that.”

Aubrey, unfazed by Paige’s defense, just raises an eyebrow. “Ion know, your hook-ups have been kinda wild lately.”

Paige rolls her eyes as she reaches down, grabbing the corner of the bed and pulling it another inch into place. “That’s different,” Paige tells her. “That was like, months ago—”

“Three weeks ago,” Aubrey interrupts, but Paige doesn’t bother listening.

“—and that wasn’t even serious. I wouldn’t do that shit with Jo. She’s pretty, but—”

She cuts herself off, realizing how that could sound, and immediately backpedals.

“But she’s a teammate,” Paige finishes, nodding as though it’s the most logical conclusion. Which, it is. “I don’t see her like that. She’ll prolly be like a little sister or something. Seriously, you ain’t gotta worry about this.”

Aubrey doesn’t seem entirely convinced but just shrugs it off with a nonchalant wave. “Alright, alright. Just makin’ sure. Senior duties and all,” she says.

Paige rolls her eyes, nudging the girl in her ribs. Aubrey hisses, and nudges the blonde back. And then they return their attention to the bed, giving it one final tug, making sure it’s aligned just right.

Paige pulls away, taking a look with her hands on her hips. The room looks good, feels right. A good place to spend her next year. And even though she doesn’t know what that year might bring—how the team will play, how her body will hold up—it feels like everything’s in its place for now.

(Minus Aubrey’s odd assumptions, that is).

JO’S STOMACH flutters with a mixture of excitement and nerves as the car pulls into the parking lot right in front of what will be her new home. Her gaze drifts over the apartment building, taking in the sprawling complex that will be hers for the next year. The sun is high, casting everything in a golden glow, and it’s one of those perfect, early summer days—the kind that makes everything feel new and fresh. This is it. She’s finally here. UConn; her dream since forever. The place she’s watched on TV for as long as she can remember, watching them win championship after championship. And, now, it’s real. She’s actually here.

Her dad pulls into a parking space, the car humming to a stop, and Jo takes a deep breath, fighting back the lump in her throat. It’s not that she’s scared; it’s more that it feels huge. This is the beginning of everything. Her heart races a little, her palms tingling. She’s excited—so excited—but it’s all a little daunting, too. The whole what if she doesn’t belong here, what if it’s not everything she’s ever dreamed of echoes in her head, but she knows better than to entertain those thoughts. Despite this always being her dream school, she made sure to explore her options before committing. And, after everything, Storrs was somehow her favorite.

But it’s still a little hard to ignore the tiny voice in the back of her mind that whispers doubts. At least she has familiar faces here—her teammates. She can’t imagine coming here alone, without knowing anyone at all, without that built-in support system. It helps, knowing that the people she’s going to spend the next chapter of her life with are familiar faces, not strangers. Still, there’s a big difference between practice and living together, between seeing someone for a few hours on a court and sharing an apartment with them. The whole thing feels a little surreal.

“Ready, sunshine?” her dad asks, giving her a side-eye as he shuts off the car. His voice has a teasing, comforting quality that always makes Jo feel like everything will be okay.

Jo doesn’t answer right away, just smiles nervously, nodding as she unbuckles her seatbelt. “I think so,” she says, trying to sound more confident than she feels.

Her mom grins at her from the front seat, practically glowing with excitement. “Come on, it’s gonna be so great, Joey.”

Jo laughs softly, the sound easy and light, nodding. They get out of the car, opening the trunk, and Jo begins unloading her bags and boxes—the millions of them. She didn’t mean to over-pack, but somehow, her whole life had been crammed into suitcases and boxes. Her parents each grab as much as they can hold, but even the three of them can’t carry everything, so they head toward the building, the weight of it all already starting to feel like more than it should.

The hallway inside the building smells like fresh paint and clean floors, and it has that crisp, cool air of a place that’s seen its fair share of new beginnings. Jo’s parents chat with each other, but Jo can hardly keep her thoughts straight. She’s here, really here, and she’s not sure if it’s excitement or fear that’s making her heart beat so fast.

They trudge up the stairs together—her dad leading, her mom picking up the rear, and Jo in the middle. The stairs creak beneath their weight, and every step takes them closer to her new life. She tries not to think about how much this move means, how much it’s going to mean—because that’s just the kind of thing that could make her go a little crazy.

When they finally reach her apartment, Jo’s the first to pull out her keys. She opens the door, excitement bubbling in her chest, but as she’s about to step inside, someone is trying to step out, bumping right into her.

Paige.

She steadies Jo with a hand on her shoulder, looking down at the girl—she’s only got a couple inches on Jo, but it certainly feels like a lot more right now—saying, with a little bit of surprise in her tone, “Oh, hi, Jo.”

Jo stills for just a split second. She’s met Paige several times—throughout her recruitment, last year when she and Ice and Yanna were here for First Night, all the games she attended in between—but, for Jo, it’s still a little like, wow, okay, hi Paige Bueckers. She’s admired Paige and her game for years, so yeah, maybe she’s a little starstruck every time she sees her. But she realizes just as quickly how that needs to change immediately because they are going to be living together for the next year. She’s here for a reason, not to be starry-eyed over the blonde girl in front of her.

“Hey!” Jo manages, flashing Paige a bright, warm smile that’s always her go-to move, even if her heart is racing.

Paige’s gaze shifts from Jo’s face to her parents, then down to the ridiculous amount of luggage they’re all holding, and her eyebrows raise. “Wow,” she says with a laugh. “Over-packer?”

Jo laughs, too, feeling some of that initial awkwardness beginning to seep away. “This isn’t even all of it,” she admits, shifting her weight a little. She realizes how she’s being a little rude, not introducing her mom and dad, so she gestures to them and says, “These are my parents. And this is Paige.”

Jo’s parents exchange polite hellos, nodding toward the blonde, who’s already stepping aside to let them through.

“Lemme help you with that,” Paige offers before anyone can protest, already lifting a couple of boxes from Jo’s mom. It’s clear she’s used to helping out—comfortable in this setting—and Jo appreciates it, even though she knows she can manage. But Paige’s energy is infectious, and she can’t help but feel comforted by the ease in the older girl’s presence.

“Thanks,” Jo says gratefully. “It’s a lot of stuff.”

Paige shrugs, a casual smile on her face. “It’s all good. We’ve got time. I’ll help you get settled.”

The four of them make their way into the apartment, and Jo’s parents immediately make a beeline for Jo’s bedroom to drop off the bags they’re carrying. They work together, setting everything down in a neat pile before Jo’s mom turns to her with a warm smile.

“We’ll go get the rest of it,” she tells her daughter. “You start unpacking, ‘kay?”

Jo nods, trying to hide the way her heart sinks a little at the idea of being left alone for the first time in a new place.

But then she realizes, she’s not alone. Paige is still here.

Jo takes a deep breath, then steps further into her room, already eyeing the empty bed and the space where she’s going to have to build her new life. The door clicks shut behind her, and suddenly it’s just the two of them. For a moment, neither says anything. It’s a little awkward, that first silence between two almost-strangers who are about to be more than that—roommates, teammates, friends.

Paige rubs the back of her neck, probably feeling it too. Clearly, though, she doesn’t like that, and Jo watches as she lazily plops down into the standard-issue desk chair, making herself at ease. She grins at Jo, saying with a casualness that somehow manages to be both disarming and mildly intimidating, “So, how was the drive?”

Jo shrugs a little, leaning slightly on the bed frame. “Not bad,” she replies. “Boston’s only like an hour and a half away.”

“Oh, yeah,” Paige says, nodding her head in almost mock realization. “New England girl. I knew that.”

Jo grins, bemused and already starting to feel more comfortable. “Born and raised.”

“Nice,” Paige says, dragging the word out a little. “You got the accent and everything?”

“I don’t know, do I sound like I do?” Jo asks, laughing softly.

Paige’s grin widens as she spins in the chair. “Hmm,” she hums, eyes narrowing teasingly. “I dunno, talk more.”

Jo laughs again, looking at the blonde with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “What do you want me to say?” she questions, tilting her head as another small giggle bubbles in her chest.

“Like, something with an R. That’s what a Boston accent is, right?” Paige shrugs, gummy smile on full display and eyebrows raised. She leans forward a little, before saying with a terrible attempt at a Boston accent, “Park the car in Harvard yard?”

Jo can’t help but outright snort at that, stomach constricting as she laughs at the blonde. Paige laughs, too, scrunching her nose as she does so. “Oh my God, you did not,” Jo manages between giggles, eyes crinkling a little.

“I did,” Paige replies. “Now you gotta! Lemme hear the accent!”

“You’re not real,” Jo mumbles, shaking her head, in half disbelief at the pure unseriousness of Paige Bueckers. But it’s nice—that she’s already making her feel so comfortable. Jo sighs, before saying indignantly, “Park the car in Harvard yard.”

Paige claps her hands together, laughing loudly as she exclaims, “You definitely have one!”

Jo’s jaw drops a little, defending, “No one has ever told me I have an accent, you definitely just need your ears checked.”

Paige grins, shaking her head, saying, “Nah, it’s there. I heard it.”

“Fine,” Jo relents, rolling her eyes. “You should hear my dad, though. It’s really thick sometimes.”

Paige leans forward on the chair again, eyes lighting up with a bit of interest. “I gotta hear it. Maybe I’ll ask him to say it, too.”

Jo just shakes her head, rolling her eyes again as the corners of her mouth twitch upward despite herself. There’s something about Paige that makes it hard to stay guarded—not that Jo was trying to. She’s just… larger than life in a way that could definitely be overwhelming, but there’s such an ease to her too, a confidence that feels oddly inviting.

“Are you finished unpacking?” Jo asks, breaking the newfound silence as she gestures vaguely toward the blonde’s room behind the door.

Paige shrugs, her expression somewhere between proud and sheepish. “Mostly. Aubrey and I did it this morning, but I definitely cut corners. If you open any of the drawers in there, so messy. I got lazy.”

Jo raises an eyebrow, her lips quirking up. “Efficient, though.”

“Exactly,” Paige says, pointing at her. “You get it.”

And then the easy rhythm between them is interrupted by the loud, unmistakable growl of Jo’s stomach. Her cheeks flush immediately as Paige’s grin spreads wider, her laugh concerns again breaking the quiet of the room.

“Hungry?” she teases, spinning the chair one last time before stopping to slouch backward against it.

“Ugh, yeah,” Jo groans, pressing a hand to her stomach. “I haven’t eaten since, like, breakfast.”

“Same,” Paige says with a nod, pushing herself up out of the chair and stretching her arms over her head. “I think we’re all gonna get pizza tonight, though. Go up to Nika’s and hang out. She’s with Yanna and Amari. You’re coming, of course.”

Jo grins, raising her eyebrows as she says teasingly, “I don’t have a choice?” It’s just a joke, because, obviously, even if she did, she’d go either way.

Paige gives her a little look, narrowing her eyes jokingly as she leans forward, flicking Jo on the arm and telling her, “Absolutely not.”

Before she can respond, there’s a knock at the doorframe and Jo’s mom’s voice floats in cheerfully, “Look who we found!”

Jo turns to see her parents standing in the doorway, her dad carrying a suitcase while her mom holds the door open for someone else—none other than Ice Brady. Jo knows Ice well, the two of them having gotten easily close during different USA basketball gigs and through their shared commitment process. Ice grins broadly, a laundry basket balanced on her hip—clearly, she’s been put to work.

“Aye, hey guys!” she calls out, stepping into the room with an energy that matches her nickname—cool, but in a warm and easy way.

“Of course they roped you into helping,” Jo says, laughing as Ice sets the basket down with a playful groan.

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” she says, shaking her head playfully as she glances back at Jo’s parents who just smile at her, shrugging.

Ice then leans in, giving Jo a little side-hug as she says, “Hey, JoJo.”

Jo rolls her eyes, swatting at Ice’s arm. “I told you, no calling me that.” While Paige, who’s now leant casually against the desk, exclaims, “Oh my God, like JoJo Siwa.”

Ice laughs saying, “Exactly,” as she leans over and daps Paige up with a grin. Jo gives both of them little glares, saying, “No, I am not JoJo Siwa! Jo or Josephine, nothing else.”

Ice shrugs, sniggering, “JoJo.”

“Isuneh!”

THE AIR in the apartment is warm and filled with the hum of overlapping voices. Paige sits tucked into the corner of the small couch, her legs crossed under her, a half-eaten slice of pizza balanced on a paper plate in her lap. To her right, Dorka’s mid-sentence, recounting some story from her summer that has Aaliyah laughing hard enough to cover her mouth with her hand.

It’s the first real team hangout of the year, the kind where the bonds for the season start to form, where they begin to really get to know the new guys. The absence of last year’s seniors—Christyn, Olivia, E—feels strange but not exactly heavy; just like a space waiting to be filed rather than a void that can’t be. Paige glances across the room at Lou, Azzi, and Ines, sprawled across the other couch. Azzi leans back, her ankles crossed on the coffee table, her focus more on her phone than the conversation, but Paige knows her well enough to see that she’s listening. Lou’s animated hands keep catching Paige’s eye as she gestures through some story, and Ines is nodding along, face lighting up with her adorable freshman-ness.

Paige’s gaze then drifts downward, landing on the scene on the floor. Jo is half-laying across Caroline’s legs, her dark hair spilling against Caroline’s leggings. Caroline, ever the mother, absently runs her fingers through Jo’s hair while chatting with Aubrey. Faintly, Paige is aware that Jo and Caroline know each other well, have been friends for years. Both grew up in Massachusetts, not far from one another, same AAU team if Paige’s memory serves her correctly.

The new guys—the freshmen and Lou—all already fit in well. Lou and Ines have already created easy bonds with each other and Azzi. Ice is playfully bickering with Nika and Amari at the table, the three of them leaning into a conversation that seems half-joking, half-serious. Jo’s a little quiet, looking more thoughtful than anything, but Paige can tell she’s completely comfortable as she lays on Caroline and listens to her steady stream of chatter. Yanna, too, though she’s also on the quiet side, pitches into Aubrey and Caroline’s conversation every now and then.

Paige shifts her focus back to her plate, taking another bite of pizza. It’s bland and overly chewy, a far cry from what she’s been craving. She doesn’t say anything, though. The conversation flows around her, easy and light, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional clink of someone setting a cup down too hard.

“God, this tastes like cardboard,” Ice announces suddenly, holding up her slice with a look of exaggerated disgust.

“Yeah, it’s… not good,” Jo says with a little grimace, Paige watching as she glances at her half-eaten slice that she hasn’t touched in probably ten minutes.

“Tastes like cafeteria food,” Yanna says from her spot on the bar stool, though Paige can see that she’s eaten all of hers.

“Worse than cafeteria food,” Azzi chimes in, eyes still on her phone, tone a little dry. “School pizza pretends to have flavor.”

Nika nods at everyone’s words, looking like the pizza situation might as well be a tragedy. Which, to Nika, Paige knows it kind of is. “Yeah, bro, we gotta go to New Haven if we want any god pizza. It’s my biggest disappointment in life.”

Paige grins at that, leaning back into the couch as she watches the exchange. It’s funny to her how every year, without fail, the new players get hit with the reality of Storrs’ subpar pizza options. “Y’all gotta get used to it.”

Ice groans, and Paige laughs a little as she contradicts herself and takes another big bite of pizza.

Jo glances up from her spot on the floor, dark brows arching in amusement. “Nika, New Haven’s an hour away.”

“Worth it,” Nika insists, hands slicing through the air for emphasis. “Best pizza in the country, hands down.”

“Eh, debatable,” Ice fires back, smirking.

“Debatable?” Nika repeats, looking scandalized. “’Kay, no, see, now you gotta go. I’m takin’ you to Pepe’s or Sally’s, and then we’ll talk.”

The debate spirals from there, the room splitting into factions—those who have been to New Haven and swear by it, and the skeptics like Ice who clearly need convincing. Paige inputs a couple times, but other than that continues eating her cardboard pizza, taking the time to listen, which she doesn’t usually do. The topic quickly starts to feel like it’s been beaten to death, but that doesn’t stop Nika from gesturing wildly as Ice shakes her head, arms crossed like she’s already over it.

Paige’s gaze shifts from them to Jo and Caroline, who are directly in front of her across the room. There’s a mischievous tilt to Jo’s smile as she watches Ice and Nika, and Paige feels a pang of curiosity. Jo looks like she’s got something to say, and sure enough, a beat later, she interrupts with a voice that carries just enough weight to make everyone turn her way.

“Ice,” Jo interrupts, her tone deceptively innocent, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Let’s quit talking about pizza and talk about your new little goal you’ve got.”

The room collectively seems to perk up at that. Paige sits up straighter, interest piqued. She glances at Ice, who immediately shoots Jo a warning glare.

“No,” the Brady girl says firmly, voice clipped.

The refusal only makes Paige more curious. She leans forward, elbows on her knees now, eyes wide with a playful insistence. “Oh, no, you gotta tell us now,” she exclaims, grin wide.

Aaliyah, beside her, says, “Yeah, Ice, don’t leave us hangin’!”

Ice shakes her head, clearly unwilling to budge. But Jo, apparently unfazed by the glare the Brady girl has set on her hard, sits up slightly, her smile turning almost devilish. “Ice said she wants a sneaky link by next week. It’s her number one goal now that she’s on campus!”

The reaction is instant and explosive. Loud laughs and little screams of exclamation erupt from everyone as Ice’s face twists into a mix of betrayal and outrage. Paige finds herself laughing so hard she has to lean back into the couch, her head tipping toward the ceiling as her shoulders shake.

“Jo!” Ice exclaims, her voice a biz of exasperation and disbelief. She grabs a napkin from the table and chucks it at Jo, who barely flinches.

Caroline picks the napkin up and tosses it toward the trash can, her tone scolding and motherly as she says, “Ice.”

But Ice doesn’t listen. Instead, she points an accusing finger at Jo, her eyes narrowing. “JoJo, you’re such a traitor.”

Jo’s grin only widens. She shrugs, looking utterly unbothered as she settled back into Caroline’s lap. “Hey, we’re all willing to help you find a fuck buddy, don’t you worry.”

Ice glares even harder and it makes Jo laugh again. Paige can’t help but let her gaze linger on the brunette, her chest still tight from laughing. Jo’s giggles are unrestrained, her cheeks flushed with amusement. There’s something about it that Paige finds infectious. The way Jo lights up when she’s laughing feels almost magnetic, like she’s carrying her own little pocket of sunshine.

“Oh, Ice,” Nika says, pulling Paige’s gaze away from Jo. There’s a familiar glint in Nika’s eyes. “If you need help finding a sneaky link, Paige is the expert. She’s got you covered.”

Paige’s mouth falls open, eyes widening as she stares at her twin. “Yo!” she exclaims, sitting up.

Amari snorts from her spot at the table, her expression one of barely-constrained amusement. “P, be for real.”

Azzi, who hasn’t looked up from her phone in a while, adds in without missing a beat, “Paige is a man-whore, if that wasn’t obvious.”

Paige gasps dramatically, her hand clutching her chest like she’s been mortally wounded. “I ain’t even a man!”

“You act like one,” Caroline chimes in, voice calm but teasing.

Paige just stares at all of them, her mouth slightly open, as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing. “Man, what’s all this gangin’ up on me for?” she asks, her tone half-offended, half-playful.

Eventually, the room’s energy slowly shifts as the teasing dies down. Laughter fades into soft chuckles, and everyone starts settling back into their spots. Paige stretches her legs out again, her socked feet brushing lightly against the coffee table. The buzz of the conversation has left her grinning, though her cheeks still feel warm from all the ribbing. She’s content to let the chatter flow around her now, her focus drifting as she scrolls on Instagram until Aaliyah leans forward from the couch and throws a spark back into the room.

“Jo,” Aaliyah says, tone playful, “since you were so quick to expose Ice, you got anyone you’ve been wanting?”

Paige perks up at that, curious despite herself. Sue her if she’s nosy. She glances toward Jo, who’s still sprawled on the floor, her head now resting against Caroline’s knee. Jo’s expression doesn’t change much, maybe softens slightly.

“No, she doesn’t,” Ice says quickly, annoyance lacing her voice. Paige can tell it’s because she can’t humiliate Jo like she’s just exposed her. Ice gestures at the Jacobson girl with her pizza crust like she’s making a point. “Girl’s already met her damn husband.”

Paige raises an eyebrow, intrigued by the certainty in Ice’s tone. She watches Jo carefully now, noting the way a faint smile tugs at her lips. It’s not the cheeky grin she’s been wearing most of the night; it’s something softer, quieter, like the thought of this so-called future husband of hers is enough to soothe her, ground her.

Amari leans forward from her chair and tilts her head. “Aw, Jo, you have a boyfriend?”

Jo nods, that same small, telling smile still on her face. Paige notices how her cheeks turn just the slightest shade pinker. It’s… different. Softer, almost vulnerable.

Damn, Paige thinks, watching her. She must really love that boy.

The room seems to erupt again, this time not in laughter but in a cascade of questions and exclamations. Nika asks, “How long you been dating?”

Jo shifts a little, clearly embarrassed, mumbling, “Eighth grade.”

Paige feels her eyes widen, almost so wide they might as well pop out of their sockets. It’s impressive—a middle school relationship lasting that long.

But then Caroline adds with a knowing smile, “Yeah, but you’ve loved him since you were, like, four, Jo.”

Jo’s face flushes deeper, and she buries it briefly against Caroline’s leg before mumbling, “Yeah, we’ve been next-door neighbors our whole lives.”

The whole team seems to aw at that, exclaiming how cute. “Jo, that’s like a movie!” Azzi says softly, a hopeless romantic. Paige has to admit they’re not wrong. It’s that perfect, golden sort of story people write novels about—the girl-next-door falling for the boy-next-door.

Except Paige doesn’t really think it’s all that cute. Maybe it’s because she’s too gay, but she doesn’t get how anyone could be into a boy, especially for that long. It just seems… exhausting. Still, she keeps her mouth shut, letting the conversation roll on without her. It’s uncharacteristic.

Ines, eyes wide with interest asks, “What’s his name?”

“Asher,” Jo answers, voice soft but steady.

Dorka, next to Paige, claps her hands together. “Let me see a picture, Jo!”

Jo hesitates for a second, her blush depending, but then she sits up and pulls her phone out of her pocket. She unlocks it, turning the screen toward Dorka—and toward Paige, who can’t help but sneak a glance.

Paige hates to admit it, but it’s… cute. The way Jo’s looking at him in the picture—it’s soft, unguarded, like the rest of the world could fall away, and she wouldn’t care as long as he’s there.

Paige doesn’t know if she’s jealous that Jo has a love like that and she doesn’t, or if she’s disgusted by the whole prospect.

Dorka coos, smile wide. “So cute!”

Jo laughs, a little bashful now, and Aubrey pipes up from her spot on the barstool by the kitchen. “Where’s he going to school?”

“Penn State,” Jo answers.

Paige catches the the slight shift in Jo’s posture, the way she tenses a little, the way her smile falters ever so slightly. That kind of distance is hard, especially for a young relationship.

Paige leans back into the couch, her gaze still lingering on Jo as the conversation continues. She wonders if they’ll last. Not in a mean way—Jo clearly loves the guy—but Paige has seen it happen before. Everyone has. High school sweethearts falling apart once they hit college, the distance and the changes proving too much.

Still, something about the way Jo smiled at him in that photo makes Paige hesitate. Maybe they’ll be one of the lucky ones.

Or maybe it’s not her place for even thinking about it at all.

[stayevildarling]

Agatha Harkness x Cordelia Goode x Reader-Undone by desire

A/N: I can‘t stop thinking about these two so here we are🤷🏻‍♀️

tags/tw: soft dom!cordelia, mean dom!agatha, sub!reader, corruption, praise kink, mommy kink, jealous cordelia, virgin reader, cordelia recieving (strap), reader recieving (oral, strap), agatha recieving (oral, strap) enchanted strap, choking

word count: 4.5k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples

The coven‘s halls had undeniably been more alive since Agatha Harkness arrived. Cordelia, ever the welcoming and open supreme allowed the covenless witch to join, offering her a place at Miss Robichaux‘s as after everything, the brunette just wanted to belong. Agatha accepted with grace but there was something mysterious about her, the way she carried herself and the atmosphere changed whenever she stepped into a room. Despite it being some weeks now, you noticed immediately, Agatha was the kind of woman who didn‘t need to raise her voice to make herself understood, her voice laced with something darker, there always seeming to be a deeper intention behind her words. And you couldn‘t deny that you felt drawn to her.

At first, your interactions had been harmless, a sly comment here, a lingering glance at the dinner table there. You brushed it off for her nature, usually the more quiet one around the academy, only really opening up yourself once you know someone a bit better. It had taken you years to warm up to Cordelia, to allow yourself to laugh around her and allow yourself to slowly fall for her, not able to hide the way she made you blush. But Cordelia had warned you about Agatha, telling you to be careful. „She‘s powerful“ she said one afternoon. „And power often comes with… complication“.

But days turned into weeks and Agatha‘s interest in you deepened, becoming harder and harder to ignore. She was suddenly always near, offering to help you with your magic, whispering low and suggestive things that made your cheeks burn. At first you enjoyed the game, unsure how to play it exactly but letting the witch pull you right under her spell, unaware of her ulterior motives. But as Agatha‘s influence grew, Cordelia noticed the shift in you as you began questioning things about the coven, your powers and mostly about Cordelia. The woman who you had been head over heels for for years, the woman who would make you blush, who was so gentle with her touch and the woman who made the others mumble about her attraction to you but Delia never voiced those, not in the way Agatha so bluntly would.

The supreme wasn‘t blind to what Agatha was doing, how she was slowly drawing you in, seeing how you slowly became alive under attention and it sparked something within the blonde. An overprotectiveness that came as a force, laced by her raging jealousy. You noticed it a while back when the three of you worked in the greenhouse, Agatha leaning closer and lowly murming in your ear „You‘ve got so much potential“ she praised, watching you work effortlessly on your magic. „If only someone helped you truly unlock it“ she whispered, voice dripping with something more than encouragement. And that was enough for Cordelia to snap. „That‘s enough Agatha“ she said sharply, her voice firm but the other witch simply smiled, leaning back as if nothing happend, getting exactly what she wanted out of this exchange.

The following days seemed to change everything, the tension in the academy heavy. Cordelia‘s overprotectiveness reached its peak point as she made sure to keep you safe. Her eyes lingered on you as she made sure not to leave you and Agatha alone, worried what would happen if she did. Meanwhile Agatha continued, knowing exactly what she is doing, she enjoyed winding the supreme up, being able to tell her little plan was working just fine, not only slowly corrupting you to be her perfect little pet but also get the side of Cordelia to show that she has seen since joining, something hidden deep.

„You‘ve been awfully quiet“ Agatha purred the other day, as you passed her in the hallway. Her hand brushed against your arm, halting your movements. „What‘s on that pretty little mind of yours?“ she asked, causing your cheeks to burn. Before you could answer though, Cordelia appeared out of nowhere, stepping between you two. Her expression was calm but her voice filled with something you had never seen in your supreme before. „Agatha don’t you have somewhere else to be?“ she questioned calmly.

Agatha smirked, unbothered by Cordelia‘s interruption. „Funny, I could ask you the same thing Ms Supreme“ her eyes flickered to you for a moment before she carried on „Or do you always hover so closely over your students?“. Cordelia stiffened, her compusure beginning to crack „I don‘t hover, I protect what‘s mine“ she snapped. „Yours?“ Agatha laughs, she leans closer to Cordelia, their faces inches apart and for a second you thought they may kiss under the tension of it all. „Funny, I didn‘t think posession extended to matters of the heart“ Agatha whispered. The tension between them felt suffocating snd despite their words seeming like they may want to kill each other, their body languages betrayed them both, the mutual attraction undeniable.

Her words lingered on your mind „I protect what‘s mine“ she said and you couldn‘t sleep that night, couldn‘t focus for the next few days, not understanding where this had came from. Cordelia had always been kind to you, maybe even putting you above other students but she had never made a step, not in all those years, despite the obvious signs of your mutual feelings for each other, despite the whispers of the other students, despite the deep conversations in the greenhouse at 3am, despite the times she looked at you like she wanted you but stopped herself just in time.

A day later you opted to retreat to the library, the tension in the academy almost suffocating you as you seek refuge. But not even the pages of the book you are reading can distract you from what has been going on. You couldn‘t stop thinking about Agatha‘s touch on your skin, the way it made you feel on fire, letting thoughts cross your mind that hadn‘t crossed your mind before. But then there was Cordelia, her words, her protectivenesse and the undeniable feelings you have had for her from the beginning.

You are startled when the sound of the library door pulls your attention from the book, Cordelia steps inside, her gaze locking onto you. She seems much less composed than usual, almost if she is holding something back. „I thought I might find you here“ she says softly, crossing the room to where you are sitting. „Delia“ you almost whisper as you set your book down. She pauses, looking into your eyes „Sweetie I need to talk to you“ she begins but before she can carry on, Agatha steps inside, wearing a purple suit that draws your eyes onto her, the rings, the way she carries herself captivated you. „Well isn‘t this cozy“ she says, her voice dripping with amusement as she steps closer. „I was hoping to find you alone dear but seems Ms Supreme beat me to it“ she chuckes, so unfazed at the way she just waltzed in and interrupted you both.

Cordelia turns „Agatha“ she says almost sharply „This isn‘t the time“ she warns, her voice filled with authority, which causes your eyes to land on her. But Agatha doesn‘t care, her attention entirely on you „You know, I‘m beginning to wonder whether Cordelia is as concerned about your wellbeing as she claims.. or if this is something“ she pauses, stepping closer „Deeper“. Her movements are slow and deliberate „Tell me darling, do you feel protected hm? or do you feel trapped?“ she asks, causing your heart to race.

„That‘s enough“ Cordelia snaps, stepping in between you both. Her calm composure is unraveling again and you are surprised, no one ever having pushed her buttons just like Agatha had. „I won‘t let you manipulate her“ the supreme warns. „‚Manipulate?“ Agatha repeats, amusement evident in her voice. „Darling, I don‘t need to manipulate, she is already curious, aren‘t you sweetheart?“ she purrs, looking right at you. „You have felt it haven‘t you? that pull? you‘re drawn to me just as much as she is to you“ the brunette claims which causes your heart to stop as your hands begin shaking.

„Leave her alone“ Cordelia demands, her voice shaking now with rage, she moves closer to Agatha, their faces inches apart. The tension between them was undeniable, air thick but there was something else as Agatha tilts her head, her smirk disappearing as she steps closer. And there it was again, their faces inches apart, their words not matching the ways their bodies spoke. „You‘re so quick to defend her“ she murmurs „But tell me Cordelia- are you really protecting her from me? or are you afraid she might choose me if you let her decide?“ the brunette questions. Cordelia glances at you and you see her faltering for a brief moment, her jaw tight.

This wasn‘t jealousy anymore, you could see the way Agatha almost leaned in as to test the supreme‘s boundaries and the supreme almost faltering. „She‘s not a game Agatha“ Cordelia warns, voice barely above a whisper. „Neither are you“ Agatha speaks softly, her smirk replaced by a sincerity that takes your breath away. It seems like the tension between them fleeds but Cordelia stiffens again before speaking. „Go to your room Y/N“ she demands, eyes darting to you. „Now“ she instructs her voice firm.

„Delia“ you tried but she cut you off with that look. And so you listened, leaving them, glancing at them one more time, hearing Agatha chuckling „So obedient“ before you leave, knees weak and breath trembling as you make it to your room, feeling like you are caught in a game that you didn‘t fully understand. The way they stood so close drove you crazy, a part of you yearned for the thought of them kissing but another part of you felt confused, Agatha‘s intensions almost clear but Cordelia‘s so confusing.

Something changed that night. You felt it when you stepped into the kitchen the next morning, hoping to find some coffee as you had been awake the entire night, unable to stop thinking about either of the older women. Agatha stepped inside, something softer about her demeanor as she greeted you „Hi darling“ she said before Cordelia joined, the supreme‘s demeanor seeming less protective, more composed and calm even with Agatha beaide you. „Good norning“ she greeted you, helping you to some coffee as your eyes darted between them. „How are you feeling darling?“ Cordelia asked gently, which caused you to shrug and mumble a quick „I‘m fine“ before you wrapped your hands around the coffee mug. „You seem distracted sweetheart, something on your mind?“ Agatha asked.

You glanced at Cordelia who remained silent, waiting for your answer but you stayed quiet. „She seems a little overwhelmed don‘t you think?“ Agatha asked which caused Cordelia to nod. „We‘re here for you sweetie“ she encouraged. „You don‘t have to be afraid“ she whispered as her hands brushed over your shoulder gently. „We aren‘t going anywhere“ she reassured before Agatha joined in again „We just want you to know you are wanted“ she exclaimed, the statement almost taking your breath away. And then you realized that whatever happened between them that night changed everything, they weren‘t fighting over you anymore, they were working together.

The following days went by in a haze, you barely managed to function under their gazes, Cordelia‘s lingering protetective presence, Agatha‘s hands on you and the way she was teasing you. It took everything within you not to give in to them, trying to think of a way to balance this but the more the days passed, it left you lonely in the nights, aching for their touch and presence. And tonight something within you snapped, the way they hovered around you by the dinner table, the way their eyes spoke lengths, their voices dripping with desire.

By the time the night came around you found yourself restless, abandoning the idea of sleep before wandering the hallways. And somehow you found yourself by Cordelia‘s office, the door slightly ajar, almost inviting you inside. Your hands trembled as you finally bring yourself to knock and the door opens immediately, exposing both Agatha and Cordelia, sitting opposite each other, murming words that you couldn‘t make out. You could see Delia leaning forward, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder‘s, Agatha‘s dark eyes glistening.

The brunette‘s gaze catches yours and her smirk widens „Well well“ she murmurs „Look who couldn‘t stay away“ she grins, leaning back into her chair. Cordelia turns, her soft eyes finding yours „What are you doing up sweetheart?“ she asks gently, though there was something knowing in her tone. „It‘s late“ she says which causes you to falter. „I..“ you stammer, feeling your cheeks burning under both of their gazes. The words get caught in your throat, the intensity of even being in the same room with them impossible.

Agatha stands slowly, her movements calculated as she approaches you. Your eyes immediately travel to her dark purple blazer, her white button upped shirt and her jewrely. „She looks like she has something on her mind“ she murmurs as she glances back at the supreme. She stops just a step away from you, her presence causing you to shiver „What is it darling? you can tell us“ she encourages and then Cordelia rises too, her approach much gentler than Agatha but no less commanding. Her hand brushes your arm, softly grounding you but her touch makes your breathing hitch nevertheless.

„You don‘t have to keep it in sweetie“ she says softly, her eyes searching yours. „We know“ she breathes, causing your heart to pound in your chest. They both stand so close now, Delia equally in an outfit that has been driving you crazy for years. They both seem to pull you in like a magnet, Agatha‘s dark knowing smirk and Cordelia‘s gentle gaze exactly what you have been yearning for.

And then you couldn‘t hide it anymore „I“ you begin, voice breaking as you hide your trembling hands „I want you. Both of you“ you whisper, barely audible but enough for both witches to hear. Agatha‘s smirk only deepends, her eyes glistening while Cordelia simply parts her lips in a soft gasp, cheeks flushing at your confession. „Well“ Agatha murmurs „Finally“ voice filled with satisfaction. The supreme‘s hand on you tightens a little, her eyes flickering to Agatha before returning to you. „Are you sure darling?“ she asks, her voice barwly above a whisper. You could tell she was in control, just the way Agatha was but there was something deeper behind her eyes, almost sparkling with love, wanting to make sure this was truly what you wanted.

All you can do is nod, unable to form words, your entire body trembling. Agatha takes the initative, her head tilting as she moves impossibly closer „You have no idea how long we have been waiting for this“ she says softly „For you to finally admit it“. And then she leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that ignites a fire within you, one that has been fueled by their actions for weeks, one that takes your breath away as you cling to the woman, holding onto her for dear life as her mouth explores yours, thinking if you stopped holding on, you might pass out under the intensity of it all.

Agatha pulls away, moving to the side to give Cordelia the room, the supreme steps closer, her hand resting on your cheek as she speaks. „We‘ll take care of you“ she promises, her voice trembling with sincerity. „If you let us“ you nod weakly, causing the supreme to smile softly before stepping forward, hovering for a moment before she leans in. And her kiss is much softer, no less demanding or assuring who’s in control here but it was filled with something almost sweet, the desire to please you, to make sure you are okay and make you feel good and the kiss settles in your heart as this had been on your mind for years.

The brunette creeps up behind you as you both pull away after a while, your eyes locking with the supreme‘s for a moment. „Follow me dear“ she instructs and you do, letting the older woman lead you out of the room and into her bedroom, the supreme following as they lead you into the woman‘s sanctuary. You hadn‘t seen Agatha‘s room yet, much darker than the usual light academy, the place filled with candles, the atmosphere mysterious as she leads you to bed. She makes you sit there before she turns to the supreme, capturing her lips in a kiss that takes your breath away. You watch their mouth, the way they both fight for entrance, the way Agatha stands tall and the way Cordelia doesn‘t falter. The scene causes your breathing to hitch as you press your thighs together, the arousal already staining your underwear at this point.

They both turn to you with knowing glances, seeing your chest heave and hearing your breathing hitching. „Would you like to do the honours of undressing her Ms Supreme?“ Agatha teases which causes Cordelia to nod softly as she makes her way over. „Is that what you want sweet girl?“ she asks as she bites her lip and all you can do is nod, words having left you long ago by now. Her movements are gentle, painfully slow as she begins kissing down your neck, leaving gentle bruises that would become reminders of this night soon. She begins by taking your shirt off, deliberately slow as she exposes your red lingerie, causing her to smirk ever so slightly. When you watch her go on her knees, you think you might explode, watching as she begins taking off your socks, your trousers and leaving you in nothing but the red set you had chosen for tonight, a part of you knowing where this would lead.

„Lay down there darling“ she instructs, her voice filled with authority and desire as she makes you lay in the middle of the bed, Agatha‘s eyes darkening as she watches the scene unfold. Cordelia begins hovering above you, crawling on top of you as she begins kissing you, her tongue immediately entering your mouth as she begins exploring you in a way she had been meaning to forever. Agatha is quick to abandon her own clothing, leaving her in nothing but a purple bralette which causes your eyes to drift. The brunette goes on her knees as she hovers behind Cordelia, making sure to undress the supreme too. You notice her struggling with Cordelia‘s shirt and so you glance at the supreme, silently asking for permission as your fingers ghost over the buttons of her shirt. She nods and you help Agatha with ease to undress her. „Such a good attentive darling“ the brunette purrs which causes you to moan into Cordelia‘s mouth.

„What do you think we should do with her first?“ Agatha purrs as her hand travels over Cordelia‘s torso, reaching her neck as she grabs her and reaches for another hungry kiss. „Should we make her watch? fall apart while we make her wait?“ the brunette smirks. The supreme‘s eyes fall upon you, considering their options. „But she‘s been so patient already“ the blonde counters which causes Agatha to fake pout. „Have you little one? do you not wanna wait any longer?“ she mocks which causes you to shake your head desperately. „Well then I‘ll let you do the honors Ms Supreme“ she smiles which causes your heart to race. The blonde begins gently caressing your skin, her mouth exploring you as Agatha‘s hands cup your breasts. The supreme‘s breath hitches, seeing parts of you that she never had before, the tattoo covering your collarbone.

Her touch is featherlight until she reaches your center, chest heaving by now. She glances at you with so much care in the world, despite the hunger evident in her eyes. „May I?“ she asks as her fingers begin playing with the wasitband of your red panties and you nod eagerly before Agatha interupts „Words darling“ she corrects you and you force yourself to speak „Yes please“ you pant which causes her to grin. „Good girl“ the supreme praises which sends a shiver through you as her tongue begins exploring you. At first, she begins kissing the inside of your thighs, her eyes leaving yours as Agatha begins pleasuring the supreme from behind. By the time her tongue licks through your folds, collecting your sweet juices a gutteral moan escapes you. „Delia“ you whine, wiggling as you need to feel more.

It takes you a good minute to realize that Agatha is wearing a strap by now, holding onto Cordelia as she pounds into her from behind, all while the blonde dips her tongue inside you. A gutteral moan escapes you again as she brings you so close but she stops herself, letting Agatha devour her, sending pleasure through her body as she grips onto the sheets beside you. You watch in awe, body trembling as Agatha makes the supreme feel good, moans and curse words falling from the blonde‘s lips all at once. At some point, you feel like you can‘t take it anymore, letting your hand travel down to your clit to get at least some friction, watching the supreme orgasm on Agatha‘s strap.

„Nuh uh“ Agatha stops you, placing your hand away from your clit as you whine. „Do you want mommy to make you feel good too?“ she asks, her voice filled with sweetness as she hovers above you. „Yes please mo-mommy“ you moan, watching as Cordelia comes down from her high. Agatha wastes no time in alligning herself but the blonde stops her „Have you ever done this sweetie?“ the supreme asks as she locks eyes with you and you shake your head. She glances at Agatha who gives her a knowing look „Don‘t worry Ms Supreme, I‘ll be gentle with your precious girl“ she teases which causes the supreme to roll her eyes. „If it‘s too much or you want me to stop, you tell me okay? But I have a feeling you‘ll enjoy this sweet girl“ Agatha coos and you nod, not caring about any of this as the desperation gets the better of you.

The brunette remains on her knees, purple strap tugged against her hips as she slowly begins teasing you with the tip, pushing it in slowly to let you adjust. Your eyes force close at the strange sensation, whincing ever so slightly before something bursts and your eyes fly open. „More please“ you whisper, causing Agatha to smirk, having known there was this side of you as Cordelia‘s eyebrows raise in surprise. She sinks in completely, making you take her entire length as she begins filling you up, her hips thrusting into you slowly first but then fast, keeping up a steady pace of edging you, wanting nothing more than to make you a screaming, begging mess for them. You had never felt this way before, the attention of two beautiful and attractive women on you like that, their hands roaming your body, Agatha fucking into you so perfectly sending you into a bliss, barely able to function anymore, let alone breathe.

„Fuck“ you curse and even Cordelia barely manages to keep herself together, watching your tits bounce, back arching and mouth hanging open. Her hand finds yours and your grip on her tightens, feeling the pleasure rush through you. „You are such a perfect little slut, taking us so well“ Agatha purrs her hand finding your neck, neither of you aware that she had enchanted the strap and could feel every single thing herself. Your eyes find Cordelia‘s again, so overwhelmed by the intsity of this and feeling the coil in your stomach about to burst. „You‘re doing so well sweetie“ she praises, causing your cheeks to burn red again at her words. Agatha can feel how close you are, deliberately pulling out of you which causes you to whine „Taste yourself on mommys cock sweet girl“ she orders and you don‘t waste any time as she brings it to your mouth, wanting nothing more than to be good for her.

You take her into your mouth, trying not to gag but the size mixed with the fact you hadn‘t done this before cause tears to form in your eyes. Agatha‘s own pleasure takes over as she begins fucking your mouth, Cordelia watching in awe as she never once took you to be nearly this filfthy. After another while Agatha pulls out, wasting no time before she slams her cock into you again, leaving you breathless. „Please mommy“ you whine „I‘ve been good, I wanna be good. I - fuck please I wanna cum“ you almost scream, causing Agatha‘s smirk to widen as she takes your left leg, putting it against her shoulder as she begins fucking into you at another angle. Cordelia watches in awe seeing you fall apart like this, her fingers finding your mouth as you begin sucking. „Cum for me pretty pet“ Agatha whispers which makes you fall apart.

Your back arches as you clench around her cock, feeling your own cum mix with her own, making sure you ride out your high as your eyes are forced shut, chest heaving as stars form in your vision, causing you to close your eyes. Screams, moans and names fall from your lips all at once before Agatha eventually pulls out with a satisfied smirk. Cordelia lays beside you, gently stroking your cheeks before whispering „Breathe sweetie“ and her voice guides you away from the bliss and into reality as she guides you to find your breathing again. By the time your eyes open, you find both women look at you with both a proud and hungry expression, you having been so perfect for them. „You did so good baby“ Cordelia coos as she gently wipes your tears before Agatha pulls you in for another kiss „The perfect obedient little angel“.

There was something in the air after you finished, both women still eager and so were you but they could tell you needed a break, especially after your first time with them. Cordelia was gentle in how she touched you, cleaned you up and encouraged you to drink. Agatha‘s eyes never left yours as she lays beside you, admiring the view and the pretty marks she left on you. „Did you enjoy that?“ she asks after a while of the three of you laying in silence. You nod, feeling their eyes on you as a little smile creeps onto your features. Cordelia‘s eyebrows furrow, seeing something clearly on your mind. „When can we do it again?“ you whisper causing Agatha to chuckle lowly and Cordelia to gasp at your boldness. „Well I definitely underestimated you“ she jokes before pressing a kiss to your lips and if one thing was for sure, this night would be very long after all.

[ravstars]

Let’s nap ☆⌒(ゝ。∂)

⌇Wanderer/ Scaramouche x Reader.ᐟ

જ⁀➴Fluff: You and Scara take a nap together! Modern AU

a/n: Omfg I was supposed to post Childe smut yesterday but I overthought it too much and got very nerv to post it so I‘ve decided to let it marinate a little more in my drafts until I don’t feel too embarrassed to post it lmao, forgive me! In the meantime, please enjoy some tooth rotting fluff hehe ^-^ This is super short but I’ll make it up to you guys, promise!!

With the months seeming to pass by in a much faster manner than usual, the sun shining through the big windows blinds you with it’s vigorous rays of sunlight. So warm and comfortable that it seems understandable to everyone to take afternoon naps and laze around, even to your sweet lover.

“Scara…” you hug and wrap your arms around his waist from behind as he seemed busy to be preparing some late noon snacks in the kitchen. It had only been a few months since you and Scara had moved in together, yet the domestic feel of just waking up together, spending the day together, cooking together and sleeping together never seemed to stop making your heart beat in a ridiculously fast rhythm every time. It was heaven on earth, in a way.

You get pulled out of your thoughts soon enough, though, as Scaramouche, who had by now finished preparing your snack, turned around to face you.

“What is it?” He feigns annoyance and crosses his arms over his chest, his brows furrowed lightly.

“Gee, lighten up, will ya’?” Your thumb reaches out to smooth over the crease between his brows, as he bites back a visible smile.

“Here, your damn carrots.” He rolls his eyes and hands you a plate with carefully peeled and cut carrot sticks. You in turn take one from the plate and munch on a carrot

“Let’s nap… I’m so sleepy.” You lay your head on his chest, nuzzling, earning a tut from him

“You seem rather energetic to me.”

“C’mon, please…” You give him your best puppy eyes and hope he can’t resist, which earns you a soft smack on the head

“Ow…” before you can even say something else, though, he pulls you by your hand, now in a much gentler manner, towards the couch you had picked out together.

“No funny business,” he ensures, “you wanted to nap, so we’re gonna nap, alright?” You take what you can get and nod, sitting down on the couch before he pushes you down to lay on your back. Afterwards, he lays down next to you, turning to his side and pulling the blanket on the armrest over you two, especially over you. His voice, now softer, rings in your ears

“Tell me if you need anything else. If you’re cold or—“

“— just… cuddles.” Your eyes are already drawn shut and your body has been captured in slender arms. Your wish is his command, after all, may he admit or not. You respond by nuzzling into the crook of his neck, pushing yourself closer and closer until there’s no space left between you.

It’s not toilsome to get sleepy in his arms, proven by your already fading conscience before you feel a light kiss pressed onto the crown of your head

“I love you, Idiot.”

Indeed he does.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Ace Trappola: Trouble, that Trappola

Wow, different pjs??? I wonder if each student will truly have unique sleepwear or if it’ll be like “everyone in the same dorm has similar sleepwear, just recolored and with a different motif”. I’ve been laughing about how Ace is dressed and posed, it’s very… Justin Bieber-coded. His bedhead though, it reminds me of Sylvain from FE3H.

Fun fact, I have an irl friend that has the same birthday as Ace... Therefore, I am legally obligated to celebrate it with them/j This year, we're going to an Alice in Wonderland-themed afternoon tea, which I think is very appropriate for Ace! Aaaaaah, My Alice in Wonderland-loving heart can’t take it 😭

Rise and Shine!

He was having a pleasant dream.

There was a path, and the longer he walked on that path, the more the scenery morphed into nonsense.

First was a forest full of twisting turns, colorful signs that pointed this way and that. There was mewing coming from the trees overhead, but every time he looked, he’d find no one there.

Next was a field of progressively bigger and bigger plants. The flowers had faces set in them, and they taunted Ace as he passed. He had plucked the underside of a mushroom cap and chomped down on it. A mistake—Ace had an out-of-body experience, ballooning to the size of a giant and then back to his regular size.

Then he washed away in a sea of tea, spilling from a gigantic glass bottle labelled Drink Me. He swam with the sugar cubes drifting in the fragrant rapids. He caught a current of milk and rode it past trees of chocolate. A dollop of grape jam had dropped down from a branch and landed on his nose.

When Ace, at last, fished himself out of the tea, he was left sticky, skin caked in sugar. As he made to wring his clothes of Darjeeling, he spotted an iced cookie by his feet. Eat Me, it said. There was a trail of them, confections dotting the road ahead in a neat trail. He had followed it—followed until the cookies became crumbs and he was left wandering in a white void, a blank canvas.

Wandering… wandering… where?

Just as that question cropped up like an unwanted weed in an otherwise flawless lawn, a soft sound tickled his ear.

Someone was calling his name.

Who is it…?

He picked up his pace. A casual stroll to a speed walk, then a speed walk into a jog, a job into a run, then a run into a full-on sprint.

"I'm coming! I'm coming already, darn it!!" Ace shouted into the blinding white. "I'm coming, so...!!"

Wait for me. I'll meet you there.

I'll definitely, definitely...!!

His eyes snapped open.

He was lying on his back, wrapped up in his comforter and staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. Ace blinked several times, slowly adjusting to the sunlight that was spilling in through drawn curtains. A groan escaped him--it was too early for this.

“Mmm… What time is it?” He rolled over in a groggy daze, reaching for his phone. It was still connected to a charger, but it snapped right out of its socket when Ace jolted up. "WHAT?!"

The time, it couldn't be correct. But the line of text messages in his history confirmed the building dread in his stomach.

Gm, Ace! I'll be over soon. Cya then.

I'm here!

Hey, are you up? It's 10 minutes past.

Did you stay up late talking to your bro and sleep through your alarm again?

Hellooooo?

I'm gonna leave without you if you don't come out in 5 minutes.

"Crap, I'm running late!!"

Ace leapt out of bed and flew across his room. The comics and magazines littering his mattress scattered to the floor, but he didn't stop to pick them up.

He moved like lightning, hurriedly dressing and rushing into the communal washroom. While he brushed his teeth with one hand (lest he face the wrath of his vice dorm leader), he teased out his hair with the other. After splashing his face with water (who was going to clock him, Vil?), Ace scribbled on his signature heart, grabbed his backpack, and slipped into his sneakers.

He had his technique down pat thanks to years of practice.

Ace bolted down the hall, stuffing a protein bar into his mouth as he cleared the door. The day greeted him--and so did you, glancing up from your own phone.

"There you are! You kept me waiting, wise guy," you lectured him. It wasn't anything serious--not like his dorm leader's lengthy tirades--just paling around.

"Excuse you," Ace huffed, running a hand through his hair, "I'm fashionably late. There's a difference."

You laughed. Typical of him to always have a snappy comeback prepared.

"Well, c'mon then, fashionably late loser," you urged, playfully nudging his arm, "or we'll both be tardy."

"We'll be late, but at least we'll be late together," he grumbled, nudging you back. "That's fine by me. Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to be stuck in a room with ya for the afternoon."

"That's a weird way of describing detention with Crewel-sensei."

"What can I say? I'm a poet," he shrugged, letting his sarcasm drip like thick nectar. "Besides, I can't leave you hangin'."

"No?" Your eyebrows hitched. "Funny, cuz I clearly remember you ditching me for cleaning duty on the first day of classes. I almost thought you had left for class without me today too."

"Oi, that was then and this is now! Come on, do you really think I'd do that to you? Me? Really?"

"Absolutely," you said without missing a beat.

"Pfft. You're so wrong about that." He rolled his eyes. "If you were really that worried that I'd gone without you, you could've poked your head in to check on me."

You frowned. "That'd mean I'd have to go into your room."

"So? I've been over at your place and in your room before. What's the big deal? You'd just be returning the favor."

He leaned in, so close that your noses almost touched. Your heart stood still. The corners of Ace's mouth lifted into a smirk. It suited him well, loathe as you were to admit it.

"Or is it that you're being shy?" he asked in a singsong. "Prefect 🎵"

"I-I'm not!" you squeaked, stepping back to put distance between the two of you. "Quit assuming things, Ace! This is why you're so annoying."

"And who is it that's decided to hang out with my 'annoying' ass, huh?" he countered smoothly.

"Urgh...! Maybe I shouldn't have wasted my time waiting for you to get ready after all..." you muttered, turning away from him. "My morning would be way more peaceful without you."

"Way less interesting too," he quipped--getting in the last word.

You shook your head, but didn't bring yourself to argue. However meddlesome his tongue was, he had spoken the naked truth.

He's trouble, that Trappola.

[ms-snape]

Hi could you please write an imagine in which snaps and reader are together, reader grew up in a muggle house, didn’t go to a wizarding school therefore doesn’t know a whole lot about magic. Somehow they find out the other has powers and Snape takes it upon himself to teach her everything.

Title: Magic?

Warning: None

Words Count: 2000+

Masterlist

___

Severus Snape was a man who kept his life meticulously ordered—every detail tightly controlled, every secret well-guarded. His flat in Spinner’s End reflected that precision: shelves lined with books on obscure topics, an assortment of jars containing rare herbs and powders, and not a single item out of place. For years, his life had been predictable, secluded, and exactly as he preferred it.

Until Y/N.

She had appeared one rainy autumn afternoon, moving into the house near his with a clatter of boxes and the faint sound of her laughter through the place. He’d paid her no mind at first, assuming she was just another ordinary muggle passing through the neighborhood. But Y/N had a way of quietly insinuating herself into his life, her warmth and curiosity chipping away at the walls he had spent years constructing.

It started with small conversations, then turned into shared cups of tea on dreary afternoons. Severus found himself drawn to her despite his better judgment, captivated by her wit and her ability to see through his sharp exterior without fear. Before long, her presence became a comfort he didn’t know he needed.

But Severus Snape was no ordinary man, and secrets like his had a way of complicating even the simplest of relationships.

The first time Severus noticed something unusual about Y/N, it was during one of their many tea sessions. She had been recounting a frustrating encounter with a nosy coworker, her voice tinged with exasperation, when the sugar bowl on the table suddenly slid toward her without anyone touching it.

Severus froze, his sharp black eyes narrowing as he watched the bowl settle.

Y/N, however, seemed entirely unaware. She simply reached for the sugar and continued talking as if nothing had happened.

The incident lingered in Severus’s mind for days. It wasn’t an isolated occurrence. As their relationship deepened, he began to notice more of these oddities.

One evening, while she was cooking dinner, she muttered under her breath about needing a spoon. A drawer across the room creaked open, and a wooden spoon floated out, landing neatly on the counter. She had stared at it in confusion for a moment before shaking her head and muttering something about exhaustion.

Then there was the time they had gotten into a mild argument. The moment her voice rose, the lights flickered ominously, and a glass on the counter shattered. Y/N had apologized profusely, blaming her clumsiness, but Severus couldn’t ignore the growing evidence.

She was no ordinary muggle.

He debated telling her for weeks, but every time he tried, the words caught in his throat. How could he explain magic to someone who had lived her entire life unaware of its existence? More importantly, how could he tell her that she might possess magic of her own?

As he hesitated, Y/N’s curiosity began to grow. She wasn’t blind to his odd behaviors—the way he seemed to know things he shouldn’t, the strange ingredients she occasionally glimpsed in his kitchen, or the books with titles written in languages she couldn’t understand.

It all came to a head one fateful evening.

Severus had been in his study, absorbed in a particularly complex potion, when Y/N’s voice broke through his concentration.

“Severus, can I ask you something?”

He looked up, his expression unreadable. “What is it?”

She stepped into the room, holding a thick, leather-bound book in her hands. His heart sank as he recognized it immediately.

“Where did you get that?” he asked sharply.

“It was on the shelf,” she replied, her brow furrowed. “I was looking for something to read, and this caught my eye. But… Severus, what is this? It’s not just a book, is it?”

He rose from his chair, his movements slow and deliberate. “Y/N,” he began, his voice measured, “that is not something you should have been reading.”

“Why not?” she pressed. “It’s not like I can understand half of it. But the parts I do understand…” She flipped the book open, pointing to a page filled with detailed instructions for a potion. “This talks about powdered unicorn horn and asphodel. These aren’t… normal things, are they?”

Severus stared at her, his mind racing. There was no more hiding it.

“No,” he said finally. “They are not.”

She waited, her expression a mixture of confusion and determination. “Then explain it to me. Please.”

And so he did.

Severus spent the next hour explaining everything—the wizarding world, Hogwarts, and his own role as a potions master. He spoke of magic and its many forms, carefully observing her reaction as he revealed the truth he had kept hidden for so long.

Y/N listened in stunned silence, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. When he finished, she exhaled a shaky breath.

“So… you’re a wizard,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“And you’ve been hiding this from me the entire time we’ve known each other?”

“I was protecting you,” he said, his tone defensive. “The less you knew, the safer you were.”

She frowned, her gaze piercing. “Safe from what?”

“From the dangers of my world,” he replied. “Magic is not always a gift. It can be a burden—a dangerous one.”

Y/N shook her head, her expression softening. “Severus, I understand why you wanted to protect me. But don’t you think I deserve to know the truth? Especially if…” She hesitated, her voice faltering.

“If what?” he prompted.

“If I’m part of it too,” she said quietly.

Severus’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

She looked down at her hands, twisting them nervously. “I’ve always had… strange things happen around me. Things I couldn’t explain. I thought I was just unlucky or clumsy, but… after what you’ve told me, I don’t know anymore.”

He studied her carefully, his mind racing. He had suspected as much, but hearing her say it aloud confirmed what he had been reluctant to admit.

“Y/N,” he said slowly, “it is possible that you are not a muggle.”

Her eyes widened. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he continued, “that you may be a witch.”

___

The morning light filtered softly through the windows of Severus’s flat, illuminating the scattered remnants of the night before: a few spell books left open on the table, a candle burned low in its holder, and a single white feather resting in the middle of the room. Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, her brow furrowed in concentration as she waved a borrowed wand at the feather.

“Wingardium Leviosa,” she muttered, her tone deliberate.

The feather trembled slightly but refused to lift. Instead, it skidded a few inches across the wooden floor.

“Again,” Severus instructed from his chair, his tone calm but firm.

Y/N sighed, gripping the wand tighter. “I’ve said it at least twenty times. Why isn’t it working?”

“Because,” he replied, “you’re trying to force it. Magic requires control, yes, but also intention. You cannot simply will it into being. You must feel it, allow it to flow.”

She groaned, letting her head drop forward in frustration. “This is harder than it looks.”

Severus set down the book he’d been thumbing through and moved to sit beside her on the floor. His presence was steadying, his dark eyes watching her with an intensity that made her heart race.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice losing some of its usual edge, “no one masters magic overnight. Even the most talented witches and wizards stumble when they first begin.”

“But I can’t even levitate a feather,” she muttered, her tone tinged with disappointment.

“Progress is not measured by perfection,” he said, reaching out to gently tilt her chin so she was looking at him. “Every spell, no matter how small, is a step forward.”

She gave him a small, tentative smile, and he allowed himself a rare moment of softness, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Come,” he said, standing and offering her his hand. “Let’s try again.”

For the next hour, Y/N practiced under Severus’s watchful eye. Each attempt was met with either a subtle correction or a murmured word of encouragement. When she managed to lift the feather a few inches off the ground, she let out a triumphant laugh, her excitement lighting up the room.

“I did it!” she exclaimed, turning to Severus.

He allowed himself a small, approving smile. “Indeed, you did.”

Unable to contain her excitement, she threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him off balance. He stiffened for a moment before relaxing, his hands resting awkwardly on her back.

“You’re a surprisingly affectionate student,” he remarked dryly, though the faintest hint of amusement flickered in his eyes.

“And you’re a surprisingly patient teacher,” she shot back, grinning.

He shook his head, muttering something about ���foolishness,” but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, curving ever so slightly upward.

As the days turned into weeks, their lessons became a regular routine. Severus taught her simple spells first—lumos to light her wand, accio to summon objects, and even reparo to fix the various things she accidentally broke during her practice.

But not every lesson was smooth.

One rainy afternoon, Y/N was attempting to cast a cleaning charm on a spill she’d made. Instead of vanishing, the liquid exploded outward, splattering both her and Severus with tea.

She gasped, horrified. “Oh no! I’m so sorry, Severus!”

He stood there, dripping tea, his expression unreadable. For a moment, she thought he might be angry, but then he let out a deep sigh and flicked his wand, vanishing the mess in an instant.

“Perhaps,” he said, his tone dry, “we’ll revisit cleaning charms another day.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, and to her surprise, Severus’s lips twitched in response.

Despite her occasional missteps, Y/N’s progress was undeniable. With each successful spell, her confidence grew, and Severus found himself strangely proud of her determination.

One evening, as they practiced in the dim light of his study, Y/N managed to conjure a small stream of water from her wand. She let out a delighted laugh, her eyes sparkling as she turned to him.

“Did you see that?” she asked, beaming.

“I saw,” he replied, his voice quiet.

Her joy was infectious, and before she could stop herself, she leaned in and kissed him. It was a fleeting kiss, soft and full of gratitude, but it lingered between them like an unspoken promise.

When she pulled back, she looked at him nervously. “Was that okay?”

Severus’s dark eyes searched hers, and for a moment, she thought he might retreat behind his usual stoicism. But then he reached out, his hand cupping her cheek as he kissed her back—slowly, deliberately, as though he were committing the moment to memory.

When they finally parted, he rested his forehead against hers, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re remarkable, Y/N.”

Her heart swelled, and she smiled, brushing a strand of dark hair from his face. “So are you, Severus.”

The weeks passed in a blur of lessons, laughter, and quiet moments shared between spells. Y/N still struggled at times—her wand sometimes sparked unpredictably, and her frustration would boil over when a spell refused to cooperate. But Severus was always there, steady and patient, guiding her with a firm but gentle hand.

One evening, as they sat together by the fire, Y/N leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Do you think I’ll ever be good at this?” she asked softly.

Severus placed a hand over hers, his touch warm and reassuring. “You already are.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “You really believe that?”

“I do,” he said simply.

Y/N smiled, her doubts melting away under his steady gaze. For all his gruffness and guarded nature, Severus had a way of making her feel seen—truly seen.

And as she drifted off to sleep in his arms, she realized that magic, for all its wonder and mystery, was nothing compared to the love they had found in each other.

[washoping]

You're enough

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Emily Prentiss x reader

summary: You've had a really bad day, leaving you unable to get up and face the world. When Emily comes home from work to find you still in bed, she knows something deeper is wrong - and she won't let you go through it alone.

tags: fluff and angst, emotional hurt/comfort, mental health issues, self-esteem issues, depression, comfort

f/f │ 2.7k words │ ao3

a/n: another lil oneshot i wrote to get my own feelings out of my head, hopefully this will help and maybe bring comfort to some of you as well. please remember you're not alone <3 also, requests are welcome!

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The apartment was quiet, almost too quiet. It was the kind of silent that felt heavy and suffocating.  The only thing you could hear was the rhythmic pulse of the clock, its sound a cruel reminder of time passing. You were staring up at the ceiling, the grey evening light filtering weakly through the half-drawn blinds, casting a dull glow in the room. The day had been so long. Time had lost its meaning sometime after Emily had left for work. The hours had blurred together, morning to afternoon, afternoon to evening, leaving you feeling empty and making the day slip away without you.

You hadn’t moved from the comfort of your bed since Emily left that morning - maybe even longer. It felt like you were sinking, trapped underneath the weight of invisible hands pressing you into the mattress. You couldn’t explain why or how the day had ended up being like this. It just had. All you knew was that everything had felt off for you since the moment you opened your eyes, like the world was tilted off its axis. So you had stayed still, cocooned in the safety of your bed, even though it wasn’t truly safe. Not from yourself.

And then you heard the sound of the front door opening and closing echoing through the quiet apartment, pulling you from the void of your thoughts. Emily’s familiar, calm voice broke through the silence.

”Baby? I’m home!”

You heard her keys drop into the glass bowl on the counter, the rustle of her jacket being hung up on its hook, her kicking her shoes off. The sounds of normalcy. Something inside your chest ached at that. It didn’t bring the usual comfort. It was like you were stuck watching and hearing life happening in front of your eyes but between that and you there was a thick glass wall - so close, but completely unreachable.

You could tell by the tone of Emily’s voice that there was a little smile on her face. It nearly broke you. The easiness she used the pet name for you with, how happy she seemed to see you after a long day. She sounded so normal, as if nothing was wrong. She had no idea what she was walking into. You hated yourself for putting her through this.

You didn’t respond. One part of you wanted to get up to meet your girlfriend in the kitchen, to pretend everything was fine. That was something you were a professional in. But right now, your body felt heavy, your limbs didn’t want to cooperate. You didn’t have the energy to do so. The sheets around your body had become more like chains throughout the day, holding you in place with the weight of your exhaustion, both physical and emotional.

Another part of you hoped that the quietness and stillness in the apartment would keep her at a distance, just for a while longer. You needed her, your body yearned for comfort but you weren’t ready. You weren’t ready for her questions or to see the disappointed look in her eyes when she realized you weren’t feeling well. You weren’t ready for her to see you like this. Not today.

Emily’s footsteps padded down the hallway and instead of awakening the usual excitement inside you with them, you felt your anxiety deepen. You heard her knock lightly on the bedroom door before opening it. ”Babe?”

The door creaked a bit and you felt Emily’s presence before you saw her. She stood there for a moment, silent, taking in the sight of you still wrapped in bed like a lifeless figure beneath the covers. You pretended to be asleep. The room was dim and in the air there were faint traces of yesterday’s coffee that had long gone cold on the nightstand. You hadn’t even managed to open the blinds fully. It reduced the world outside to a narrow sliver of pale light that barely got in the room.

You heard Emily sigh. You were sure she was disappointed.

”Have you been in bed all day?” she asked, her voice soft but clearly laced with concern. There was something in her tone that made your chest tighten - a mix of worry and confusion probably, like she was trying to piece together what had happened in your world while she was gone for the day.

Once again, you didn’t answer. You just curled up tighter.

Emily walked towards you cautiously and you felt the mattress dip a little underneath you when she sat on the edge of the bed. You felt the warmth of her presence beside you but it only made you pull the blankets tighter around your body, like a shield. The fabric was rough against your skin from being tangled with you all day.

”Honey, talk to me”, Emily said and reached out, her hand brushing softly against your arm. Her touch was gentle but insistent. ”Did you get up at all? Have you eaten anything?”

”I’m just tired, Emily”, you whispered your weak excuse. The lie had barely left your lips before it felt hollow already, hanging heavy in the air between you. ”I just want to sleep, okay?”

The words felt wrong. The truth was that you didn’t even know what you wanted. Sleep seemed like an impossible task, but so did getting out of bed. Facing the world seemed the most daunting. What you needed was for everything to stop for a while so you could breathe.

Emily’s hand lingered on your arm, her thumb now brushing small circles against your skin in a soothing manner. You felt her hesitate a bit and a part of you wished she would stop. That she would just leave you alone to sink back into the void you’d been trying to disappear into the whole day. But another part of you, a more fragile part, longed for her to stay more than anything so she could pull you out of the darkness even though you felt like you didn’t deserve the help.

”Hey… come here”, she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing softly against the crown of your head.

You felt the mattress shift again as she tried to wrap her arms around you to pull you into her embrace, but you flinched, turning your body away from her. It stung. Your hand came up reflexively, pushing her away in a weak attempt to create some distance. It wasn’t that you didn’t want her comfort. You imagined the hurt look on her face just now after declining her embrace and it made you feel even worse. You wanted her comfort so bad but didn’t feel worthy of it.

”Okay, okay…” Emily’s voice was clearly filled with hurt now, the softness of it was disappearing. She sat back, giving you space, but you could feel the tension in the air as if she was waiting for an explanation - something to make sense of why you were acting like this.

”I told you”, you muttered, your voice cracking slightly as you tried your best to keep the flood of emotions in. You didn’t have the energy to let it out. ”I’m just tired. That’s all. I need to be alone for a bit.”

It wasn’t convincing at all. It all sounded like pure lies. You didn’t want to be alone. Being alone was what had gotten you here, spiraling deeper until you couldn’t breathe. But the part of letting her in and exposing this part of you to her was equally terrifying. What if she saw you like this and realized you weren’t worth it and that she couldn’t do this anymore?

You could feel the tears building again, your eyes burning from the hours you had spent crying alone in the dark. You bit your lips together, clenching your jaw, trying to hold back the wave of emotions that threatened to spill over. But Emily read you like a book. She wasn’t fooled.

”Look at me”, she whispered, gently but insistent on solving all of this. Her hand reached for your face and even though everything inside you screamed to pull away, to hide the shame and mess, you couldn’t. Your body betrayed you in the best way possible, frozen in the space between wanting both; to disappear and needing her to see all of you. So you let her fingers grab your chin and turn your head towards her.

Her gaze finally locked with yours properly for the first time after her coming home. The world seemed to still for a moment. Her expression shifted immediately the second her eyes met your eyes, red and blood-shot from all the crying. You saw so much love in hers, in the way she looked at you. It was almost unbearable.

”Oh baby…” she breathed, her thumb gently wiping away the tear that slipped down your cheek. So soft, so tender. ”Why didn’t you say anything?”

You couldn’t answer. The lump in your was too thick now, the shame too overwhelming. What would you even say? That you had spent the entire day trapped beneath the crushing weight of your own emotions, feeling like you were sinking into the bed, disappearing into the heaviness of it all? That each minute had felt like drowning, the weight pressing down on you until you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe?

How could you explain that the hopelessness clawing at your insides was so deep, so consuming that it had taken all your energy just to exist today? And that despite it all you still didn’t feel like you deserved to be here, in her arms, in her life even?

All that didn’t even begin to explain the depth of the hopelessness you felt.

Her thumb traced another tear away as her eyes searched for your face, more concerned now after not hearing you say anything.

”Please, talk to me”, she whispered, cracks in her voice showing her calmness cracking. ”What’s going on? I just want to help.”

Your breath hitched, the pressure in your chest building until it felt like you were about to break.

”I… I had a bad day.” Everything you wanted to say was stuck in your throat and your voice trembled. The words felt like they barely scratched the surface. ”I had a really bad day.”

Emily’s hand never left your cheek, her thumb still stroking your cheek softly. She didn’t push. She didn’t demand more than you could give. She gave you time and waited. She gave you space when you needed it.

”You were right. I didn’t… I didn’t get out of bed”, you finally admitted, your voice barely audible. You couldn’t look into her eyes while you spoke. ”I just stayed here, all day. I couldn’t… do anything. I’m so sorry.”

”Sorry for what?” Emily’s voice was soft. Her brows furrowed as she tried to understand. ”You don’t have to apologize for having a bad day, love. You should’ve told me in the morning, I would’ve stayed with you.”

The floodgates opened before you could stop them. The shame, the self-hate, it all spilled out of you harder this time. Your whole body trembled as you finally let go of some of the emotions you had been holding back all day, crying out the words you hadn’t let yourself say until now.

”I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you”, you sobbed now, voice thick with shame. ”I don’t deserve you. I’m a mess, Emily. Don’t you see? I’m a fucking mess and I don’t understand why you’re here. I don’t deserve your love. Not like this. I don’t even understand why you’re staying. Go.”

You thought this would be it - the moment where your words would push her away, too far, and she’d finally see you for what you truly were. She’d pull away, finally tired of the broken person she was holding. And she’d leave just like everyone else.

But she didn’t. She didn’t leave or pull away. Instead, Emily’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as if she could shield you from the darkness inside yourself. She held you so close you could feel her heartbeat, steady and strong against your own quick frantic pulse.

”Stop, please. Stop that right now”, she whispered. Her voice was thick with emotion, like she was about to cry too. ”You don’t have to be perfect for me to love you. You never have to be perfect. You’re enough just as you are. You’ve always been enough. What do I have to do to make you see that?”

Her words broke something inside you - something so deep, something you had buried a long time ago. The dam holding back your emotions finally shattered and you collapsed into her, your sobs shaking your entire body as you clung to her. Your tears dampened the fabric of her shirt but neither one of you cared at all. Emily’s arms didn’t falter as she held you closer than anyone had ever done before. Her hand stroked your hair gently, her lips pressed soft kisses on your temples. Her touch grounded you, keeping you from slipping away.

”I’m here”, she whispered softly into your hair, over and over again as if she hoped the more she said it the more of a chance she would have in making you believe it. ”I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Slowly but surely, thanks to Emily, your sobs quieted and were replaced by the sound of your ragged breathing. Your head rested against Emily’s chest as you listened to her steady heartbeat next to your ear. It brought you so much comfort, anchoring you from the darkness you’d been drowning in. She held you for a long time, not letting go.

When you finally pulled back and wiped your tear-streaked face you felt lighter. The suffocating weight inside your chest had lifted just enough for you to feel like you could take a full breath again. You wiped your teary eyes, ashamed of how vulnerable you felt.

”Do you really mean it?” you asked, your voice small and shaky with embarrassment. It felt like a stupid question to ask but you needed to hear her say it. To make sure. ”That… that I’m enough?”

Emily cupped your face and you were met with her dark eyes full of love, so full of certainty that you felt stupid for doubting her for even a second.

”I’ve never meant anything more, my love”, she promised you as her thumb traced your bottom lip gently. ”You’re stronger than you think. And even on your worst days, you still deserve to be loved. Actually, especially on those days.”

Tears welled up again in your eyes but this time they felt different. They weren’t the sharp, painful kind that came with the weight of your shame. They were softer, warmer, a mixture of relief and gratitude. Relief that Emily was still here, that she hadn’t pulled away, and gratitude for the unconditional love she offered you, even when you couldn’t offer it to yourself.

Her fingers brushed softly against your skin and you leaned into her touch, so drawn to the safety that radiated from her. For just a moment you allowed yourself to believe in her words. It was hard, so incredibly hard to accept that you were worthy of this love, but you tried. You tried to let her love fill the cracks your self-doubt had formed.

Emily leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss on your lips that were stained with the tears that she hadn’t caught while caressing your face with her thumbs. The familiar feel of her lips against yours made you smile a little, for the first time today. Emily smiled too.

”We’ll get through this together”, she murmured against your lips as she pressed her forehead against yours. ”You’re not alone, okay? I won’t let the darkness swallow you, I’ll be here to bring you back every time. I promise. I’m with you, always.”

Her words wrapped around you like a protective blanket and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe them. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to carry this burden on your own. Maybe you didn’t have to be perfect in order to deserve love. Emily was here, still here, even when you were at your lowest, even when you couldn’t love yourself.

And for now, that was enough. You were enough.

[ahqkas]

♯WICKED GAME ; tate langdon

PAIRING! tate langdon x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! the world was on fire and no one could save you but him

WORD COUNT! 2.3k

WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, angst, kissing, mention of tate’s past, reader is described to have hair

NOTES! the first song is ‘lavender moon’ by haroula rose , the second one is ‘wicked game’ by chris isaak . all credits to the pretty devider below belong to @menschenopfer !

THE LATE AFTERNOON SUN FILTERED THROUGH THE CRACKED BLINDS, casting golden streaks across your room. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, caught in the dying light. You were sprawled out on your bed, headphones in hand, scrolling through your playlist for something that matched the mood. Tate was beside you, perched on the edge of the bed, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He'd become a fixture in your life, as constant as the house itself, though infinitely more complicated.

You pressed play on a random song and handed him one of the earbuds. He took it without a word, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that sent a shiver up your arm. The touch was brief but electric, a reminder of the strange, magnetic pull that had drawn you to him from the start.

❛ White walls always weep

When I try to fall asleep

In this city by the sea

Walk the memories

Just me and the lavender moon

She knows

My heart belongs to you ❜

There was something about Tate — something dark and dangerous, but also deeply comforting. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to know what you were thinking before you said it, or the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world who truly mattered. It should have scared you, how easily he got under your skin, how effortlessly he'd slipped into your life and made himself at home. But it didn't. If anything, you welcomed it, welcomed him, because with Tate, you didn't have to pretend. You could just be.

❛ Filled with secrets like these

Haunted by long gone dreams

She bends down low

Walks me home

Just me and the lavender moon

She knows

My heart belongs to you ❜

The music played softly between you, the familiar rhythm of a song you'd heard a thousand times before. Tate closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall, and for a moment, you just watched him, taking in the sharp angles of his face, the way the fading light softened his features. He looked almost peaceful, like this was where he belonged — right here, beside you. Like an angel.

A few more songs passed in comfortable silence, the kind you'd grown to cherish with him. No need for words, no pressure to fill the quiet with meaningless chatter. Just the two of you, together, in a world that often felt too big and too empty.

❛ The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do ❜

You glanced at Tate through your lashes, wondering how he'd react to the song, but his expression remained unreadable, his eyes still closed as if lost in some distant memory.

It was impossible not to think of Tate when you heard those words. Impossible not to think of the way he'd become your world in such a short time, the way you were drawn to him despite the warnings in the back of your mind, the ones that whispered that this was dangerous, that Tate was dangerous. But you ignored them, like you always did, because nothing else mattered when he was around. Nothing else made sense without him.

You felt his gaze on you before you opened your eyes, a slow-burning intensity that made your heart skip a beat. When you finally looked at him, he was watching you with that familiar, unreadable expression — part longing, part sadness, all wrapped up in a kind of quiet desperation that tugged at something deep inside you.

"Do you think," he began, his voice hesitant, "it's wrong to want something you can't have?"

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implication. You knew what he was asking, what he wasn't saying. You knew him well enough by now to recognize the way he danced around the truth, always skirting the edges of it, never fully diving in. It was as if he was afraid that speaking it aloud would make it real, would make it hurt more.

Your throat tightened, and you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I think . . . we can't help what we want."

His eyes darkened, a shadow passing over his features, and for a moment, you thought he might look away, might retreat back into that guarded place where you couldn't follow. But he didn't. Instead, he leaned forward, closing the small distance between you, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"I want you," he said, the words raw and unfiltered, like they'd been torn from somewhere deep inside him.

You should have been shocked, maybe even scared. But you weren't. You'd felt this moment building between you for months, a sweet burn that you couldn't have stopped even if you wanted to. And you didn't want to. You wanted him too, even if you weren't ready to admit it, even if the thought of it terrified you.

Tate reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, and you leaned into his touch like a starved animal without thinking, without hesitation. His hand was cool, but the warmth in his eyes more than made up for it. He watched you with a kind of reverence, like you were something precious, something fragile that he was afraid to break.

"I know it's wrong," he continued, his voice trembling just slightly, "but I can't help it. You're . . . you're everything."

The music swelled, Chris Isaak's voice echoing through the room like a ghost. ❛ What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you . . . ❜

You reached up, covering his hand with yours, holding it against your cheek. The connection between you was undeniable, an invisible thread that pulled you closer even as your mind screamed at you to stop, to think about what you were doing, about what this meant.

But you couldn't stop. You didn't want to.

You were already hooked and Tate was the one reeling.

"Tate," you whispered, your voice shaking as much as his, "I want you too."

The admission hung in the air, a confession that felt both liberating and terrifying. Tate's eyes widened slightly, something unreadable flashing in their depths — hope, maybe, or fear, or something darker that you couldn't quite name. But whatever it was, it was enough to make him close the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was as soft as it was desperate.

It was a kiss that spoke of everything you both felt but couldn't say, a kiss that was filled with all the longing, all the fear, all the desire that had been building between you for so long. His hand tangled in your hair, his fingers tightening as if he was afraid you might disappear, might slip away like a dream.

But you didn't pull away. You kissed him back with everything you had, pouring all your confusion, your need, your want into that single, fragile moment. The world outside the room didn't exist — there was only Tate, only the way he made you feel, like you were the center of the universe, like nothing else mattered.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. The song was still playing, the final notes fading into silence, but neither of you moved to turn it off.

"I don't want to lose you," the boy whispered against your lips, his voice raw and vulnerable in a way you'd never heard before. "I can't lose you."

You squeezed his hand, trying to ignore the way your heart twisted at his words. "You won't. I'm here, Tate. I'm not going anywhere."

When you made the promise that day, you meant it.

Weeks after, you step into the room, the weight of the house pressing in on you like a too-tight garment. The air is thick with history, with secrets embedded in the wallpaper and worn into the grooves of the wooden floorboards. Every creak beneath your feet echoes in the silence, a reminder that this house is alive in ways it shouldn't be.

And then you see him.

Tate Langdon stands by the window, his silhouette framed against the dying light of the afternoon that reminded you of the old time all too well. The sun bleeds into the room, casting long shadows that stretch toward you, but they don't touch him. He's like a figure from another time, a ghost etched in shades of grey, all the life drained from him except for his eyes. Those eyes — honeyed and haunting — lock onto yours, and the world narrows until it's just the two of you, caught in this moment that feels like it could last forever.

You can't move. Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat a reminder of your own mortality. You wonder if he can hear it, if the sound cuts through the heavy silence that wraps around him like a shroud. His gaze is intense, unwavering, and it draws you in, pulls you closer despite the chill that crawls up your spine. You know you should be afraid — everything about him screams danger, from the way he stands too still, to the way he looks at you like he's trying to unravel all your secrets with a single glance.

But you aren't afraid. Not of him.

You've heard the stories from Moira a while ago, the whispered rumors about the boy who died too young, who left behind more than just memories. She said his spirit haunts this house, trapped in the echo of his own sins. But the boy standing before you now — he doesn't seem like a monster to you. Not really. He seems . . . lost. Like he's searching for something, or maybe someone, to bring him back to life, if only for a moment.

You step closer, drawn to him despite the voice in your head screaming for you to turn back, to leave this place and never return. But you can't. Something in his eyes, in the way he watches you, holds you captive. It's a wicked game, this dance between you — dangerous and intoxicating, with no clear end in sight.

He doesn't speak, but you feel the pull of his presence, the magnetic force that tugs at something deep inside you. You reach out, your hand trembling as it crosses the space between you. When your fingers brush against his, a shock runs through you, like touching ice and fire at the same time. You've never questioned the lack of warmth in his touch before. His skin is cold, too cold, but there's something warm in his touch, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

For a moment, the world around you fades. There's only him, only Tate, standing so close you can feel the faint whisper of his breath against your cheek. He's not like anyone you've ever met, not like anything you've ever known. He's darkness and sorrow and something else — something tender, hidden beneath layers of pain and regret. You feel it in the way his fingers tighten around yours, in the way his eyes search your face as if he's trying to memorize every detail.

You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't want this. But you do.

The song plays in your mind, a haunting melody that echoes in the empty spaces between your thoughts. ❛ No, I don't want to fall in love . . . ❜ It's a lie, you think, because you're already falling, slipping into the abyss with no way to stop yourself. There's no safety net, no promise of salvation, only the cold comfort of his presence and the unspoken connection between you.

Tate moves closer, his other hand lifting to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch is gentle, reverent, as though he's afraid you might be the one to disappear if he presses too hard. His gaze drifts to your lips, and you wonder if he's thinking the same thing you are — that you could close the distance between you with a kiss, that you could taste the darkness on his lips and make it your own again.

But you know better. You know this game is dangerous, that it can only end in heartbreak. And yet, as he leans in, you can't bring yourself to care. The world outside this room, outside this moment, doesn't matter anymore. There's only Tate, and the way he makes you feel — alive, despite the coldness of his touch, despite the fact that he isn't really alive at all.

It's ironic how a ghost can make you feel.

When his lips finally brush against yours, it's like a spark igniting in the darkness, a flame that burns bright and fast, consuming everything in its path. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as though he's afraid of what might happen if he lets go. But you can feel the desperation beneath it, the hunger in his actions.

And maybe that's what you want. To be drowned, to be consumed by him, by this feeling that defies logic and reason.

The kiss deepens, and you lose yourself in it, in him, until there's nothing left but the two of you, entwined in the darkness. You don't know how long it lasts — seconds, minutes, an eternity — but when you finally pull away, you're breathless, your heart racing in your chest. His eyes are still locked on yours, and you see something in them that takes your breath away. It's not just desire or longing — it's something more, something raw and real, something that terrifies you because you feel it too.

You're falling, and there's no one to catch you.

You're not dreaming. This is real, as real as anything else in this house, as real as the boy standing before you, a boy who's more ghost than flesh but who makes you feel more alive than anyone ever has.

And as you stand there, your hand still in his, you realize that you don't care about the consequences, about the danger, about the inevitability of heartbreak. Because in this moment, with Tate's cold fingers wrapped around yours and the memory of his kiss still lingering on your lips, it's all worth it.

Even if it's just a wicked game.

[aynavaano]

All I want is you

Hunter × f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3k

Summary: Hunter is used to sharing everything with his brothers and he is determined if this is what he has to do to get you he will do it. But deep down he can’t deny that he wants you all to himself.

Notes: Welp, I have no idea how my writers block ended in a sunday afternoon session with 3000 words but here we are. This fic is directly inspired by @stellarbit “Unexpected Scenes” (linked at the bottom) It was incredibly hot but all I could think about was poor Hunter just wanting to fuck. So here are 3k words of shameless and completely self indulgent Hunter smut. There is masturbation, stripping, oral/m recieving, unprotected sex/f on top and a hint of exhibitionism kink if you squint. Also, men that moan are hot and I will die on that hill. All my Hunter girlies, come get your man.

Hunter had always been used to sharing everything with his brothers-their victories, their losses, their rations, their ship and even sometimes their women. It was part of being a squad, part of their bond. He loved them, and he didn't mind the constant closeness, the way they worked as a unit. But then you walked into Cid's parlor one evening, and everything changed.

Somehow, you never left and quickly became an unexpected but perfect fit for their ragtag group. They needed the extra help, and you needed work-it was a simple arrangement at first.

What Hunter didn't expect was the effect you'd have on him. It started with the small things, like your soft smiles that seemed to light up the room, or the way you casually touched his arm when you talked, sending a jolt of warmth through him.

He wasn't used to someone outside of his brothers being so tactile, so... comfortable with him. But it was more than that. The way you fit into the squad so effortlessly, laughing at Wrecker's jokes, discussing tactics with Tech, or quietly listening to Echo's stories-it all drew him in.

And then there was your scent. That sweet, intoxicating smell that seemed to linger in the air whenever you were around. It was especially noticeable in close quarters on the Marauder, and Hunter, with his heightened senses, couldn't ignore it.

He tried to tell himself it was nothing, just a byproduct of the close quarters and the stress of the missions. But deep down, he knew better. The smell of your arousal when you were around them was unmistakable, and it drove him wild. He wanted you so badly, in ways he had never wanted anyone before. But he wasn't the only one. He noticed how Tech looked at you when he explained something in his usual precise manner, the way you and Wrecker leaned a little closer when he made you laugh, or the way your eyes lingered on Crosshair's sharp features and his on you when you were cleaning your gun. Hunter wasn't blind. He could see the way you interacted with each of them, and it killed him to think that he wasn't the only one you were drawn to.

He knew, deep down, that if he ever had a chance with you, he would have to share you with his brothers. It never mattered with any woman before but now it was a bitter pill to swallow. But the idea of having you all to himself, of not having to divide your attention, was a fantasy he allowed himself in the quiet moments. Moments like this.

The Marauder had docked a while ago, and the others including you had all gone inside Cid's parlor, eager for a brief respite and maybe a strong drink. But Hunter had stayed behind, needing some time alone, drowning himself in your scent that still filled the air. He had made himself comfortable in the pilot's seat, his thoughts wandering to you as they often did the last days. He imagined what it would be like to have you here with him, just the two of you. No brothers, no missions-just you.

His hand moved to the waistband of his pants almost unconsciously, the need to relieve the tension that had been building for weeks overwhelming him. As he stroked himself, he pictured your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you talked to him, the way you smelled when you were near. He imagined how it would feel to have you straddle him in this very chair, your bodies pressed together as you moved against him, your scent filling his senses, drowning him in desire.

He bit back a groan, his pace quickening as he imagined your soft moans in his ear, your hands running through his hair, your lips pressing against his neck. He wanted you so badly, more than he had ever wanted anything. But he also knew that it wasn't just desire. It was more than that. He cared about you deeply. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe, to make you happy. And if that meant sharing you with his brothers, then so be it. But in moments like this, when it was just him and his thoughts, he allowed himself to dream of a different reality, one where you were his and his alone.

His breath hitched as he felt himself getting closer, the image of you in his mind so vivid it almost felt real. He imagined your body arching beneath him, your lips parted in pleasure as you whispered his name. It was too much.

He felt the telltale signs of his climax approaching, his breathing growing ragged, his strokes becoming desperate. But just as he was about to reach that sweet point of no return, something pulled him out of his heated fantasies and yanked him back to reality-footsteps.

They were light, too light to be any of his brothers. Panic surged through him. It had to be you.

His heart pounded in his chest as he hastily tucked his cock back into his pants, his hands fumbling in a rush. He tried to remain silent, hoping that maybe you had just forgotten something on the ship and would leave without noticing him. But the footsteps grew closer, echoing up the ramp of the Marauder, and all hope of remaining hidden evaporated when he heard you call his name.

"Hunter?"

Your voice was soft, questioning, but with an edge of concern that made his gut twist.

He stayed silent for a moment, his mind racing, trying to think of an excuse, an explanation-anything that would cover up what he had been doing. But when you called for him again, a bit more insistently this time, he knew he couldn't avoid you any longer.

"I'm here," he finally answered, his voice sounding rough even to his own ears.

Before he could even try to compose himself, you appeared in the cockpit, your eyes scanning the small space until they landed on him. He could see your gaze travel over him, taking in his disheveled appearance-the flushed look on his face, his hair slightly tousled, the sweat beading on his forehead, the way his codpiece hung loose on one side, and the unmistakable bulge still straining against his pants.

Your eyes widened but he saw you bite your lip for a split second, your control slipping ever so slightly. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension in the air thick and palpable.

"I - I'm sorry" you stuttered, your cheeks flushing as you averted your gaze, clearly flustered.

"I just... I wanted to check on you. You seemed distracted the last few days, and I was worried, but-"

You gestured vaguely, looking back at him with an awkward smile.

"I'll leave. I didn't mean to invade your privacy."

Hunter noticed the way your eyes flickered to the bulge in his pants again before you quickly looked away. His mind was a whirl of conflicting emotions - embarrassment, confusion, but also an undeniable surge of desire. You turned to leave, clearly intent on giving him space, but something in him couldn't let you go.

"Wait," he blurted out, his voice stopping you in your tracks.

You turned back, looking at him with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

"Stay?" he asked, the words leaving his mouth before he could fully process them.

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implication. Hunter watched as your eyes met his, searching for something in his gaze. He could see the hesitation in your expression, but also something else - a flicker of interest, maybe even a hint of desire. Your lips parted as if you were about to say something, but no words came out.

Hunter stood up, the weight of what was happening between you hanging in the air, his heart raced. The reality of the situation settled over him, making the air feel thick with anticipation. He knew this was a dangerous line he was about to cross, one that could change everything between you. But the thought of turning back now, of denying the connection that had been simmering between you for so long, felt impossible.

"Come here," he said softly, motioning for you to step closer.

You hesitated for only a second before you obeyed, your movements cautious but deliberate. As you approached, Hunter couldn't help but notice the way your breathing had quickened, your chest rising and falling a bit more rapidly, mirroring his own rising anticipation.

When you were close enough, he reached out, his hand brushing against your arm.

The contact sent a jolt through both of you, and Hunter could feel the tremor in your muscles, the same tension he felt coursing through his own body.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering to his lips, then down to the still evident bulge in his pants and back up to meet his eyes. There was a vulnerability in his gaze, but also a desire that matched your own.

You took a deep breath, as if steeling yourself for what was to come, and then you leaned in. The kiss you pressed to his lips was tentative at first, testing the waters, but when Hunter responded, pulling you closer, it deepened, turning into something more heated, more desperate. It was a kiss that spoke of all the unspoken words, the longing that had been building between you for so long.

Hunter's hands moved up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he tilted your head to deepen the kiss. He could taste the sweetness of your lips, feel the warmth of your body pressed against his. And for a moment, all the doubts and fears melted away, leaving only the two of you and the intensity of the moment.

But when the kiss finally broke, leaving you both breathless, Hunter couldn’t think clear anymore, he wasn't sure where this would lead, or how things would change between you and the squad, but right now, he didn't care. All he knew was that he wanted you here, now, and for as long as you would have him.

You leaned in, capturing his lips again in a heated kiss, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. He groaned into the kiss, his hands finding your waist, holding you tight against him.

"I want you," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and husky, full of desire.

"But I know... I’ll have to share you with my brothers."

You pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes with a soft smile.

"You're a sweet, silly man Hunter," you whispered, your fingers brushing against his jaw.

Before he could respond, you pushed him back into the pilot's chair, straddling him with a confident ease that made his heart race.

You ground down on him, your hips rolling against his and your core pressing against his bulge. You felt your panties were already soaking wet.

Your breath was hot against his ear as you leaned in to whisper,

"All I want is you." as you ground down again.

The moan that escaped him was deep and sinful, the sound of it making your core tighten with anticipation. You could feel how hard he was beneath you, the thickness of his cock pressing against your core through the fabric of his pants. You wanted more - needed more.

You let yourself slide down between his knees and looked up at him through your lashes, your hands moving up his thighs and over his bulge. Hunter's breath hitched as you freed him from his confines, his cock springing out, thick and beautiful. The soft caramel tone of his skin glowing in the last rays of light that came in through the viewport.

You licked your lips at the sight, your mouth watering in anticipation.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," you murmured, wrapping your hand around his length, giving him a few slow, deliberate pumps that made him groan.

"I've wanted to taste you for so long."

"Stars, cyar'ika," Hunter breathed, his hands gripping the arms of the chair as he watched you.

You leaned in, your tongue flicking out to lick the tip, tasting the bead of pre-cum that had gathered there and oh did he taste heavenly. His whole body shuddered at the sensation, his head falling back against the seat. You took him into your mouth, inch by inch, savoring the way he filled you, the taste of him driving you wild.

Hunter's moans grew louder, his breathing more ragged as you worked him with your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head, your hand pumping the base in time with your movements. You could feel him tensing beneath you, his thighs trembling as he got closer and closer to the edge and the lewd moans falling from his lips were the sweetest sound.

But just as he was about to tip over, you pulled back, releasing him with a soft pop.

Hunter's eyes snapped open, and he looked down at you with a mixture of frustration and desperate need, beeing so close to his orgasm for the second time.

He let out a low whine at the loss of your warm mouth.

"Don’t worry, I'm not done with you yet," you said with a teasing smile.

You stood up, taking a few steps back to give him a full view of you.

Slowly, deliberately, you began to undress yourself, peeling off each piece of clothing and letting it fall to the floor. Hunter's eyes were glued to you, his gaze dark with desire, his cock twitching at the sight of your bare skin and he was barely holding on, barely keeping himself from coming then and there.

When you were completely naked, you took a moment to let him drink you in, your body exposed and vulnerable but feeling powerful under his intense gaze. Hunter looked like he was about to lose control, his knuckles white from how tightly he was gripping the armrests.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice full of awe but laced with a need that was almost desperate.

"So soft... I want to feel every inch of you."

He had lost count of how often he imagined you like this, your glowing skin, the soft swell of your breasts, the curves of your hips he wanted to grip so hard he would leave bruises, but nothing came close to the reality and he was sure he was loosing his mind.

You moved back to him, straddling his lap once more. His hands were on you immediately, caressing your thighs, your hips, your waist, as you positioned yourself above him.

And with a long, drawn-out moan, you slowly sank down onto him, feeling the stretch as he filled you completely.

Hunter's head fell back with a groan when he was sheathed fully inside you, the warmth and tightness of your body overwhelming his senses. You stayed like this for a moment, just feeling each other, the connection between you so deep and intense it was almost too much.

"Feels so good" you murmured, your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you began to move.

You started riding him, your hips rolling and grinding in a rhythm that had him seeing stars. His hands moved to your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Hunter's gaze was fixed on you, watching the way your breasts bounced with each movement, the way your face twisted in pleasure.

His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles that made your mind go blank and drowned out everything but him.

You threw your head back, a moan ripping from your throat as the pleasure built and built until you couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Hunter, if you keep doing that I’m going to come», you panted, your movements becoming more erratic as the coil inside you tightened.

"Come for me, cyar'ika,"

Hunter urged, his voice strained, his own control slipping as he felt you tightening around him.

"Let me feel you come around me, come on my cock."

That was all it took. You cried out his name, your nails digging into his back and your body spasming around him as the orgasm ripped through you, wave after wave of intense pleasure that left you trembling in his arms. Hunter was right there with you, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you through it as he buried himself deeper inside you.

You were still riding the aftershocks of your orgasm when you leaned down, pressing your forehead against his.

"Hunter, I want you to come inside me," you whispered, your breath warm against his lips.

"Please, Hunter, make me yours."

He groaned at your words, his hands moving to grip your ass as he thrust up into you with renewed intensity. His breath came in harsh pants, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own release.

And then, with a low, guttural moan of your name, he came, gripping you tight and spilling himself deep inside you. You could feel the warmth of his release filling you, the sensation only prolonging your pleasure as you clenched around him, milking him for every drop.

You stayed like that for a moment, both of you breathless and spent, your sweaty bodies clinging to each other in the aftermath. Hunter's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he buried his face in your neck, breathing in your scent.

"That was.." Hunter trailed off, unable to find the words.

"Incredible," you finished for him, your lips brushing against his ear as you nuzzled closer.

You both stayed there for a few moments longer, your hearts slowly returning to a normal rhythm, your breaths evening out. It felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the connection between you stronger than ever.

Hunter glanced over your shoulder, his eyes catching onto the intercom panel, it was still blinking, switched on. He immediately knew, if any of his brothers had their helmets on they heard everything that happened inside the ship. He looked back at you, his expression softening as he brought a hand up to cup your cheek.

"Say what you said earlier, if you meant it" he murmured, his voice low and full of unspoken need.

You looked into his eyes, understanding immediately what he was asking for. Your lips curved into a soft smile as you leaned closer, brushing your nose against his.

"I want only you," you whispered, your words filled with sincerity.

Hunter’s eyes darkened with emotion, his grip on you tightening slightly as he pulled you closer.

"Say you’re mine," he breathed, his voice almost pleading, like he needed to hear it, needed to claim you in the most profound way.

Your heart fluttered at the intensity in his gaze, and you pressed your forehead against his, your voice steady and full of conviction.

"I’m yours, Hunter. Yours."

He let out a deep sigh, a sound of pure contentment, as if your words had lifted a weight from his shoulders. His eyes flicked to the blinking intercom one last time, a slow smile spreading across his lips before he pulled you even closer, his lips finding yours in a deep, lingering kiss.

The kiss was full of everything you had just promised each other—of possession, desire, and an overwhelming sense of belonging. Hunter kissed you like he never wanted to let you go, and you responded with equal intensity, melting into him as your bodies pressed together, hearts beating in sync.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Oh Oh what about 'H-how long have you been standing there?' Canon(-adjacent) Hurt/Comfort and Book? this list is actually so interesting there's so many good combinations

Thank you so much, it's been lots of fun seeing which combinations ppl picked and coming up with different story ideas. Hope you enjoy this one. 💖

True love's kiss

Rated: G

Words: 995

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington; Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson; Steve has migraines; Hurt/comfort; Love confessions

Eddie finds out by accident. It's one of the last days of summer, and the air has a sticky heaviness to it. He just wants to pick up some stuff he forgot after last night's campaign. Steve isn’t home, he knows for a fact. So what if he memorized his shift plan? It's perfectly normal, most definitely not a sign of obsession or codependency. 

Anyway, the point is, Steve isn't home, so Eddie doesn't ring, just lets himself in and marches into the living room. And that's where his plans for the afternoon derail. 

Steve is on the sofa in front of the television. Eddie's swoop of surprise is short-lived, however, because he isn't watching a movie or game. 

The tv isn't on at all. The entire house is deadly quiet. The blinds on the windows are drawn and the air conditioning is on, the room dark and cold.

Steve is buried in the pillows. His shoulders are shaking. 

“Stevie?” Eddie blurts. “What happened?” 

“Eddie?” Steve croaks. One eye pokes out from the pillows, bleary and horrified. “I- … H-how long have you been standing there?” 

Eddie doesn’t answer. He has already bridged the distance and is sinking down on the armrest by Steve’s head.

Steve sees the concern on his face and groans. “I'm fine. It's just … fucking headaches, don't worry.” 

But Eddie does worry. Eddie is freaking out, which is only natural given their shared history. He makes a horrified sound, shooting up to grab the walkie from Steve’s room and call a code red. 

“No, wait,” Steve says, holding him back with one shaky hand to his wrist. “‘s not anything supernatural. I mean they’ve gotten worse, after everything, but that's probably ‘cause I took a few hits too many. I've always had ‘em. Ever since I was a kid.” 

Eddie lets that statement trickle in. 

“Oh,” he then breathes, sitting back down and gesturing at the dark room. “You mean migraines?” 

Steve, who has thrown one arm over his face, peers out at him. 

“How d’you …?” 

Eddie shrugs sheepishly. “My mom used to get them, before …” 

He trails off, lost in the memory, fingers grasping to fiddle with something. He only realizes where they've landed when they start scratching at Steve's scalp, and a noise spills from his chest. Eddie flinches, stomach alive with an entire whirlwind of butterfly wings, and makes to pull back his hand. 

“No,” Steve mumbles. He's pale, but some of the tension has bled from his features. His voice is slurred. “Don't stop. Feels good.” 

And who is Eddie to deny him? 

Nodding, he slides off the armrest to sit more comfortably, pulling Steve’s head into his lap to rub soothing circles into his temples. He only notices the book lying on Steve’s stomach when it gets jostled by the motion and almost tumbles to the floor. 

“Hey, what’s this?” Eddie mutters, flipping it over to inspect the cover. “Fairytales?” 

Steve takes a few moments to reply, and in the low light, Eddie imagines he sees two pink splotches bloom high in his cheekbones. 

“My nanny used to read ‘em to me when I was sick. I was tryna, but … the fuckin’ letters keep moving.” 

“I'll read you one.” 

Another blink of those pretty eyes, pupils fuzzy and unfocused. “Really?” 

“Sure,” Eddie nods, reveling in the smile he gets when he flips the book open. “Let’s see … Once upon a time, there was a king. He was beautiful and kind and brave, and everybody in the realm loved him dearly. But the king was cursed. He-”

“Wait,” Steve mutters. His lids flutter as he struggles to stay awake. “I don’t- … Which one is this?” 

“My favorite,” Eddie replies. “Now hush, you’re supposed to be resting. Where was I? … The king had been befallen by an evil curse. He couldn’t love himself. He slaughtered many a beast, fought countless battles, hoping to prove his own worth to himself, but nothing lifted the shadow looming over him.” 

Eddie turns a page, crinkling his brow in thought. 

Steve stifles a yawn. His head is getting heavier in Eddie’s lap. “Then what happened?” 

“Patience, I was getting to it,” Eddie scolds. “One day, a new jester arrived at the court. He was skeptical, having heard grand tales of the young king’s beauty and good heart, never quite believing them. Yet, the second he beheld the king with his own eyes, he was enraptured, and he vowed to-”  

“En-whatchered?” 

“Enraptured, Stevie,” Eddie sighs, setting the book aside in favor of combing his fingers through Steve’s hair again. “Smitten, enchanted, lovestruck.” 

“Pffff,” Steve makes. “Love at first sight ain't real.” 

Eddie scoffs half-heartedly. “It's a fairytale. It's not supposed to be realistic. And besides, I'm only telling it, not making it up.” 

“Oh yeah,” Steve says. If his eyes were open, he'd be rolling them right now. “Obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Eddie agrees, and losing himself for a moment in the lines and angles of Steve’s face, the feel of his hair between his fingers. 

“How does it end?” 

Eddie blinks. “Huh?” 

“The story, silly,” Steve mutters. “How does the jester save the king?”  

“Who said he does?” 

Steve sighs, satisfied and exhausted. “‘s a fairytale. Gotta have a happy ending.” 

Eddie shrugs. “Fair enough. What d’you think he should do?” 

Steve stays silent for a long moment. Eddie is starting to think he fell asleep when he speaks again, so softly it's nearly lost under the rush of the air conditioning. 

“How ‘bout a kiss?” 

“Ah,” Eddie says around the lump forming in his throat. “Good one. Can't go wrong with true love's kiss.” 

Steve hums in agreement. 

“After the king sleeps, though.” His hand finds Eddie’s, interlacing their fingers. “Waited so long for this. Wanna do it without a headache.” 

Eddie is left in the dark, listening as Steve’s breathing evens out, wondering how much of their conversation he'll recall when he wakes up. 

More celebration ficlets

[gyorouis]

𐙚 YOU'LL BE SAFE HERE.

— "when nobody hears you scream, i'll scream with you. you'll be safe here."

genre: heavy angst, fluff in the end (?), strangers (not totally for yj) to potential lovers trope (?),

pairing: coworker/blockmate!yeonjun x afab!reader

warning: mentions of domestic abuse from parents, bullying, self-sabotage, mentions of blood and bruises, mentions of smoking (?), let me know if i forgot anything!

wordcount: 6.4k

now playing: rico blanco — you'll be safe here ୨ৎ

for the most part of your twenty-two years of existence on this very earth, you have learned to endure the bittersweet taste of your life. that includes the nonstop arguments with your parents that would either leave you crying to sleep or wiping the blood from your lips, blood drawn from the hands of your beloved parents, hands that were supposed to comfort you.

school wasn’t any better. the bullying began early, with taunts and whispers that followed you through the hallways. you remember the time in the third grade when a group of kids cornered you, laughing as they ripped your favorite book apart, the one place you found solace. the teachers did little to help, often turning a blind eye to the cruelty. you learned quickly that showing weakness only made things worse.

by high school, you had built walls so high around your heart that not even the most persistent could scale them. you stopped trying to make friends, opting instead to lose yourself in your studies and books. relationships, you told yourself, were for people who hadn’t seen the dark side of those they were supposed to trust. your classmates went on dates, talked about their crushes, and shared stories of first kisses, but you could never relate. love, you decided, was a fairytale for others.

even the few times someone showed interest in you, you found a way to push them away. there was that boy in sophomore year who left a note in your locker, asking you to the winter dance. you tore it up before even reading the whole thing, terrified of what might happen if you let someone in. the idea of being vulnerable, of giving someone the power to hurt you, was something you couldn’t bear.

college was a chance to escape, or so you hoped. moving to a new city for your studies, you thought distance might dull the pain of your past. yet, the ghosts followed you. you watched as your roommates fell in and out of love, experiencing the highs and lows that came with it. you remained on the sidelines, an observer in a world that felt alien to you.

your internships provided a distraction, the only place where you felt you could control your destiny. it was during one of these internships that you met choi yeonjun. he was a stranger, yet not totally. you worked in the same company, though you were sure you hadn’t seen him before. it was a rainy afternoon, during your lunch break, when you first met him. it was during a time when you were bawling your eyes out after yet another argument with your mom over the phone.

seeking peace, you found yourself on the rooftop. the gray sky hung heavy with clouds, and raindrops drummed a steady rhythm on the rooftop. the air was thick with the scent of wet concrete and the faint aroma of cigarette smoke. yeonjun was there, leaning against the railing, smoking and sipping coffee, not minding your wails. well, not totally. he just acted like he wasn't there because he knew that you didn't know someone was up there when you burst in. besides, this was the only time he had seen you having real human emotion. because he often saw you with a poker face. you would smile at your co-workers, but as he observed you daily, he knew those smiles were fake.

he stayed there for a good couple of minutes, watching you break down. your shoulders shook with sobs, and tears streamed down your face, mingling with the rain. he figured it was better to let you cry instead of ruining your moment.

it couldn’t be because you were scolded by your superiors, because yeonjun knew that you excelled in this internship. you were the top student of your batch, after all. he figured it was something deeper.

yeonjun’s mind drifted back to the first time he saw you during freshman year. it was a hectic morning, and he had been rushing to class when he nearly collided with you in the hallway. you were running, your expression one of focused determination as you clutched your books tightly against your chest. he remembered how you had apologized in a breathless rush before darting away. it was in that fleeting moment that he realized you were from the same class.

since then, he found himself intrigued by you. he started paying more attention during classes, watching you as you sat at your desk, absorbed in your work. he noticed how you were always the first to arrive and the last to leave, and how you would quietly, but confidently, engage with the material.

he sometimes hoped you’d glance his way, but you were always so wrapped up in your own world. even in the cafeteria or during coffee breaks, he found himself seeking you out, hoping for a glimpse of your smile or a chance to strike up a conversation.

thinking about what could be the reason why you are crying, he grabbed his handkerchief from his trouser pocket before tossing his cigarette on the ground and stepping on it. just then, he walked over to you.

you wiped the remaining tears from your eyes with your hands as you exhaled a deep breath. "my mom told me once, it's better to talk to strangers because it's less embarrassing." you jolted when you suddenly heard the voice of a man, probably a foot away from you.

you looked beside you to see who it was. you saw a man with a sharp, angular face, defined cheekbones, and a well-defined jawline. his hair was styled in a medium-length, slightly tousled manner, with dark strands framing his face. his straight eyebrows framed calm, contemplative eyes that held a hint of curiosity. dressed in a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves and a black tie, paired with black pants, he exuded a casual yet polished look. but you noticed one thing: he reeked of cigarette.

"who are you?" you asked, your voice shaky. he scoffed lightly. "at least accept my handkerchief first," he said. your eyes landed on his extended hand holding out a blue handkerchief. you looked at him one last time before taking the handkerchief and started wiping your tears.

"i'm yeonjun, choi yeonjun." that name rang a bell. you often heard that name when your colleagues talked about this hard-headed intern who was always late. though you heard he was skillful and passionate about his work, you always heard bad things about that guy named yeonjun.

"you're the stubborn intern," you said. he chuckled to himself, a soft, warm sound that contrasted with the cold rain. "hey, that's too much.." he said, sipping the last of his coffee before tossing the cup into the nearest trashcan.

"did you hear anything?" you asked. to be honest, you weren't afraid of showing your vulnerable side, it's just that you wanted to keep the problem to yourself. "no, i could only hear your wailing," he said with a straight face.

"have you been scolded?" he asked. "why do you ask?" you answered.

"just because..." he said, his voice trailing off as he gazed out over the city, shrouded in mist and rain.

a moment of silence stretched between you two, filled only by the sound of raindrops hitting the rooftop and the distant hum of the city below. yeonjun leaned against the railing, seemingly lost in thought. you couldn’t help but wonder why he was there, offering comfort to a stranger.

“you know,” he began, breaking the silence, “sometimes it helps to talk about what’s bothering you. even if it’s just to a stubborn intern.”

you let out a small laugh despite yourself. “i don’t know where to start,” you admitted, looking down at the handkerchief clutched in your hand, now damp from both your tears and the rain.

“start anywhere,” he encouraged. “i’ll listen.”

taking a deep breath, you started to speak. the words came haltingly at first, but soon they flowed out in a torrent. you told him about the constant arguments with your parents, the pressure to excel, the bullying you faced in school, and the loneliness that seemed to follow you everywhere. you spoke of your fear of letting people in, of being hurt again, and of the walls you had built around yourself.

as you spoke, yeonjun’s eyes never left your face. his gaze was steady and unwavering, offering a kind of silent support. the rain continued to fall, softening into a gentle drizzle, the droplets creating a soothing backdrop to your words.

when you finished, he didn’t offer empty reassurances or try to minimize your pain. instead, he simply said, “i’m sorry you had to go through all that. no one deserves to feel that way.”

“thank you,” you whispered, feeling a strange sense of relief. it wasn’t that your problems were solved, but sharing them with someone, even a stranger, made them feel a little less heavy.

“you’re stronger than you think,” yeonjun continued. “and it’s okay to let people in. not everyone will hurt you.”

you nodded, though a part of you still doubted his words. but there was something about yeonjun’s calm presence that made you want to believe him, to take a chance, even if it was just a small one.

as the rain began to lighten, yeonjun stood up. “i should get back to work,” he said, offering you a gentle smile. “but if you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

“thank you, yeonjun,” you said sincerely, feeling a glimmer of hope. maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

the days that followed your encounter with yeonjun were filled with a strange mix of anticipation and apprehension. you found yourself looking for him during breaks, curious to see if he would approach you again. each time you spotted him in the office, a flicker of hope ignited within you, only to be quickly smothered by doubt.

one afternoon, while you were engrossed in your work, a shadow fell over your desk. you looked up to find yeonjun standing there, a tentative smile on his face. “fancy seeing you here,” he said, his tone light.

“this is my desk,” you replied, unable to suppress a smile of your own.

“right,” he said, chuckling. “i just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“i’m fine,” you said, feeling a warmth spread through you at his concern. “thank you for the other day.”

“anytime,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “how about grabbing a coffee later?”

the idea of spending time with yeonjun outside of work both excited and terrified you. but something in his gaze reassured you, made you want to take a chance. “okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

as you and yeonjun sat in a cozy corner of a nearby café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped you. the atmosphere was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold, rainy rooftop where you first met. you found yourself relaxing in his presence, the conversation flowing more easily than you had expected.

“so, tell me more about yourself,” yeonjun said, leaning forward with genuine interest. “what do you like to do outside of work?”

“i read a lot,” you admitted, feeling a bit shy. “books have always been my escape.”

“i can understand that,” he said, nodding. “i’m more into music. it’s my way of dealing with things.”

“do you play any instruments?” you asked, intrigued.

“guitar,” he said, a fond smile crossing his face. “it’s like therapy for me.”

as you continued to talk, you realized that yeonjun wasn’t just a stubborn intern. he was someone with depth, with his own struggles and passions. the more you learned about him, the more you felt your walls begin to crumble.

as the evening wore on, you and yeonjun decided to leave the place and take a walk through the nearby neighborhood. the streets were lined with small shops and cafes, their warm lights spilling onto the sidewalk, creating a cozy, inviting atmosphere. the soft glow of the lights, coupled with the gentle hum of conversation and the occasional laughter from patrons inside the cafes, made the whole scene feel almost magical.

“do you have a favorite book?” yeonjun asked, glancing at you as you strolled past a quaint bookstore. his voice was warm, genuinely curious, and it made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

“it’s hard to choose just one,” you said, smiling. this was the first time someone had asked something about you, the first time that someone made you think about what you really liked and what your interests are. “but if i had to pick, it would be ‘the little prince.’ it’s always been special to me.”

“i love that one too,” he replied, his eyes lighting up with recognition and shared appreciation. “it’s such a beautiful story about love and loss.”

you walked in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the sights and sounds of the evening. the air was cool and refreshing, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming flowers and the distant aroma of coffee. eventually, you found yourselves outside a small ice cream parlor. yeonjun turned to you, his eyes playful and filled with a youthful excitement.

“how about some ice cream?” he suggested. “my treat.”

you laughed, feeling a lightness you hadn’t experienced in a long time. “sure, why not?”

inside the parlor, you both chose your favorite flavors and sat by the window, watching the world go by. the place was charming, with vintage decor and soft jazz playing in the background. yeonjun took a bite of his ice cream and grinned at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief and sincerity.

“so, what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but never had the chance?” he asked, genuinely curious, leaning forward slightly to hear your answer.

you thought for a moment, then replied, “i’ve always wanted to travel. see new places, experience different cultures. but i never really had the opportunity.”

“maybe someday you will,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet determination. “and when you do, i hope you’ll have someone to share those experiences with.”

you looked at him, your heart swelling with emotion. the more time you spent with yeonjun, the more you began to believe that maybe, just maybe, happiness was within reach. he had a way of making you feel understood and valued, something you had longed for but never thought you deserved.

as you finished your ice cream and continued talking, you realized that this simple evening was one of the best you’d had in a long time. the conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on dreams, fears, and little moments of joy. yeonjun’s presence was a soothing balm to your weary soul, and for the first time in years, you felt a flicker of hope.

as the night deepened, you walked side by side back towards your apartment. the city had taken on a different feel, its usual hustle and bustle replaced by a serene calm. you felt a connection to yeonjun that was undeniable, a bond that was growing stronger with each passing moment.

“thank you for tonight,” you said softly as you reached your building. “it meant a lot to me.”

“anytime,” he replied, his smile gentle and reassuring. 

with that, you parted ways, but the warmth of his words and the memory of the evening lingered. as you lay in bed that night, you couldn’t help but replay the moments in your mind. 

for the first time, that evening, you drifted off to sleep with a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in years.

over the next few weeks, your interactions with yeonjun became more frequent. you found yourself looking forward to your lunch breaks and coffee runs, each meeting chipping away at the barriers you had built around your heart. yeonjun had a way of making you feel seen, he made you feel like he could help you mend the damages that your life had put you through.

this was the first time you felt this kind of warmth, something you knew you wouldn't get from your parents. he was like a hot coffee on a cold, rainy night, the umbrella shielding you from the scorching summer sun, and the blooming flower tree offering shade on a humid afternoon.

as the days turned into weeks, you noticed a shift within yourself. the cold, hardened exterior you had carefully constructed began to thaw, bit by bit, under yeonjun’s gentle persistence. he never pushed too hard or demanded too much; he was simply there, a constant presence that brought comfort and solace.

one particularly rainy evening, you found yourself alone in the office, the steady patter of rain against the windows echoing the tumultuous emotions within you. you had stayed late to finish a project, but your mind kept drifting to yeonjun and the way he had slowly become a part of your life. just as you were about to pack up and leave, the elevator doors opened, and yeonjun stepped out, a familiar smile on his face.

“working late again?” he asked, walking over to your desk.

“yeah, just finishing up some things,” you replied, your heart lifting at the sight of him.

“want some company for the walk home?” he offered, holding up an umbrella.

you nodded, grateful for the offer. as you both made your way outside, the rain continued to fall in a soft, steady rhythm. yeonjun held the umbrella over both of you, his shoulder brushing against yours as you walked side by side. the city lights reflected off the wet pavement, casting a shimmering glow that made everything feel almost magical.

“you know,” yeonjun began, his voice cutting through the sound of the rain, “i’ve been thinking about what you said that day on the rooftop. about how you’re scared to let people in.”

you glanced at him, your heart racing. “yeah?”

“i just want you to know that it’s okay to be scared,” he continued, his gaze steady and reassuring. “but you don’t have to go through everything alone. you have people who care about you. i care about you.”

you wanted to say something, you really did, but you felt like it might be too rushed for both of you, especially for yourself. you knew you had a lot to fix within yourself, issues that you were afraid to confront now. so instead, you looked at him, stopping in your tracks. “thank you, yeonjun,” you said, your smile genuine and soft.

his eyes lit up at the sight of your smile. “it suits you,” he said, a warm smile tugging at his lips. “what?” you asked, a little taken aback.

“your smile,” he clarified, “it suits you. you look beautiful when you smile.”

you felt a blush creep up your cheeks at his compliment. the simple words seemed to light up the gray evening even more, making the rain feel less heavy and the world a little brighter.

you stand in front of the apartment complex, the rain now a mere drizzle. “i’m good here. i’ll see you tomorrow,” you say, giving yeonjun a small smile.

before you can enter, yeonjun tugs at your sleeve. “do you mind giving me your number?” he asks, holding out his phone with a hopeful expression.

you chuckle softly and type your number into his phone. “there,” you say, handing it back to him.

he lets go of your hand, a shy smile spreading across his face. “thanks,” he says, his voice warm. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

you nod and wave him goodbye before turning to enter the building. but just as you’re about to step inside, you’re startled by the presence of a middle-aged woman standing in the dim hallway. her face is almost a mirror image of your own, and her eyebrows are furrowed in a disapproving scowl.

“who’s that?” she demands, her voice sharp and accusing.

you freeze, your heart sinking. it’s your mother, the very person you’ve been avoiding. she must have seen you with yeonjun and decided to confront you.

the atmosphere is thick with tension as you step into your apartment, your mother following close behind. the door clicks shut, sealing you both in the small, dimly lit space.

“why are you here? what do you need?” you ask bluntly, your frustration bubbling to the surface.

your mother’s eyes narrow, her expression hardening. “i came to see how you’re doing,” she says, her voice carrying a tone of anger and disappointment. “and I see you’ve been spending time with someone who doesn’t fit our expectations. who is he?”

you freeze, feeling the sting of her words. “he’s just a friend,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “why does it matter to you?”

“it matters because you don’t need distractions,” she snaps. “you should be focusing on your responsibilities, not on... this.”

the heat of the argument builds, and you can’t help but feel a surge of anger. “i’m managing just fine,” you say, your voice rising. “i’m not a child anymore. i can make my own choices.”

“you think you know everything,” your mother retorts, her voice rising with each word. “you think you’re so mature, but you’re just a spoiled little girl who doesn’t understand anything about life.”

her words cut deep, but before you can respond, she takes a step closer, her face inches from yours. “you think you can just throw away everything we’ve done for you?” she hisses. “you’re ungrateful and selfish. you are just confused, you don’t need love, you don’t deserve it.”

“i’m not ungrateful,” you shoot back, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes. “i’m just trying to live my own life, make my own decisions. you can’t keep controlling everything!”

your mother’s face flushes with anger. in a sudden, sharp movement, she raises her hand and slaps you across the face. the force of the impact sends a stinging pain through your cheek, and you stagger back, stunned.

“you’re nothing but a disappointment!” she screams, her voice cracking with emotion. “you think you’re so grown up, but you’re still a child who doesn’t know what’s best for her!”

you touch your stinging cheek, your heart pounding. the pain of the slap is nothing compared to the ache of her harsh words. you struggle to hold back the tears, your vision blurring.

“i’m trying to be strong,” you say, your voice trembling as you collapse to your knees on the floor. “but you… you keep tearing me down. i just want to be heard and understood!”

you look up at her, your face wet with tears, raw with emotion. “i’ve endured everything you’ve put me through, and not once did I ask for your help. i just want my own life, i want to breathe in a place where i don’t have to feel anxious. i want to be with someone who gives me warmth, something i never once got from you, from either of my parents. so please,” you beg, your voice breaking, “i’m begging you to my knees, leave me alone. let me live.”

the room falls into a heavy silence, your mother’s anger momentarily frozen. her eyes widen as she takes in your crumpled form, the raw vulnerability laid bare. you clutch the floor, feeling the weight of your words and the burden of your past.

gathering all your courage, you stand up, your legs trembling slightly. you pick up your bag and run out of the apartment, your heart pounding with each step. you don’t know where your feet are taking you, but you need to escape the suffocating confines of that place.

you find yourself at a bus stop, the cold metal of the bench biting through your thin clothing. the city around you seems to blur, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. where will you go now? what will you do next? the questions weigh heavily on your mind.

just as you’re lost in thought, your phone buzzes. you pull it out, squinting at the screen. the notification is from an unknown number.

["hey, i just got home. i hope you’re resting well. btw, this is yeonjun!"] the message reads.

right, you gave him your number. the reminder of his kindness sends a pang of guilt through you. you’re about to call him, to tell him what just happened, but something inside you holds back.

"are you really going to tell him about it?" your mind questions harshly. "that’s such a selfish thing to do. keep your problems to yourself. pathetic."

doubts and fears creep into your thoughts. are you really made for love? for living? will there ever be a time when you could truly be happy? as these questions swirl, the moments you’ve shared with yeonjun flash through your memory.

but do you deserve those memories? do you deserve happiness? do you deserve yeonjun? do you deserve the fleeting moments of joy he has brought into your life?

a sigh escapes your lips as you shut your phone off. the weight of your thoughts feels crushing, and you can’t help but feel that you’re not worthy of the happiness you’ve experienced. tears well up, streaming down your swollen cheeks. you smile through the pain, a sad, wistful expression that speaks of resignation.

"it was nice while it lasted," you whisper to yourself, the words barely audible over the hum of the city around you. the bus stop, the cold, and the distant murmur of passing cars all seem to blend into the background as you sit there, feeling the weight of your choices.

the morning after, you drag yourself to work, the weight of your heart making each step feel heavier. you have no recollection of how you got home or how you slept; you only woke up to your usual alarm, moving on autopilot. this isn’t something new to you—you’ve gone to school before with bruises on your lips, so this isn’t a big deal.

you enter the elevator, only to have the doors start to close when someone runs to catch it—yeonjun. he flashes you a bright smile, but it fades instantly when he notices your swollen eyes and the dried blood on your lips.

his frown deepens as he steps closer, his concern palpable. “who did this to you?” he asks, his voice gentle but firm. you turn away from his gaze, trying to hide your face. you had slathered on concealer, but it was clear that it wasn't enough to cover the damage.

“i just overslept,” you try to deflect, but his persistence is unwavering. he gently holds your chin, lifting it so he can see you better. “let me see it,” he demands softly, yet with an undeniable authority.

his touch is light, but it sends a shiver through you. his pinky grazes the bruise on your lip, and you flinch. yeonjun’s eyes widen, his face etched with concern. “fuck, i’m sorry. tell me where it hurts...” he asks, his voice dropping to a comforting whisper.

in another world, you might have let yourself crumble into his arms, crying out all your pain and fear, seeking the warmth he offers. but you remember your mother’s harsh words and the belief that love doesn’t suit you. you know better than to let yourself be vulnerable, even with someone who genuinely cares.

“i’m fine, really,” you manage to say, forcing a weak smile. “it’s nothing.”

yeonjun opens his mouth to respond, but before he can get a word out, the elevator reaches your floor. you step out quickly, almost stumbling as you make your way to the office. yeonjun stands there, watching you with a mix of confusion and concern.

as the elevator doors close behind you, you can feel yeonjun’s gaze lingering, his concern following you down the hallway. you walk with your head down, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, the weight of your emotions almost too much to bear.

you hear the soft ding of the elevator doors opening behind you and glance back to see yeonjun stepping out, his face a mask of determination. he starts to walk toward you, but you quicken your pace, unwilling to face him any longer.

the office’s hum and the clatter of keyboards fade into the background as you try to shut out the thought of yeonjun’s worried expression. you sit at your desk, forcing yourself to focus on your work, but his concern lingers in your mind, a painful reminder of the warmth and understanding you’ve been trying to keep at arm’s length.

you’ve tried your best to avoid yeonjun every chance you get. you’ve mastered the art of slipping away from conversations and making yourself scarce during breaks, all while maintaining a façade of normalcy at work. it’s been two weeks since that day in the elevator, but despite your efforts, yeonjun’s persistence never wavers.

he seems to have an uncanny ability to find you, whether it’s at the coffee machine, in the break room, or even in passing as you hurry to your desk. his eyes always carry that same mix of concern and care, and he never lets an opportunity slip by without trying to reach out.

one afternoon, as you sit in the break room, nursing a cup of coffee, you hear the familiar sound of the door opening. yeonjun walks in, his gaze sweeping over the room until it settles on you. 

“mind if i join you?” he asks, his tone casual but his eyes betraying a deeper worry. 

you look up, trying to maintain your composure. “i’m just taking a quick break,” you say, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

“that’s exactly what i’m here for,” he replies with a small smile. he takes a seat across from you, his eyes not leaving your face.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he says, the lightness in his voice replaced by a more serious undertone. “i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

you take a sip of your coffee, searching for the right words. “it’s nothing,” you repeat, but the lie feels even more hollow now.

“please,” yeonjun says, leaning forward slightly, “let me help you. i know something’s wrong. you don’t have to go through this alone.”

his sincerity makes your resolve waver. you want to tell him everything, to collapse into his arms and let him take away your pain. but the walls you’ve built around yourself are so strong, it’s hard to let them crumble.

you sigh, looking down at your cup. “why do you care so much?”

“because,” yeonjun says softly, “i see something in you that’s worth fighting for. you don’t have to carry this burden by yourself.”

the words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re silent. the warmth of his compassion and the strength of his presence make it harder to keep pushing him away.

“you don’t have to worry about me,” you say, your voice trembling. “i managed to be alone before.”

“but you’re not alone anymore,” yeonjun counters gently, his gaze steady and unwavering. “i’m here now.”

his words crack the armor you’ve carefully built around yourself. tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you try to hold back the wave of emotions threatening to spill.

“i’m just a waste of your time,” you say, your voice breaking. “you won’t get anything from me.”

yeonjun's expression shifts, a mix of frustration and sadness crossing his face.before he could even speak, memories flashes in his mind. he recalls the first time he realized he had feelings for you. it was during the freshman year of college, on a day when the rain fell heavily, drumming against the pavement. he had sought refuge under a waiting shed, watching the raindrops splash on the ground, lost in his thoughts.

suddenly, he heard the rush of someone’s footsteps against the wet ground. looking up, his eyes met yours.

time seemed to slow down for yeonjun. “did i startle you?” you asked, your voice breaking through his reverie. it felt like a dream—your presence, your voice, everything.

he awkwardly shook his head, and as he did, you chuckled. it was a sound he hadn’t heard from you before, and it warmed his heart.

you both ended up sitting on the bench in the waiting shed. yeonjun stole glances at you as you smiled to yourself, wiping raindrops from your uniform. he reached into his pocket and pulled out his blue handkerchief, offering it to you. “here, you can use it,” he said.

you looked at him, and with a genuine smile, you said, “thank you.”

in that moment, yeonjun thought you were beautiful—not just because of your smile, but because you had managed to evoke such an intense feeling within him. it wasn’t long before he found himself drawn to you more than he cared to admit.

sophomore year brought new opportunities for yeonjun to observe you. he remembered a particularly rainy day when you both ended up taking shelter under the same awning, waiting for the rain to let up. you were both drenched, but he noticed how you didn’t seem to mind, your focus entirely on the book you were reading. he wanted to approach you, to strike up a conversation and maybe you would remember him from that one rainy day in freshman year, but he was too shy. instead, he settled for watching you from a distance, marveling at how engrossed you were in your own world, occasionally glancing at the raindrops cascading from the awning.

by junior year, yeonjun’s interest in you had only grown. he remembered the day he saw you in the library, surrounded by stacks of books and papers. you looked so determined, so driven, and he couldn’t help but admire you. he spent more time in the library after that, hoping for a chance encounter, but you were always so focused on your studies that you barely noticed him. he would find a spot where he could see you, pretending to be engrossed in his own work, but always keeping an eye on you.

senior year was a turning point. when yeonjun found out that you would be in the same team for the internship, he was beyond delighted. he saw it as his chance to finally get to know you better. during the internship, he tried everything to get your attention. he made sure to be at every meeting early, hoping to catch a moment with you before anyone else arrived. he even started being late on purpose once he noticed how punctual you always were, knowing it would irritate you just enough to make you notice him. he wanted you to see him, to recognize that he was there.

he remembered the little things he did to get closer to you. offering to help you with your projects, asking for your opinion on tasks, and trying to find common ground. he treasured every small interaction, every fleeting glance, and every shared smile. the more he learned about you, the more he wanted to be a part of your world.

and now, standing before you, he realized how much you had come to mean to him. “i don’t think you’re a waste of time,” he replied firmly. “not after spending the last four years of my life admiring you from afar.”

“i can’t give you what you need,” you whispered, pulling yeonjun back from his reverie.

he looked at you, his expression softening even further. “i don’t need anything from you,” he said gently. “i just want to be here for you. you don’t have to be perfect. you don’t have to have everything figured out.”

you shook your head, tears welling up once more. “but you deserve someone who can be everything you need. i’m not that person.”

yeonjun took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. “you don’t have to be everything,” he said, his voice unwavering. “you just need to be yourself. and that’s more than enough for me.”

his words, filled with sincerity, made your heart ache. you felt the walls you’d built around yourself starting to crumble, yet the fear of letting him in remained.

“please,” yeonjun continued, “let me be a part of your life. let me help you carry some of this burden. you don’t have to face everything alone.”

you looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his feelings and the unwavering support he offered. the battle within you raged on, but his presence was a beacon of hope in the storm of your doubts.

“i don’t know if i can,” you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice clear. “i’m afraid of dragging you into my mess.”

yeonjun’s thumb gently brushed away a tear from your cheek. “i already am, when i decided to offer you my handkerchief” he whispered, recalling how the blue handkerchief that had once been drenched with rain from your uniform during freshman year had become soaked with your tears during senior year.

he took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “when i first saw you that rainy day, i felt something shift inside me. i knew then that i wanted to be there for you, no matter what. and i still do. so, let me be part of your life. let me help you find some peace in all this chaos.”

the sincerity in his words and the tenderness of his touch made it harder to resist. you took a shaky breath, feeling the walls around your heart beginning to crumble. “i’m scared,” you admitted softly.

“i know,” yeonjun said, his gaze steady and reassuring. “but you don’t have to be alone in that fear. let me stand by you.”

the weight of his promise hung in the air, and you found yourself slowly nodding. yeonjun came closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. “just put your heart in my hands,” he whispered. “i know you have doubts and fears, but you’re safe with me. if the world doesn’t understand you, then i will. let yourself be happy for once.” 

his words were soft and soothing, creeping from your nerves to your heart. his lips found their way to your forehead, placing tender butterfly kisses that spoke of his unwavering support and affection.

maybe you could be happy. maybe yeonjun was the one to help you through your misery. after all, he was the only person who had ever given you warmth. perhaps love wasn’t just a fantasy after all; it required more than just hope—it required sharing your deepest scars with the person you love. and in your case, that person was yeonjun.

gyo's note: yeonjun have become my unspoken angst muse, i love him sm pls and i hope you will love this too! i was contemplating whether to write this in the first place because of the theme and backstory of reader, but i guess i still did it hehe, i found comfort writing this and i'm hoping you will as well,,, nonetheless, if you made it to this part, thank you so much! you will be loved. xoxo!

✮ 2024 gyozies, all rights reserved.

[invertedspearofseveneleven]

Morning Light - Soft!Sukuna x reader

Summary - You fall asleep with Yuji, but wake up with the cuddliest Sukana fucking ever???? (So fluffy it makes you sneeze)

A/N - This Sukana is NOTHINGGGG like canon Sukana lmao. This was also my first Sukana x reader fic hehe so it's kinda short

This was from a DM from @malvikareader

"That reader goes to sleep with Yuji but ends up cuddling sukuna (and he's a Lil softie just for her)"

Thanks for breaking up my writing slump, your idea encouraged me to make an ASK GAME so if you like this, please check that out as well <3

In the afternoon, when the blinds are opened all the way, the room still won’t feel well lit. That’s partially because of the way the dormitory faces down the hill. The afternoon sun will be at such an angle as not to reach well to your side of the building, and the window also already has trees in front of it. 

However, in the morning, the sun is blinding. Normally, you wouldn’t mind, but after a night out with Nobara, Megumi, and your sweet boyfriend, Yuji, the light pushing through the blinds is making your head pound. 

Moving an arm off your side, you climb from the bed quickly, trying to stay as asleep as possible. You close the blinds and slink backwards to get back EXACTLY to how you were lying. No warmth wasted. 

In the now darkened room, you sigh at the feeling of Yuji’s arm moving back over you. This was a perfect morning, quiet, warm, and spent with him. Nothing was better, well, nothing you could think of cuddled up against Yuji, safe and warm. 

The arm around your middle closed on your waist, and you felt yourself being pulled gently up. Eyes still closed, you felt a smile split across your face and you let yourself be rolled over, strong arms sliding under you and soft lips resting on your forehead. 

“G’morning darling.” 

A heavy, woody smell fills your nostrils, like a bonfire, as a baritone voice murmurs the greeting, so deep it rumbles in your chest like bass from last night. Your eyes shoot open, locking on a darkly tattooed pec in front of you. Yuji doesn’t have tattoos, much less ones that snake down his front. You suck in a breath.

Sukuna was in your bed. Worse, you were in his arms.

You had only seen Sukuna in combat, when Yuji would step aside to let him take over in dire situations. He was terrifying from far away, and you had yet to see his true form. You felt your heart speed up, and your breathing become shallow. You hadn’t even looked up at the speaker yet. Could you? This was the King of Curses for fuck's sake. Were you even capable, or allowed? It was Yuji right? Somewhere in there-

Your thoughts were interrupted by a hand beneath your chin. Hot skin burning against your racing pulse. The pressure of your head being tilted back softly and insistently was spellbinding. Yuji would never turn you so easily, make you move so persistently, you should have realized when you were turned around, moments ago.

But now, you were seeing him up close. It was Yuji’s face, obviously, but something else was holding it in control. The tattooed cheeks and chin, the messy morning hair, the soft eyes.

Wait. His eyes. 

“Y-Yuji?” you manage to squeak out. The eyes weren’t exactly his, but they were gazing at you like his.

“Hmm? Oh, no, sorry love. Not exactly.” Sukuna shifted to peck your cheek, rubbing his thumb against the spot before making eye contact again. 

“But you…you’re not…” The words die on your lips. It’s confusing, but you don’t feel afraid, however much you’ve stiffened and drawn your hands away from the toned chest in front of you. 

Sukuna tilts his head, brows furrowing. “Not what?”

“Not, I don’t know.” Your eyes flit back and forth between his, and he sees, not malice or fear, rather curiosity. “Not scaring me. Not like I thought you’d be.”

The wrinkle between his eyebrows smooths, and he smiles again. His hand starts to play with your soft hair.

“Yuji, foolish as he may be, has priorities outside of being a useful shell. I respect next to nothing, and that shouldn't change for my vessel.” He gives a low chuckle before he looks back into your eyes. “But there’s something about you. I see how you treat others, how you think with a beautiful mind, but also with a beautiful soul. Difficult for me to understand, but it’s visible to even me.”

Your arms relax and you feel Sukuna’s warm chest under your hands once more, earning a wide smile from him. He doesn’t let his eyes drop from yours, and he grows serious.

“This, well, this is the first time you’ve woken up with me at the controls. I’ve pulled you closer late at night, but never spoken with you, I realize. This must be strange.” He’s, gosh, he’s babbling. You watch his long fingers flip a strand of your hair absentmindedly, his chin held in his hand as his eyes dart around, finally breaking eye contact. He looks back.

“I’ll switch, if it means you’re more comfortable, if it makes you less…” two strong fingers press at the side of your neck, and you realize he’s noticed how fast your heart was beating. 

“...nervous.”

You stay still, and the only sound in the room is the shared breath between you. You realize he’s serious, that he must have seen you the way Yuji had for so long. Something about that had your attention. He had witnessed love so strong it had changed his otherwise calloused heart. You doubted anyone else would have woken up like you had, still cradled in his arms. Your decision has been made, even before he had finished that sentence. 

“No.”

Sukuna looks surprised. That was certainly not the answer he expected. But he feels a warmth fill him when he realizes you want him to stay. You move closer, resting your head against his chest, breathing in that wood burning smell, and you hear a soft laugh above you, feel another kiss at the top of your head, feel strong arms holding tight to you.

The birds chirp outside, and the sun rises higher, but in the darkened room, a King of Curses falls asleep with his weakness.

[andy-15-07]

Hiiiii hru??? I saw your post that requests were still open (if not, please ignore this) but I would love something where Javier Peña or Joel Miller save reader from something? (From (being kidnapped by Pablo, or an accident, whatever) something with a lot of angst ahahah

Thanks in advance 🫂🥹

Under Fire and Shadows

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word Count: 1246 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The hum of the ceiling fan barely cut through the oppressive heat of the Medellín afternoon. You leaned against the cool surface of the bar counter, a bead of sweat sliding down the back of your neck. It was supposed to be a simple job—slip in, pass along the intel, and slip out before anyone could ask too many questions. Yet, here you were, stuck in the lion’s den, your escape route compromised.

“You look like you’re ready to bolt,” the bartender said, his voice tinged with curiosity.

You forced a tight-lipped smile and took a sip of your drink. “Long day, that’s all.”

But your gut churned. You could feel the weight of their eyes on you. The cartel’s men, stationed strategically throughout the room, weren’t just watching the entrance anymore. They were watching you.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” His voice was calm, but the steel in his tone sent a chill down your spine. You didn’t have to look to know who it was. Javier Peña.

“What are you doing here?” you hissed, barely turning your head.

“Saving your ass, apparently.” He slid onto the stool next to you, his presence drawing the attention of the room like a magnet. Javier had a way of owning any space he walked into, and you hated him a little for it.

“I had it handled,” you snapped under your breath, though your clenched fists betrayed your nerves.

“Sure you did. That’s why half the room’s ready to pounce on you.” He signaled the bartender for a drink, his nonchalance making your frustration boil over.

“You’re going to get us both killed.”

“No, you were going to get yourself killed. I’m just here to make sure that doesn’t happen.” His voice dropped, his eyes locking onto yours. “Now, do you want my help or not?”

The sound of a chair scraping across the floor broke the tension. One of the cartel’s men was approaching, his hand resting too casually on the holster at his hip. Javier shifted, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.

“Time to go,” he muttered, grabbing your wrist and pulling you off the stool.

“Peña, I swear—”

“Shut up and move.”

The two of you weaved through the crowd, Javier’s grip firm and unyielding. You could hear the murmurs behind you, the rustle of movement as more men followed. Your pulse raced as you stepped out into the blinding sunlight, the noise of the street momentarily disorienting.

“This way,” Javier said, pulling you into a narrow alley.

“What’s the plan?” you asked, your voice laced with panic.

“Plan?” He gave you a lopsided grin. “The plan is to not die.”

“Great plan,” you muttered.

The sound of footsteps echoed behind you, and you barely had time to react before Javier was shoving you against the wall, his body shielding yours. His hand came up, gun drawn, and you could feel his breath against your cheek.

“Stay quiet,” he whispered, his voice low and commanding.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as the footsteps grew louder. Javier’s body was tense, every muscle coiled like a spring. You wanted to argue, to tell him you could handle yourself, but the truth was, you were terrified.

The men passed by, their voices fading as they continued down the alley. Javier didn’t move until the silence settled like a weight around you.

“You okay?” he asked, stepping back.

“Yeah,” you said, though your voice betrayed you.

He studied you for a moment, his dark eyes searching yours. “You shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you shot back. “Not everyone has the luxury of calling the shots, Peña.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he took your hand and started leading you down the alley.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” he said, his tone leaving no room for debate.

The “safe place” turned out to be a dingy motel on the outskirts of town. Javier checked you in under a fake name, his hand never straying far from his weapon. Once inside, he locked the door and pulled the curtains shut.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you said, looking around the shabby room.

“What were you expecting? The Ritz?” He dropped onto the bed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s temporary. Just until things cool down.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the door. “You didn’t have to follow me, you know.”

“Yeah, I did,” he said, his voice softening. “You think I’m just going to let you get yourself killed?”

“Why do you care?” The question came out sharper than you intended, and Javier flinched slightly.

“Because I do,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t need a reason.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the air between you thick with unspoken words. You wanted to yell at him, to tell him he had no right to interfere, but part of you was grateful. Grateful that he cared, even if you didn’t understand why.

“Get some rest,” he said finally, lying back on the bed. “We’re going to have a long day tomorrow.”

You didn’t argue. Instead, you sat down in the chair by the window, watching him as he closed his eyes. Despite the chaos of the day, there was something comforting about having him here. And as much as you hated to admit it, you felt safer with him by your side.

The next morning came too soon, the faint light of dawn filtering through the threadbare curtains. You had barely slept, every creak of the motel and distant sound on the street keeping you on edge. When you finally looked over, Javier was already awake, sitting up on the bed with his gun in hand, his eyes sharp.

“You’re up early,” you said, your voice hoarse.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied, not looking at you. “Too much to think about.”

You didn’t ask what was on his mind. Instead, you stood and stretched, the tension in your shoulders refusing to ease.

“We need to figure out our next move,” you said, crossing your arms. “I’m not sitting in this dump all day.”

Javier finally looked at you, his expression unreadable. “The cartel’s not going to stop looking for you. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you said, your voice firm. “But I’m not going to hide forever. There’s too much at stake.”

“You’re stubborn as hell,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Fine. But we do this my way.”

“Your way?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he said, standing and slipping his gun into its holster. “Because my way keeps us alive.”

You wanted to argue, but the determination in his eyes stopped you. Javier might be infuriating, but he knew what he was doing. And as much as you hated to admit it, you trusted him.

“Fine,” you said, grabbing your bag. “What’s the plan?”

“First, we get out of here,” he said, moving to the door. “Then, we make them think we’re going one way while we head another.”

“And after that?”

“We figure it out as we go,” he said with a smirk. “Now, let’s move.”

You followed him out into the morning light, the weight of the day ahead settling heavily on your shoulders. But for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel completely alone. And as much as you hated to admit it, that made all the difference.